by Alison Kent
CHAPTER FIVE
DAZED and exhausted, Lizzie woke with a start, disorientated by her nightmare, her surroundings, but most of all by her confused memories of the previous evening’s events. Staring blearily at an ornate clock on the marble mantelpiece, she felt as if a bucket of cold water had just been dashed in her face. She was more than an hour late for her nine o’clock meeting with Kemal!
After showering briskly, she dragged on her clothes and raced out of the room. She ran down endless corridors and across acres of marble floor, only slowing when she saw some servants looking at her curiously. Emerging through the archway that led from the sumptuous quarters where she was being housed into the main hall, she stopped dead. Kemal, dressed in full business uniform, was waiting for her outside the door to his study.
He dipped his head in greeting. ‘I trust you slept well?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ Lizzie lied. ‘I’m sorry I’m late—’
‘I’m also sorry you are late—because you’re too late,’ Kemal murmured, snatching a look at his wrist watch. ‘I have another meeting.’
‘Another meeting?’ Lizzie echoed. ‘But I thought I was seeing my brother this morning.’
‘Unfortunately that will not be possible.’
‘Not possible!’ Firming her mouth, Lizzie blazed a stare up at Kemal. ‘So your word means nothing?’
‘I do not recall giving you my word that you would see your brother. I merely said we would meet again at nine o’clock. Had you arrived on time—’
‘How can I believe anything you say? How do I know you will allow Hugo and the men to go now I am here in their place?’ Lizzie demanded angrily, watching with annoyance as Kemal checked his watch a second time.
‘You have my word,’ he said coolly. ‘Had you arrived at nine, as we arranged, I could have given you about fifteen minutes of my time—’
‘Fifteen minutes? You could have spared me as long as that?’
This made a change from the cool, prim professional who had turned up on his doorstep the day before, Kemal reflected. He should have known when she lurched out of the taxi-cab that there was a wildcat inside Lizzie Palmer, just waiting to be set free. ‘Why, Lizzie,’ he said, ‘I do believe you’re angry.’
‘Damn right I’m angry! You rant about honour—now I see how much honour really means to you—’
She broke off abruptly when, seizing her arm, Kemal brought their faces very close. ‘Don’t push me too far, Lizzie—unless you’re ready to take the consequences.’
‘Then explain yourself. If you can—which I doubt.’
Kemal lifted his hands away while Lizzie was still reeling from the close contact.
‘Very well,’ he agreed. ‘I will tell you this much. There has been a complication I could not have foreseen—’
‘Hugo’s all right?’ Lizzie said quickly.
‘Your brother is well. I’m afraid the weather is causing problems. All flights to and from Ankara have been cancelled.’
‘Ankara?’ Lizzie said anxiously. ‘Is that where he is?’
A muscle flexed in Kemal’s jaw. He didn’t have the heart to deny her the truth. ‘Yes, Hugo’s there—with the other men.’
‘But you said I could see him. Is it far?’
‘Conditions are forecast to improve tomorrow—’
‘Tomorrow?’ Lizzie exclaimed. ‘But that’s Thursday. Christmas Day is on Saturday!’
‘I had not forgotten,’ Kemal said more gently, hearing the rising note of panic in her voice.
‘Hugo will be so worried,’ Lizzie murmured distractedly. ‘He knew I was coming to Turkey to sort this out—’
‘Hugo is a grown man,’ Kemal intervened. ‘He understands the position.’
‘How can he?’ Lizzie said. ‘When he doesn’t even know where I am?’
‘He knows.’
‘You’ve been in contact with him?’ Lizzie’s mouth firmed into an angry line. She could see the truth in Kemal’s eyes. ‘Why didn’t you let me speak to him? No—’ She held out her hands as if to ward him off. ‘Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Just get him out of there. The sooner he leaves the country, the sooner I can follow him.’
‘We will share the same relief when that happens,’ Kemal assured her. ‘And now, if you will excuse me—’
‘That’s it?’
‘Should there be something more?’
