By eleven-thirty the party was becoming rather wild, and Sally, her face flushed with anger, came and sat beside Jeanette.
'Isn't it awful! It's those people Cetin's brought; I've never set eyes on them before tonight.' They were mostly English; two of the men who had had more than enough to drink were singing loudly, holding their glasses aloft. A couple were sitting on the couch, locked in each other's" arms, oblivious of everyone around them, and in the tiny space in the middle of the floor two other couples were vainly trying to keep time to the music blaring forth from the record player in the comer. 'It's bedlam,' Sally went on, 'but it won't happen again. I hate a party to get this way. Cetin has no right to bring people like that.'
Gwen came up, and she, too, was angry at the way these strangers were behaving. Jeanette, most unhappy herself, felt intensely sorry for her friends, agreeing that Cetin should have known better than to bring people of this type to the flat
'Can't .we stop them singing? It sounds so vulgar.' Gwen twisted her head, looking for Cetin. 'I'm going to tell him to take them off.'
But Cetin was at the 'bar' and Gwen could not attract his attention. She rose to go to him. It was now a quarter to twelve and Jeanette also got up, saying she would change her clothes.
'Mark's coming for me at twelve,' she reminded them. 'Is it all right for me to use the bedroom ?'
'Of course; help yourself...' Sally tailed off, her eyes
taking on an almost horrified expression and Jeanette turned swiftly to discover the cause of this. Her own eyes dilated and she felt herself actually trembling. For, standing in the doorway, his gaze travelling slowly round the room, searching for her, was Craig. Gwen and Sally were clearly put out; they both flushed hotly and Sally rose and turned off the record player. The couples stopped dancing and silence descended as every eye was turned on Craig.
'I did ring, but no one heard.' His eyes flicked Jeanette; she squirmed under their icy contempt. 'Mark had a headache, so I offered to come instead.' His voice was a whiplash, and his eyes travelled slowly from her head to her feet. She felt naked and almost sick with mortification as the colour fused her cheeks and spread right up to her temples. 'I expect you have a coat?'
'I - yes—' Slowly she came out of her stupor. 'I'll go and change-if-if you don't mind waiting?'
'Do sit down, Mr. Fleming,' she heard Gwen say as, turning, she almost ran into the bedroom.
He was in the tiny hall when she came out; she merely called good night and followed him downstairs and out to the car.
The silence was awful and for a while Jeanette continued to writhe under the censure and disdain it implied. But then her anger rose. Why should she be affected in this way by his opinion of her? He meant nothing to her and his approval or disapproval was of no account He had no right at all to take it upon himself to adopt this censorious attitude. He had elected to come for her and the circumstances in which he had found her were none of his business.
She leant back, determined to quell this feeling of shame, but it was no use. She was too intensely aware of his contempt; the strength of it seemed to fill the car. Im
patient and angry he had often been, but never had he treated her to so scornful a silence as this. Her eyelids pricked as she recalled that wonderful sense of companionship which had come to them as they stood in the Palace of Topkapi, and which had gained in strength during the idyllic month on Buyuk Ada. Her wretchedness increased as she realized that his disdain must naturally extend to Sally and Gwen. That he could hold them in contempt troubled her and on impulse she made an effort to dispel the impression he must now have of them.
'Craig, I don't know what you're thinking of - of Sally and Gwen, but please don't imagine their parties are always like that.' He drove on in silence and she added, painfully, 'They do sometimes become rowdy, I admit, but what you saw tonight was not typical.' Still no response. Craig continued to look straight ahead, his strong brown fingers merely resting on the wheel. 'It - it m-must have seemed - awful. ...' She tailed off, mortified that she should be stammering.
They travelled quickly along the almost deserted Necati Bey Caddesi, leaving behind the lights of the old city and the wide outer harbour of the Golden Horn, still alive with fishing boats, their lanterns bobbing about, sprinkling the water with light. They passed the Dolmabache and Ceragan Palaces, traversed the Ceragan Caddesi and still the almost frightening silence continued. They would soon be home; she sensed his intention of dropping her off at the door and driving away without even a word. She couldn't let him leave like this, despising her friends.
