'It was when we started exchanging names and we got to the fact that Laurette's father was called Angus Kearn that the coin dropped. After that there were just too many coincidences for there to be any doubt that our two fathers had been cousins.' He listed the coincidences one by one on his fingers while Nuri watched and listened, his dark face betraying nothing of his reactions. 'Well—after all that there could be no doubt that we were—are second cousins, wouldn't you agree?'
'It has to be true, doesn't it, Nuri?' She was holding on to his arm and so far he had done nothing to discourage the unaccustomed familiarity. Indeed her hand was pressed close to his side in a way that seemed to suggest he was actually liking the situation. 'You can see that it must be right, can't you?'
'It would seem to be so.'
Nuri made the admission with such obvious reluctance that she could not quite understand him. He should surely have welcomed any possibility of her finding some of her own people, for it would mean that there was more than a chance of her taking up with them, perhaps even of her going to join them, which would solve the problem of what was to be done with her when Halet married.
Instead, the feeling that he was not at all pleased with the idea persisted, and when he looked down at her suddenly she felt a faint flutter of reaction in her heart as she waited for his next move. Was he going to suggest that she should get to know her own family as a prelude to her leaving his home? She tried to interpret what was in his eyes, but dark lashes formed an effective screen, and she could only wait.
'You are quite sure of it, are you not, Laurette?'
She glanced at Ian Kearn's pleasant, friendly face and wondered at her own hesitancy, then returned her gaze once more to Nuri. She did not want to deny that Ian Kearn was her cousin, but she wanted even less for Nuri to see it as an excuse to see the back of her; that troubled her more than she would have believed pos-sible.
'Nuri, I believe it, I think Ian is my cousin, but— I'm wondering if—'
Strong fingers closed over hers in a gesture so un-expected that she caught her breath and glanced up again at that dark, unfathomable face. It was the second time in a few days that he had held her hand, and she tried not to remember that the last time had been when he was advising her to find herself another home. 'Surely you are pleased, bebek}'
This was a side of Nuri she did not remember having seen before, and she found it totally disarming. He might almost have been trying to impress Ian Kearn with their closeness, and she did not understand him at all. Strength and a kind of autocratic assurance were what she had come to expect of him, but not gentleness —not that deep softness in his voice. That was something she was neither prepared for nor accustomed to.
'Oh, but of course I am, Nuri, it's very exciting.'
The muscular arm still pressed her hand to his side and she tried hard to ignore its pressure—he was doing no more than lend his moral support. 'Then you will have much to talk about, hmm?'
'I—I imagine so, yes.'
Taking her hand, he removed it from his arm and held it for a moment before he let it go. 'Then I will leave you together to talk. I shall know where to find you when it is time to leave for home.'
His glance encompassed everything about Ian Kearn, as if he meant to keep the picture of him in mind—his frankly curious face and his shorter, stockier figure in its smart dinner jacket, and the red hair that was the same copper colour as Laurette's but more wiry and lacking the same silky softness. If Ian Kearn had mischief in mind then that searching scrutiny would certainly have discouraged him.
'Mr Kearn.'
He gave a brief polite bow and left them, Laurette following his long-legged stride across the garden with that vague look of disbelief still in her eyes. It was Ian Kearn's voice that recalled her. 'Nice of him,' he said, and if it was sarcasm, she did not recognise it.
She pulled herself together hastily, putting Nuri to the back of her mind for the moment. 'I can't wait to tell Latife that she's unwittingly found me a cousin I didn't know I had.'
'You exchange confidences like true sisters, then?'
'Oh yes, of course.'
Ian Kearn took a cigarette from his case and lit it, then seemed to recall himself suddenly and reached for the case again. 'I'm sorry; do you smoke?'
'No, I don't, thank you. Baba Refik doesn't like it, so —we don't.'
'Just you girls?' He put the case back in his pocket and smiled at her quizzically. 'He's something of a traditionalist, like his son, isn't he?'
