She had vowed never to marry... It was three years since the death of Jeanette's fiance. But Jeanette couldn't get over losing him, and resolved that she would never love again.
Then she went to exotic Istanbul ad met archaeologist Craig Fleming. Jeanette couldn't resist his compelling magnetism, even though she knew that loving Craig would be as hopeless as loving a memory.
For Craig was as cold and unfeeling as the marble gods he excavated. And he was about to marry another woman!
CHAPTER ONE
Jeanette stood by the open window of her room gazing across the strait to the shadowed slopes of the Asian shore.
The familiar scene unfolded as the burning glow of the sunset spread like molten lava over the calm waters of the Bosphorus. Twinkling lights began to appear from |the fishermen's lanterns, and from the tiny villages along the waterfront.
Voices from below brought a momentary frown to her brow as tranquillity gave place to a strange feeling of unrest. Craig Fleming had come to dine with them; he rand her brother, Mark, were talking in the garden.
A month had passed since her first meeting with Craig. He had called on the day of her arrival. His stay was short, his greeting cool, and Jeanette had soon realized that the visit was made merely as an act of courtesy to his friend, and not owing to any desire to meet Jeanette herself. His grandmother had belonged to the old aristocracy that had been settled in Istanbul for many generations; from her he had inherited an air of almost majestic superiority which, to Jeanette, contrasted disconcertingly with her own lack of confidence.
Turning to the mirror, she picked up a comb, holding it for a moment as she contemplated her reflection.
Warned by Mark that she would receive invitations to dinners, dances and various Consulate-functions, she had spent a good deal of her savings on her wardrobe. The blue cocktail dress embossed with gold and silver thread was one of her most expensive purchases, but she knew it suited her, accentuated the slender lines of her body. It matched her eyes which, wide and pensive, stared back at her with a brooding expression. Slowly she drew the comb through her hair; it fell, straight and fair, on to her shoulders.
As usual, she was delaying the meeting with Craig, and with a resolute, almost impatient gesture, she replaced the comb and made her way downstairs and out to the garden.
Coloured lanterns in the trees provided a soft and subtle illumination.. Tony, who shared the house with Mark, had joined the others, and they were all sitting at a small wicker table where Mark was pouring drinks.
Jeanette stood for a moment in the shadows, scarcely aware of the interchange of conversation, or the chug chug of the motor boats in the distance, for her whole attention was on Craig. He was leaning back in his chair, and there was a suggestion of arrogance even in the movements of his fingers idly tapping the arm. His face was half turned towards her, a handsome face but proud ... too proud. The dark hair and fine arch of the brows, the firm set of the jaw ... all contributed to that impression of power and strength which had disturbed her from the moment they had met.
That his presence could make the past seem dim and unreal filled her with unreasoning resentment towards him. At home her thoughts had remained loyal to Ned -Ned, who loved swimming, and who had been caught unawares.
The old pain returned as she recalled the happy days of their brief engagement. At twenty-two she had been in her first year at the grammar school where she taught history; Ned had just been made a partner in the firm for which he worked.
How rosy their future - and how quickly it had all changed.
For a long while Jeanette could see nothing to live for. The future now appeared as an endless void. Three yean had passed, and though the wound had healed the scar remained. Although aware of her mother's anxiety, and that she hoped someone would eventually take Ned's place, Jeanette had shunned men's company, and the long, self-inflicted solitude had made her shy and awkward when in their presence.
Then Mark had gone over to Istanbul for a year as guest lecturer on nuclear physics at the university. Two months later he wrote suggesting she come out to him; there was a vacancy at the school in Beyoglu and he could obtain it for her. A complete change of surroundings was just what she needed, her mother had said, and Jeanette had agreed to go merely to please her and to relieve her anxiety.
On arrival she had been enchanted with her new home, for it was one of the ultra-modern villas in Ortakoy, the delightful suburb on the shores of the Bosphorus. Only the wealthy could afford to live in Ortakoy - the old aristocracy, business men, and men like Craig, who was manager for a world-famous oil company. Mark, and his friend Tony Powell, also a lecturer at the university, had been fortunate in renting the house from a family who were touring Europe for a year.
Jeanette felt she would never forget her first glimpse of the house. Standing in extensive grounds which ran right down to the shores of the Bosphorus, it had superb views over the strait. Judas trees and lilacs blossomed among the palms, and the air was filled with the scent of jasmine. Behind Ortakoy the hills, covered with jacarandas, had appeared to be draped in a soft blue mist.
With the house had gone Metat, gardener and odd-job man, who also waited on them at table. He was small and old, with the forlorn, hang-dog demeanour so characteristic of the poorer classes of Turks. The housekeeper, too, had also to be taken over, although she spoke only Turkish, much to the dismay of her new employers.
Realizing that Craig had turned his head, as if aware of her presence, Jeanette moved forward and sat down.
'Vodka?' asked Mark, but she shook her head. He and Tony glanced at her with their usual appreciation; to her surprise, Craig's eyes also flickered with interest. His voice, however, still held the familiar coolness as he bade her 'Good evening'.