'Please, Craig, don't get the wrong impression. Some people came whom Sally and Gwen didn't know of. If it hadn't been for them there would have been no -- vulgarity.'
She heard a smothered exclamation of surprise, and Craig took his foot off the accelerator for a second.
'You don't consider your own get-up, then, to have been vulgar?'
Jeanette began to say why she had come to wear the costume, and then stopped, angry that she should be almost eagerly pouring forth explanations when she ought to be telling him in no uncertain terms to mind his own business. She ended up by adding, defiantly,
'My costume suited the occasion!'
'You're quite right, it did,' he agreed, and she bit her lip in vexation at providing him an opening like that. 'Does Mark know what goes on there?'
'What do you mean by that?' She sat up straight, flushing with anger.
'Don't be naive - And this indignation is out of place after what I've seen tonight.' The merest pause, and then, 'I noticed your young Turkish friend was there. Did you dance with him in that get-up ?'
'Please don't keep calling it a get-up,' she flashed. 'No, I didn't dance with Cetin,' she added, and sensed the sceptical lift of his brows in the darkness. His foot came down on the accelerator again and the buildings and the park and the shadowy outlines of the tall cypress trees flashed past as the car purred forward with smoothly-increasing speed. Craig spoke softly, ignoring her pro-test.
'Rustem obviously has some excuse for his amorous approaches. I'm amazed that you took exception on one particular occasion. I knew, in spite of your protests to the contrary, that there must have been some preliminaries to the little exhibition I interrupted.' His attention was on his driving as they caught up with, and passed, a slower car. 'Perhaps I should apologize for that? I imagined I was doing you a service - but I now strongly suspect I was mistaken.'
A gasp of fury caught at her throat, preventing speech. If he hadn't been at the wheel of the car she was sure she'd have lost control and slapped his face. She bitterly regretted opening the conversation, for he was clearly unprepared to listen to her attempts to rectify the impression he'd inevitably gained of Sally and Gwen. She sought for some biting and equally hurtful retort to his hateful implications, but the anger in her throat still held her speechless, and even when, eventually, she managed to articulate her words all she could find to say was a trite and rather half-hearted,
'How dare you speak to me like this!'
'Don't be ridiculous.' He spoke quietly, too quietly, she thought, trying to shake off an odd sense of danger that was slowly creeping over her. It amazed her to discover that, in a vague sort of way, she was wishing he would lose his temper. 'I find you, indecently dressed, in company that can only be described as undesirable, and you adopt this attitude of indignation, regarding my plain speaking as an affront.'
'Not an affront, an insult!'
To her surprise he flung back his head and laughed, a hateful, derisive laugh that not only, served to increase her misgivings, but also made him a stranger to her. Craig, possessing as he did that air of cool detachment which seemed to lift him above a display of emotion -Craig, to laugh like that. Cetin it would have suited, but it seemed altogether alien to Craig's character.
A prolonged silence followed and was broken only when they had turned into the drive and the car was brought to a standstill.
'It looks as if Mar
k's in bed.' Jeanette spoke stiffly, not wishing to speak at all but impelled to break the silence, for, in some unfathomable way, it troubled her. 'Did he say he intended doing so?'
'I advised him to. I suspect it's the odos again.' Reaching across, he opened the door, then he slid from the car and waited until she came round to join him. The house was in darkness except for a shade of light visible through the curtains in the sitting-room.'
Thank you for bringing me home.' She looked up at Craig, her lips trembling. It was so ridiculous to be hurt, to be sunk in misery because of his contempt. His opinion could not affect her in the least; quite soon she would be back in England and it was most unlikely that she would ever set eyes on him again. 'I'll be all right now. I expect Mark will have left the door, but in any case, I have a key.'
'I'll come in with you.' he said quietly, and her eyes flew to his, searching in the darkness for some sign that would explain the reason for her increasing uneasiness.