She did not like to have to defend her foster-father. It was true Refik Kayaman was a traditionalist, but she did not see it as a fault and she resented criticism of him. 'He's a wonderful man, a really wonderful and kind man. He smokes and so does Nuri, but if they prefer us girls not to then it's no great hardship.'
He was leaning against one of the trees and looking at her through the smoke from his cigarette, apparently intrigued by the idea of her being so compliant. 'It seems as if I've got a whole lot of things to learn about my new cousin, haven't I?' he suggested, and drew on the cigarette again deeply, narrowing his eyes against the rising smoke expelled from pursed lips. 'You're al-most more Turkish than you are Scottish, it seems.'
It was something she was beginning to recognise with increasing frequency lately, and she admitted it without hesitation and with only a hint of defensiveness. 'I suppose I am in some ways, though you wouldn't get Nuri to agree with you! He still thinks of me as a heathenish redhead and thinks I need beating into shape!'
'Does he?' He studied the end of his cigarette for a second. 'That isn't the impression I got just now.'
'Oh, that was—' Laurette stopped hastily before she betrayed too much. For all he was her cousin, Ian Kearn was still a stranger and she could not bring herself to tell him that Nuri had never before behaved towards her as he had a few minutes ago. Instead she laughed and went off on another track. ‘I suppose I am a bit too much for a conventional Turkish family sometimes, and Nuri usually lets me know it!'
Once more he studied the tip of his cigarette while he spoke, so that she wondered just what was going on in his mind behind that convenient smoke screen. 'Laurette, I know I've only just met you, and it's probably none of my business, but if that man—What I mean is if there's any pressure being brought on you to—to marry him or something, then you'd better come back with me to my hotel until we can see about sending you home to England.'
Too stunned to fully grasp what he had said for a moment, Laurette simply stared at him, her lips parted. 'Oh, you couldn't be more wrong!' She shook her head hastily to bring herself back to clear facts, but found it incredibly difficult with such an idea in mind. 'Nuri would no more dream of marrying me than he would a—a—Oh, the very idea is ludicrous!'
'Is it?'
He asked it seriously, otherwise she might have laughed. Instead she blinked, still more uneasy. 'But of course it is! Nuri is a hard-headed businessman and if he marries anyone it will be some wealthy man's daughter—and either Turkish or Greek. His mother was Greek, you know, he's only half Turkish.' She looked at him with wide searching eyes for a second or two. 'I'm not being held against my will or anything half as dramatic as that; you really don't have to worry about that, though it's very nice of you to be so concerned.'
He seemed convinced and actually grinned somewhat sheepishly, as if his earlier dramatic suggestions embarrassed him. 'Well, you're my cousin, after all. I should be concerned about you, even if I have only known you a few minutes.'
'There's no need, I assure you. I wouldn't dream of leaving home—not yet anyway. Not until Halet gets married.'
'That's another of the Kayaman daughters, isn't it? I met her with her fiance earlier.' Laurette nodded, and he looked at her curiously. 'And what happens when Halet gets married?'
She shrugged, walking off a few paces until she leaned against the same lofty cypress once more and gazed up at the moon. She didn't want to admit how insecure it made her feel, to know that her familiar a
nd comforting world was going to have to change completely in less than two months' time.
'It's—difficult. You see, there'll only be Baba Refik and Nuri left when Halet goes, and—well, it just isn't the thing for me to stay on there with the two of them.'
'Ah, I see.'
'I shall have to find somewhere of my own.'
Her voice alone was enough to tell him how she felt about it, and he came and stood beside her, one hand on the tree she rested against, his eyes watching her closely. 'You really don't want to leave, do you?' he asked, and she wondered why he sounded so surprised.
She shook her head, not risking words yet, then she turned her head and caught a swift sight of him in the instant before he became distinct, shaking her head to clear it of the image she thought she had seen for a moment. The angle of his head and the bright red hair had given her a glimpse of someone she had once known better than anyone in the world, and it startled her for a second.