‘There’s a little matter of my liberty, and when you think I’m likely to be free. Let me remind you, I am not on holiday. And I haven’t come all the way to Istanbul to be fobbed off with five minutes of your time!’
‘Ten,’ Kemal murmured, checking his watch. ‘And your time’s up.’
Lizzie’s lips parted with sheer disbelief. ‘But what am I supposed to do all day?’ she said at last.
‘I have no idea,’ Kemal said with a shrug.
Lizzie gasped as he took hold of her upper arms and firmly moved her to one side.
‘But please don’t get in the way of the servants,’ he said.
Flinging all the papers she had gathered for their meeting down on a chair in her bedroom, Lizzie tugged her jacket off and tossed it after them. She might have spent the night in his harem, but if Kemal Volkan thought she was a suitable candidate for assertiveness reversal therapy he was sadly mistaken! And if he thought she was going to sit around all day, doing nothing to secure her freedom, he was wrong about that too.
She still had one card up her sleeve, Lizzie remembered—Sami Gulsan, the local lawyer. And this was the perfect moment to call him. Going to her briefcase, Lizzie retrieved his card and her mobile phone.
Keying in the number, Lizzie was disappointed to be put through to the lawyer’s voicemail. But, with time running out if she was to get the men home before Christmas, anything was better than nothing, she reasoned. She explained the position in which she found herself, and the outrageous manner in which her brother and his colleagues were still being held in Turkey against their will, and then for good measure added her suspicions that Kemal could not be trusted to let the men go, even though she had offered to stay in their place.
When she cut the line, Lizzie felt that at least she had done something positive. But until she heard from the lawyer, or Kemal came back and she could talk to him, she was powerless to move things on.
Wondering how she was going to pass the day, Lizzie’s glance fastened on a collection of small brass ornaments displayed on a low table. As she picked one up, it was as if the cause for her late arrival at the meeting with Kemal became suddenly obvious. Running her fingertip over the pierced brass surface, Lizzie remembered all too clearly the nightmare that had kept her tossing and turning all night.
There had been many similar ornaments at home when she was little. Of course her parents’ drug-warped attempts to recreate the mystical East had been a sham, whereas everything here in Kemal’s palace was an expensive original, but the two worlds had become hopelessly entangled as she slept. The incense and the curios from her childhood had been a stage set for a tragedy, and they could never be compared to the beautiful works of art and fragrances with which Kemal Volkan filled his home. But the Eastern ambience, the ever-present scent of sandalwood and spice had trespassed on her dreams, transporting her to a different time. That was why she had suffered one of her worst nightmares for years—and why she had been late for the crucial meeting. She could never allow it to happen again.
Walking slowly around the perimeter of the room, Lizzie made a point of handling and examining everything she believed might have stirred her memories. On close inspection she realised that nothing bore the slightest resemblance to the cheap imitations that had littered the squat where she had been raised.
Satisfied that she had laid the ghosts to rest, her thoughts veered off again in the direction of all the other women who must have waited here for their sultan to return. Had their future been any more secure than her own? Had they been happy to wait in the harem? Or had they felt as she did—trapped
and uncertain—birds in a gilded cage? How had they prepared themselves for the moment when the gilded doors opened and they were summoned into the Sultan’s presence?
Wandering over to the window, where sunlight filtered in through magnificent stained glass panes, Lizzie opened it and peered out. The courtyard was deserted. She was quite alone. Or was she? She turned back to face the room. How many spyholes existed in these richly decorated walls? How many places where a discreet listener could press an ear? This was the harem—after all, a place of intrigue and voluptuous secrets.
Hugging herself, Lizzie stared properly at the scenes depicted on the wall hangings, and then up at the fabulously painted ceiling arching high above her head. The illustrations on the hangings showed scenes of a gentle and romantic nature, but the paintings on the ceiling were quite different. They were unashamedly erotic. Her pulse began to race as she guessed at their purpose, and the position from which they might best be viewed. And then her mouth firmed angrily at the thought that Kemal must have found it infinitely amusing to house her in the harem.