He followed her into the sitting-room. How quiet he was. Where was the impatience, the anger he always meted out whenever she did anything of which he didn't approve? One light only had been left on, the small table lamp in the corner. The fire had practically died, but the air still hung with that heady, seductive scent of I smouldering juniper logs.
'I wonder if Metat is still up?' The murmured words I came automatically, as if in response to some-inner fear. I Why this feeling of insecurity? Whatever mood Craig had been in, she had always felt safe with him. She took off her coat, hoping the prosaic action would restore her common sense. It was so ridiculous to be this way, with her heartbeats increasing all the time, and a little ball of fear gathering in her throat She placed her coat oyer the back of a chair and looked at Craig. He stood by the cabinet, holding one of the little votive offerings in his hand, but his eyes were on Jeanette, dark and penetrating.
'Metat and Mrs. Baydur retired before I came out to fetch you,' he told her, and returning the crude clay figure to its place, he came slowly towards her. She tilted her head, attracted yet repelled by his cold, unemotional features. They might have been etched in stone.
'Mrs. Baydur, too?' She was seeking for words. Why didn't he go?
'Mrs. Baydur, too,' he echoed, a hint of mocking amusement entering his voice. 'Were you wanting her for something?'
'No.' She shook her head vigorously, realizing with a sense of shock that she was deriving great comfort from the knowledge of Mark's being in the bedroom above. 'It's time I went up. It's quite late... She waited for him to take the hint, but he still stood there, looking down at her. Thank you again for bringing me home.'
'Telling me to go?' The lift of his eyebrows conveyed rebuke, though his voice retained its hint of amusement. 'That's not very hospitable of you, Jeanette.'
She darted him a glance of surprise, she had thought his every mood was known to her, but Craig in this vein was a total stranger. Unconsciously she extended her hands in a little gesture of bewilderment.
'I don't understand you at all tonight—'
'No? Well, perhaps you'll understand this better.' His hands shot out and gripped her wrists and the next instant she was struggling in his arms.
'Craig, how can you!' She was stunned by his action. Her thoughts flew to Diane and she added in a trembling suffocated voice, 'You must be drunk!'
'Drunk, am I ?' Strangely he took no exception to that One arm slackened its brutal hold; his hand came up to caress her cheek, before he slid his fingers through her hair, drawing it away from her face and holding it lingeringly for a moment. Then Jeanette uttered a sharp cry of pain and protest as her head was unceremoniously jerked back. Her heart thumped madly against him. Surely he must feel it, she thought, despairing at the futility of her struggles. She tried to move her head in order to escape his compelling gaze, but the effort merely produced another cry of pain, and she was forced to meet his eyes. No coldness now in their depths, or in the dark face so close above her own.
'Drunk, am I?' he said again. 'Must I be drunk before I become flesh and blood ?'
She gasped at that and her thoughts darted to Cetin and the night of Craig's timely arrival on the scene.
'Let me go! I'll call my brother - don't care if you are his friend!' ',
'Call away,' he said, amused, and, when her eyes flickered uncomprehendingly, 'Mark, I hope, is sleeping soundly under the influence of my famous cure.'
Of course. She should have guessed. If Mark were suffering from the effects of the odos it would be quite natural for Craig to dose him with the draught he had once given her. Her consternation grew as she recalled how soundly she had slept. Mark would be dead to everything until lunch time tomorrow. No use calling for the servants, either, for they slept in the annexe at the far end of the house. Craig read her thoughts and his amusement grew.
'No escape for you, is there, my dear? Had I deliberately planned the situation it couldn't have succeeded better—'
'I believe you did plan it!' The words were uttered before she had given herself time to think. 'I have no idea why you're suddenly treating me like this, but... .' With a sudden flash of insight she knew the cause of those vague and increasing fears she had begun to experience on the way home in the car. That calm control was alien to Craig's nature; it was that unaccustomed restraint that had troubled her, for she knew she was coming off far too lightly. Subconsciously she had been awaiting the explosion, steeling her nerves for the cutting reprimands that must inevitably be delivered. But this reaction staggered her, being equally as uncharacteristic as his previous calm acceptance - or what appeared to be his calm acceptance - of what he had seen at the flat.