Then she laughed, a short and slightly unsteady sound. 'Just for a moment you looked exactly like Daddy, as I remember him. It's the red hair, of course, and the shape of the face and head.' She took a second to ponder on something that had only now become clear. 'It's awful,' she confessed, 'but I sometimes forget what he looked like.'
Ian Kearn was shaking his head, his mouth crooked' into a smile as he rested his weight on the hand beside her on the tree. His eyes were darker now that his back was to the light, and he watched her steadily while he spoke. 'I hope you're not going to look upon me as a father substitute, Laurette,' he said quietly. 'That wasn't what I had in mind at all.'
It shouldn't have surprised her, of course, he had made his intention clear from the start, but somehow she could not quite understand her own reaction. She liked this new-found cousin very much, and in other circumstances she would not have minded in the least that he made his meaning unmistakable, but here, tonight, with Nuri only a call away, she felt curiously inhibited.
Her hasty glance over one shoulder told its own story, apparently, for Ian too looked in the same direction and his mouth showed a suggestion of a smile as he shook his head. 'It seems to me,' he remarked wryly, 'that Nuri Bey has already beaten you into shape, cousin!'
'Nothing of the sort!' she denied it swiftly, perhaps too swiftly, for Ian was smiling again. 'Ian, if you—'
'I want to kiss you, and since you're my cousin I don't see how anyone can object unless it's your Turkish —brother. Do you?'
She shook her head, wordlessly. Without a doubt Nuri would object, though only because he thought she would not be a willing partner, and she prayed fervently that he would not come out again just yet. Ian pivoted on the arm that supported him and put his other hand beside her head while he looked down at her for a second.
'You really are a beauty,' he said, and she saw him smile as he leaned closer. 'Hello, little cousin!'
His mouth was much more gentle than she expected somehow, and he let her go almost at once, though he kept his hands at either side of her and stood looking at her for a while longer before he bent his head over her again, this time drawing her into his arms and holding her mouth for much longer, so that she began to struggle, more by instinct than because she found his kiss repellent.
His eyes had a bright glowing look in the softness of moonlight and he looked dark rather than redhaired. One hand traced the shape of her face, brushing back the copper-red hair from her cheek and lingering like a caress against her neck. 'I'll see you again, won't I, Laurette?'
She nodded without stopping to think, then glanced up at him, her eyes shadowed by the long brown lashes that fringed them. 'I'd like to.'
He laughed softly and it made a warm breeze against her face. 'I suppose I'd better not come to the house for you, had I?'
'Why not?' She was being far too defensive, she realised, but she couldn't bear the thought of him thinking of her family as anything but kind and hospitable people. 'You'd come for me if we were in England, wouldn't you?'
Ian pulled a wry face at her. 'In England I shouldn't have to get past Nuri Kayaman!'
Laurette shook her head impatiently, pushing his arms away and walking past him, turning to face him again when she stood some distance off. 'You don't have to worry about Nuri—why should you?'
He was shaking his head, a small, crooked smile on his mouth. 'You may not have to worry about Nuri Kayaman, my lovely cousin, but you probably have him thoroughly tamed by now—for me it's different!'
'That's not true at all!' She could not admit that she had any influence at all on Nuri, certainly she did not have him as firmly under her will as Ian suggested, but suddenly the idea intrigued her. 'It's nonsense,' she told him.
Against the yellow light from the salon she saw Nuri and she watched as he came across the gardens towards them on his long easy stride, a curious and unfamiliar flutter of sensation in her stomach at the sight of him. Then, when he was almost upon them, she went to meet him and caught at his arm as she had earlier, feeling the muscles tense briefly as they had that first time, at the unfamiliar touch of her.
He did nothing about it, however, but looked across at Ian, then immediately again at her, his black eyes scanning swiftly over her flushed face. 'Are you ready to go home, Laurette?'