But a quiver of excitement took hold when she gazed at the silk-draped bed. It had been eighteen months since her last relationship—eighteen long months of celibacy. And she couldn’t help wondering how long it might take to view every one of the highly descriptive scenes on the ceiling properly. Dragging her gaze away, she surveyed the plump cushions arranged in shady mirrored alcoves furnished with low tables bearing dishes of fresh fruit. Everything in the harem was designed to delight and seduce the senses. But she would not succumb by so much as a single grape, Lizzie decided, turning away.
Kemal had mentioned a pool, and a spa. Perhaps it was time to make the most of her stay in this gilded cage…
Lizzie made a sound of impatience, remembering she had no casual clothes—they were all at the hotel—then a knock on the door made her start.
It was so timely she should have been pleased, but Lizzie felt a chill run through her as a manservant entered carrying her suitcase. Kemal had clearly given instructions that her belongings were to be removed from the Hotel Turkoman.
‘Who told you to bring my things here?’ she asked, but the man only bowed low and then left the room as quietly as he had arrived.
‘Oh, no—I didn’t order anything,’ she said, when a maid entered next, with a number of exclusive-looking carrier bags. But she might not have been there at all, Lizzie realised with exasperation, for all the heed the woman paid to her. The maid deposited the bags in a neat line beside the bed, and then walked away from her on silent feet across the cool marble floor.
Lizzie’s heart stalled when she saw what she was about to do next. ‘No!’ she cried out, and raced across the room. But the wicks on the scented candles were already burning strongly. And now the maid was moving on to light a large incense burner.
‘No. No! Please—don’t!’ Lizzie fought to keep her voice steady, but the sweet and pervasive scent was already curling around her nostrils, stealing away every bit of breathable air…
Kemal had always believed it was gut instinct that had brought him success. And it was gut instinct that had made him cancel his meeting and brought him back to the palace. Now he knew why, he realised as he strode across the room. One look at Lizzie was enough to tell him he had been absolutely right to return.
‘Leave us,’ he commanded the serving woman, his focus never wavering from Lizzie’s face. Quickly extinguishing the flame of the incense burner between his thumb and forefinger, he removed it to a window ledge far away from her, beneath an open window. Then, returning to Lizzie, he dragged her into his arms just before she hit the floor.
Lizzie could hardly understand what was happening. She was having trouble breathing. She was confused, bewildered, knew only that for some reason Kemal was holding her up, and that she should push him away. For a moment something new took over, and she felt safe…protected. But that was dangerous. It was a false impression, Lizzie realised, pulling back.
‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she said with a half-laugh, trying to make light of what had happened. But her voice sounded brittle even in her own ears and she could see he wasn’t convinced. ‘I have always been sensitive to perfume,’ she added. ‘I have a rather highly developed sense of smell.’ She gave another short, dismissive laugh.
‘And a highly developed aversion to incense?’ Kemal commented lightly.
It gave him no pleasure to see Lizzie hugging herself now, in an instinctive gesture of defence. And a report from one of his servants was still playing on his mind. Mehmet had heard her crying out in the night. Nightmares, he’d thought. That would explain why Lizzie had missed their meeting, and it also explained why he had felt compelled to turn the car around today. Could he possibly be developing a conscience? Kemal wondered dryly. Or had feelings more physical than cerebral brought him racing back to Lizzie’s side?
‘Would you feel happier in another suite?’ he suggested, looking around. ‘I have more modern accommodation than this available if you would prefer?’
‘This is absolutely fine,’ Lizzie assured him, still regretting the fact that she had shown her Achilles’ heel to him. ‘As prisons go, this is definitely at the better end of the market.’
‘Prison?’ Kemal murmured, cocking his head as he stared at her.
Meeting Lizzie’s gaze, he tried to read her thoughts, but a veil had come down over her extraordinary eyes and it was beyond him. At least she was calm again. He was careful not to show his amusement when she settled the most important part of her armoury back on her nose. Instead, he took the couple of steps necessary to reach her and take them off.