'Planned?'
'I'm sorry. You couldn't have known you'd be coming to fetch me home.' She tried to free her hands, to press them to her aching head, but they were effectively imprisoned against the hardness of his chest.
'Nor had any idea of the state of undress in which I would find you,' he commented, and without giving her the chance of thinking up an answer to that he went on, 'As for my treatment of you - I think, if you're honest, you will agree that you've been asking for it for some time, keeping me at arm's length with your own particular brand of defence.' He released her hair, sliding his arm down to encircle her waist. 'But it wasn't like that with Cetin, was it? You never put on your armour with him, did you?'
'I don't know what you mean, keeping you at arm's length.' The most staggering idea flashed through her bewildered brain as she recalled several occasions when Craig had been so close, so in harmony with her that it seemed impossible to think of him merely as a friend. Had he had other ideas? He had been on his own for a long time, leading a life made unnatural by the fact of his having to wait for another man's wife. But he was a man for all that, with all the normal needs and desires of a healthy vigorous male. Jeanette' recalled too his indifference during her first month in Turkey... and then his sudden interest - and it had been sudden, taking her completely by surprise. Then there had been the time when he had angrily told her she ought to take what life had to offer. On that occasion they had been talking about the Sultan's sons.... Yes, Jeanette understood now. Craig's interest had always puzzled her, chiefly because she knew that Diane was his one and only love.
But he wasn't averse to finding consolation until the time when she could come to him.
Sickened by the sudden revelation, Jeanette wondered how many women, during the past fifteen years, had succumbed to his persuasive powers - and to his charms. She suspected there had been many. Hadn't Craig's mother said that she, Jeanette, 'would not be the first to lose her heart'?
No wonder he had so often shown anger and impatience. Jeanette understood the reason for those outbursts now. And on a couple of occasions his frustration had reached the point where he had actually threatened her with violence. He knew, from Mark, that she'd come out to Turkey to forget a sorrow, and he probably thought that she was what men termed 'easy game'. How galling for him to meet with a rebuff each time he made an
advance! Jeanette could imagine just how much his pride had suffered during these past few months.
His arms suddenly tightened and she was caught in a merciless grip that jerked her back to the present and to the awareness of her perilous position. Was she to pay for keeping him at arm's length, as he called it? Did he mean mischief? He certainly looked as though he did for his face in the half light was dark and cruel, and so close that she could almost feel his lips touching hers. Through the mist of her panic she recalled Craig's unnatural control when in the car, and her own vague and inexplicable wish that he would lose his temper. The lash of his tongue she would undoubtedly have felt, but there would have been no physical attack. There were smouldering embers in his eyes now and terror seized her, for this was a new Craig, a man with all his primitive instincts tensed for release.
'I - I never encouraged Qetin—' She could hardly speak for the fear gripping her throat. 'You might think otherwise, but—' The cracked and whispered words were lost in his savage, brutal kisses as his mouth closed remorselessly on hers. Her head, already aching from that cruel grip on her hair, began to throb as if in sympathy with the quivering nerves of her body.
Craig was trying to enforce from her some response and she deliberately stiffened, returning nothing either with her body or her lips. He would derive scant satisfaction from kissing and embracing a lifeless log. But he was aware of her resistance; it infuriated him and she suffered for it. Her whole frame felt crushed and bruised when at last he relaxed his hold and held her away from him.
'No reciprocation?' he said harshly, his fingers eating into her waist. 'I'll wager that's not how you react to your young Turkish friend!'
'I think you must be mad!' Jeanette put up a trembling hand to her mouth, as if to feel the bruises there. Her struggles began again, born of fear, but his fingers tightened even more viciously and she ceased abruptly, stemming the cry of pain that rose to her lips. 'Cetin has never kissed me like that!'
Anne Hampson Page 16