Almost immediately Metat appeared to say that the dinner would be delayed for about half an hour. Jeanette rose again. Tony and Mark were discussing their work; Craig had returned to his perusal of The Yachtsman which lay open on his knee.
'I think I'll go for a walk,' she said. 'You don't mind?' The three were included in her glance and Mark and Tony shook their heads.
'You'll need a wrap,' Mark said.
'Oh, I'm quite warm.' The climate was still a novelty. She delighted in being able to go about without a coat.
'You will need one,' her brother insisted. 'The breeze coming over the Bos. can be quite cool on occasions.'
'But I'm sure I won't be cold—'
'Let Metat fetch it for you.' Craig's deep voice cut her short Was he really concerned for her welfare? - or merely irritated by her argument? Whatever the reason for his interference she was taken aback by it, and she stared at him wonderingly for a moment. Then, with a wry smile, she said it would be quicker to fetch the wrap herself than try and explain what she wanted to Metat. Craig then spoke to him in Turkish and within a few minutes the old man returned with the wrap, which he handed to Craig. After a slight hesitation he stood up and put it round Jeanette's shoulders. Again she stared. For a month he had scarcely noticed her, at times had almost ignored her presence. But tonight he seemed so different, so ... human, and she was reminded of what Mark had said soon after her arrival.
'His hobby is archaeology; with your own interest in it, and your knowledge of history, you should get on well together.'
They had certainly not got on well together up till now. Not that it mattered, Jeanette told herself, though she did wonder why there was such constraint between, them. With Mark's other friends she had managed to adopt the friendly, free-and-easy manner which had come so naturally in the days before her long period of seclusion. It was impossible to remain shy and awkward when Mark and Tony had so many friends coining to the house. She no lo
nger felt shy with Craig, but they seemed to have so little in common that conversation between them was always difficult and strained.
He surprised her even further by saying,
'I feel like a walk myself. I'll come along with you -if you don't mind.'
She frowned. She did mind, though she could scarcely say so. She loved walking alone; it gave her a sense of peace and contentment.
They proceeded in silence for some moments, then Jeanette stopped.
'I hope I shall never come to take this for granted.' Her eyes eagerly took in the enchanting scene of a myriad twinkling lights reflected in the calm waters of the strait. Countless small fishing boats bobbed about in leisurely fashion. Each had two men, one holding the lantern while the other dragged the net. A clear, crescent moon was reflected in the water, and the ripples shone like silver. Along the gently-curving waterfront the picturesque old yalis lent an air of mystery and stimulated the imagination. These wooden houses had an abundance of ornate carving laced in intricate patterns; the lower windows were covered with delicate tracery which had enabled the Turkish ladies to see out without being observed themselves. What were they like inside? wondered Jeanette. She could ask Craig, for he owned one on Buyuk Ada, one of the Princes' islands in the Sea of Marmara. But he might consider it tantamount to asking for an invitation, especially as Mark had stayed there on several occasions, so she remained silent, preferring to ask her brother about it later.
'Has the Bosphorus cast its spell over you, too?' Craig asked with a smile.
'Yes... do you feel like this?'
'I'm used to it, of course, but much of its charm persists.'
'Have you lived here a long time? I know you were educated in England, but — you were bom here?'
'I was born here, yes, but we left soon afterwards. My parents had too many ties in our own country and I couldn't settle here. But we often came over to see my grandmother.'
'And now you have returned for good?'
'Not for good. I'm here merely because the firm sent I me. I was in Greece until four years ago and eventually I shall settle there, probably in a couple of years or so.'
In two years' time he hoped to settle in Greece. . . . Did he hope that Diane would be free by then? - free to come over here and marry him? For some reason she could not define she had no wish to think of Diane, the woman so precious to him that be had spent his youth in waiting, and longing. . . .
At times Jeanette could not imagine his loving any woman; at others she could believe he'd have one woman in his life, and one only - and that was exactly what he had done.
Jeanette felt an inexplicable tightness in her throat as they walked on again. In spite of herself she could not keep her thoughts from straying to Diane, whom she had never seen, but whom she could visualize so clearly from her brother's description.
Craig and Mark had been at university together, but had lost touch for over ten years until meeting again by accident in Istanbul. Diane, also a student at the university, had, according to Mark, 'been blessed by the gods in both looks and disposition'. All the male students, including Mark, had had a crush on her, but she had eyes only for Craig. Both were just nineteen at the time.
Then tragedy had come to Diane. Her mother widowed when quite young, had remarried, and when she and her husband died within a few months of each other their four young children were in danger of becoming separated.
Roy Denton, son of a wealthy business man, had always admired Diane, and he offered to care for the children and bring them up as his own if she would marry him. Craig and Diane talked this over and agreed to part for the sake of the children. Soon after the marriage Diane learned that Roy had a rare and incurable bone disease, but would probably live for several years. On discovering this Craig vowed to wait for Diane, Mark had stated, though adding, 'or so it's believed'.
'You appear to be more settled at school.' Craig's voice broke into her musings, and she felt oddly grateful to him for the diversion. 'Mark mentioned you were having some difficulty.'