She smiled up at him, using her eyes in a way she would never have had the nerve to do normally, if Ian had not made that remark about her ability to influence him. 'Whenever you are, Nuri!' She looked back at Ian in a way she knew well was provocative as she could make it. 'Goodnight, Ian—if you want to see me, you know where I live, don't you? Don't be afraid to call.' She looked up at Nuri again through the thickness of her lashes, but did not quite meet his eyes.
He turned his head briefly and called a short but polite goodnight to Ian, and as they went towards the house she still had her hand tucked under his arm, looking up at him again and this time meeting the bright dark glitter in his eyes with a hint of defiance.
'Are you angry?' she asked, and he said something half under his breath in Turkish, something she thought it was as well she did not understand.
'I will not be used to provoke your men friends, Laurette! Don't ever do it again!'
The violence of his anger startled her and she looked up again anxiously. 'Oh but, Nuri, I only—'
'You used me, and I will not have it! If you wish to arouse the jealousy of your men friends you will find some other way than involving me!'
She could feel the muscles under her curled fingers taut and hard and she would have slid them away, broken the contact with him, if he had allowed her to. Instead he crushed her hand against him so hard that she cried out and looked up in alarm.
'You hurt me!'
'I did not hurt you, I simply squeezed your fingers—I am sure you have experienced such a thing before!'
They were near the house and she hoped they weren't going to be arguing when she said goodbye to Latife. 'You didn't have to come and look for me,' she reminded him in a small quiet voice. 'If you hadn't I couldn't have—used you, or whatever it is you accuse me of.'
He said nothing, but ushered her into the house with a hand in the small of her back, and she went without protest, even though she felt angry with herself for doing so. Latife was waiting to say goodnight, holding out her hands to her as she came in, and smiling. She was only two years younger than Nuri but plump and pretty and not a bit like him.
'You look flushed, bebek, has Nuri been scolding you for spending so long in the gardens with your new cousin?'
Seeing him safely out of earshot and in conversation with his brother-in-law, Laurette pulled a face. 'I've been lectured by big brother on the wickedness of provoking men's jealousy.'
'That surprises you?' Laurette blinked at her uncertainly, and Latife laughed softly, squeezing her hands together between her own. 'Of course he lectured you, though I'm surprised he has been so frank about it. Perhaps—hmm?'
She was smiling and nodding and Laurette looked at her in complete mystification. '
Latife, I don't know what you're talking about; he complained that—'
'But of course he complained!' She kissed her cheek gently, her hand curved about Laurette's cheek. 'Foolish bebek, do you not realise that Nuri has always been jealous of whoever you talk to?' She turned to kiss her brother, leaving Laurette too stunned to answer her. 'Goodnight, little one!'
CHAPTER THREE
HALET sat curled up beside Laurette on the ottoman, her huge dark eyes shining as she watched her. 'He is calling to see you? But how exciting, Laurette! Do you think it is exciting that a young man is calling to see you?'
Knowing full well that Halet saw such an event as a prelude to serious courtship, Laurette answered cautiously. 'It will be nice to see Ian again. After all, it isn't every day that I discover relatives I didn't know I had, and we got along very well together.'
Halet nodded, as if she read between those lines easily enough. 'I am so eager to see this new cousin you have discovered—I cannot wait for him to come!'
'But you've already met him!' Laurette's smile teased her, but gently. Halet was probably much more excited about Ian's appearance than she was herself, and very definitely for a different reason. 'Or weren't you interested enough to notice him until you discovered he was my cousin?'
'Oh, but of course!' Realising that she was being teased, she shrugged, admitting it with a rueful smile. 'I noticed only a man with red hair,' she confessed. 'There were so many people there and I did not notice if he was handsome.'
'You were with Hussein,' Laurette smiled, 'so I'm surprised you noticed him at all.' Halet blushed and hastily looked down at her hands. 'Anyway, Ian isn't handsome, though he's attractive.'
The Velvet Glove Page 4