‘Why are you still hiding behind these?’ he said. ‘Why don’t I just lose them somewhere?’
Lizzie took them out of his hands again and gave him a look as she put them back on. ‘Maybe I like wearing them. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Or maybe you’re frightened of something, or someone, and like hiding behind them,’ Kemal suggested softly.
‘I am certainly not frightened of you,’ Lizzie assured him without breaking her stare. ‘You are bigger than me physically, and that is all.’
Kemal’s eyes flared with passion. Her defiance amused him, and it aroused him too. No one had ever defied him as she did; they were always too frightened of overstepping the mark, of losing his interest. But Lizzie Palmer was different. She was a woman of fierce contradictions—vulnerable, combative, contained—and passionate? Yes, passionate. He was sure of it. Even though she was staring at him now in that cool and very English way. But one day those fires burning beneath her frosty exterior might just erupt. And he would be there when they did.
Her skin was so fine and pale it was almost translucent, but there was a blush about her cheeks that betrayed a matching interest in him, whether she cared to admit it or not. Just a few minutes ago, when she had been at her lowest ebb, vulnerable, weak and exposed, he could never have touched her, but now…
Lizzie’s heart refused to stop racing as she stared up at Kemal. She struggled to ignore the excitement building inside her, and fought hard to dismiss the way her flesh sang where his arms had briefly held her. She could not banish the memory of his drugging warmth, his clean, masculine scent. But at the same time she knew that finding sanctuary and a kind of peace in his embrace would be a huge mistake—fool’s gold.
She made a little sound of surprise and refusal deep in her throat when he reached out to take hold of her.
‘Yes,’ Kemal insisted. And his voice was so soft, so caressing, that just for a moment Lizzie knew he was going to kiss her. ‘Are you all right now?’ he asked instead, dipping his head to stare straight into her eyes.
‘Fine,’ Lizzie said, trying not to show how disappointed she was.
‘You will find some leisure clothes in those carrier bags. Dress for lunch out. I am going to change, and then we will relax.’
She looked at him.
‘Don’t pretend surprise,’ he said practi
cally. ‘You surely don’t mean to live in that one black suit for the whole time you are here?’
‘I meant to go back to the hotel and change,’ she said, tensing again as she remembered the arrival of her luggage.
‘You wanted to talk,’ Kemal reminded Lizzie. ‘So I have cleared my diary for you.’
Lizzie’s hand flew to her face as in one deft move he removed her glasses.
‘And you won’t be needing these,’ he said, placing them in the breast pocket of his jacket. ‘There will be nothing between us now, Lizzie, but the truth.’
CHAPTER SIX
REMOVING the beautiful designer clothes from the stiff, expensive-looking carrier bags was heaven. Lizzie never indulged herself, and certainly never accepted gifts from someone like Kemal, who was practically a stranger. But these were different—these she would pay for.
Soon the circular fur rug where she was sitting was completely covered in tissue paper and clothes. Everything had been carefully packed, and the rainbow-hued packages neatly sealed with a label from each exclusive store. Her heart was thundering with excitement at each new discovery, and she flushed red as she held up a set of cobweb-fine underwear in delicate flesh tones. She had seen something very similar in England, but it had been so expensive she had just smiled and walked on. But she wasn’t about to resist temptation now, and she put them to one side with the other clothes she had chosen to wear that day.
Kemal hadn’t meant to stand and watch, but found it impossible to resist. As Lizzie had suspected, the harem had many secret places from where the occupants might be discreetly observed. He had slept badly the previous night, disturbed by the fact that she was sleeping so close by. He had also felt some guilt, knowing he had exploited her anxieties as well as her loyalty to her brother by accepting the audacious offer she had made to take his place.
This was a unique situation, he had reflected. There were no rules dictating how he should or shouldn’t behave. He was far from sure how he wanted it to end with Lizzie—or if he wanted it to end at all yet. Whatever the final outcome between them, instinct had told him he must soften the situation quickly—hence the glamorous clothes he had ordered for her. Her lack of luggage had provided him with the perfect excuse.