'Yes, but I'm enjoying it now that I've become used to the children.' The school catered for the children of business men and Consulate officials, and although Jeanette had only sixteen in her class, there were seven nationalities among them. 'The language problem rather frightened me at first, but most of the children speak some English, so I'm beginning to manage very well.'
I thought you would soon find a way of solving the problem,' and, before she could take that as praise, 'English teachers would obviously not be employed unless such difficulties could be overcome.' He paused. 'And the staff - are you quite happy with them?'
'Quite. I've made two friends - English girls. They have a flat near the shore at Tophane. They've been showing me round some of the night clubs and restaurants.'
'From what I can gather you've been having a rather hectic night life since you came over here.' Craig's tones were dry.
'Yes, indeed. Mark and Tony have taken me about a good deal, too.' She hesitated. 'I want to get round to the really important places, though. I haven't done much sightseeing yet.'
'Surely you've done all the usual round?' His brows lifted in surprise as she shook her head.
'I've visited several mosques, and St. Sophia, but I haven't had much time. With finding things so difficult at school I've spent every week-end preparing lessons. I'm fairly well organized now so I shall have more time. I did hope to visit the Palace on Saturday, but Mark and Tony are both attending some function at the university so neither is free to go with me.'
'What about your two friends? Can't they go with you?'
'Not this week-end; they've been invited out.'
Craig paused, as if in careful deliberation.
'In that case,' he said at last, 'I shall have to take you myself.'
An astounded silence followed. He couldn't possibly wish to take her on a sightseeing tour. He had obviously felt obliged to make the offer, and Jeanette rebelled at the idea of his escorting her for that reason.
'Thank you, but I'm sure you would find it boring. You must have visited all of the places many times.' The slight tartness in her voice instantly found response in his.
'Had I expected to be bored I shouldn't have made the suggestion! I'll pick you up on Saturday just after lunch - or do you wish to go before ?'
Again her anger rose as his tone implied that he expected no further opposition. Typical of him to assume she would readily fall in with his. plan. In the short time she had known him she had discovered that, when he made a decision, he expected everyone concerned to accept it - which they invariably did. Much to her annoyance Jeanette found herself doing the same.
'It's up to you; I really don't mind.' And then, 'Perhaps a whole day would be too much?'
'You would certainly find it tiring. In any case, even a whole day at Topkapi wouldn't suffice. You'll need to visit it many times in order to appreciate its numerous treasures.'
Now that the arrangements were actually made Jeanette forgot her annoyance and found herself looking forward eagerly to the visit. She certainly could have no better guide than Craig, who was so familiar with the ancient city and its world-famous buildings.
They had been strolling in the direction of Craig's own house, and she could just discern the graceful lines of his yacht straining gently at its moorings. At the same time she became aware of a large motor launch skimming smoothly towards them over the rising waves. The launch was heading south, and as Jeanette speculated on its destination she remembered that Craig had spent every week-end for the past month at his house on Buyuk Ada. In his spare time he was writing a book on the site at Santorini, where he had spent a year on excavations before coming to Istanbul, and for this he preferred the peaceful atmosphere of his island retreat where he would not be disturbed by visitors.
'What about your book? Aren't you going to your island?'
'My island?' He sounded amused, but added, more seriously, 'I can leave it for one week-end; the rest won't do m
e any harm.' He paused and she felt he was frowning. 'As a matter of fact, it's not coming along as well as I would wish.'
She eyed him in some surprise. He gave so strong an impression of efficiency, of the ability to overcome all obstacles, that the admission seemed totally out of character.
'You mean — you can't concentrate?'
'That's about it.'
Yes, he was much more human tonight, and this encouraged her to suggest that he might be overworking. She knew his job was exacting and entailed a good deal of travelling to all parts of the country. It was not only concerned with the import and refining of the oil, but also with the numerous by-products. He was interested, too, in investigating the extent of the country's own reserves with a view to cutting down the quantity of imported oil.
No, it isn't the job,' he replied after a long pause. 'It's . . . well, one has to have a completely calm and untroubled mind in order to concentrate.'
Could it be the thought of Diane that disturbed the calmness of his mind? Was it impatience? Had the waiting, now that it must surely be nearing its end, become more irksome?
For no apparent reason the night had suddenly lost its charm.
'I'd like to go back,' she said, in a flat tone. The brief friendliness was gone; silence descended like a wall between them and both were profoundly conscious of the old restraint.
Craig left soon after dinner, and as Tony went to the study to prepare a lecture, Mark and Jeanette were left alone. Mark poured himself a drink, then sat down with the newspaper. Picking up a book, Jeanette tried to read, but could not fix her attention to it. She felt impatient with the confusion of her mind; so many visions were superimposed one upon another. Ned, whom no one could ever replace; Craig, whom she should have been able to dismiss from her mind without undue effort. And there was Diane....
Why this desire to know more about her? Jeanette, puzzling over this, sighed impatiently.
Mark was engrossed in his reading, but she interrupted him, saying, with assumed carelessness,
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