Captive of Kadar

by Trish Morey

  He didn’t talk and she didn’t expect him to. She was happy with silence. Because while her legs were weak, her knees were sore, and her body felt spent, never before had she felt so alive in the knowledge of what her body was capable of.

  And she made a vow to herself right there and then, as she lifted her face up to the stream of water, that never again would she settle. Not now that she knew what was possible.

  * * *

  He should be angry. He was angry, but with himself. Not since he’d been a teenager had he come so close to having sex with a woman without using protection.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  Thank God she didn’t seem the kind of woman who wanted to make small talk after sex. He snapped off the shower and handed her a towel and so what if he was a little brusque as he passed it to her? He had things on his mind.

  What had he been thinking? One minute he’d been in control and pleasuring her the way he knew women liked to be pleasured, and the next he was almost forgetting the most basic of rules.

  Thank God his friends—Zoltan and Bahir and Rashid—would never find out. They would love that if they knew. They’d have him married off. Written off. Same thing really.

  He threw his towel on the floor.

  It was just a mistake. It had been a while and the sight of the curved perfection of the sweep of her bare back had momentarily side-swiped his brain. That was all.

  It wouldn’t happen again.

  ‘Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat or drink?’ he asked as she towel-dried her hair.

  Her hands paused and she blinked up at him with her beautiful blue eyes, her wet hair tousled and curling in tendrils around her face.

  Medusa, he thought, with the power to turn a man to stone. That would explain it. And then dismissed the thought as ridiculous in the next breath.

  ‘I could do with something to drink. Coffee?’

  ‘Make yourself comfortable in bed. I’ll bring some.’

  Night had fallen while they’d been in the shower and now the black sea was lit with the lights of ships and a silver glow from the moon.

  She was in bed when he returned, the covers pulled up over her breasts, but it wasn’t that that threw him. It was that she was even here. He wasn’t used to women being in his bed. Rarely if ever he’d bring a woman back to his apartment. Never he’d entertain the thought of her staying until morning.

  And yet this woman was staying until morning.

  Only, he reminded himself as he put the tray down on a side table, because she was leaving early to join her tour group.

  He wasn’t making an exception, so much as adapting to circumstances.

  It didn’t mean anything, no matter how good she looked there.

  ‘This is service,’ she said, scooting up higher in the bed, her arm modestly holding the covers over her breasts.

  And that, he realised, was the difference right there.

  His usual kind of women didn’t do modesty. They were all about advertising their wares, even when he told them he wasn’t in the market to buy, in the hopes they might convince him to change his mind.

  He’d never change his mind.

  He put a tiny cup of coffee and a glass of water beside her, and offered her the Turkish delight.

  ‘Oh, I love this,’ she said, taking a piece and clearly savouring it as she put the sweet in her mouth.

  ‘I know,’ he said, when she looked up at him questioningly. ‘I saw you in the Spice Market, remember? I remember the look on your face when you tasted some.’

  ‘Oh.’

  She turned her face away and reached for her coffee, but not before he’d got the distinct impression she was blushing. A woman in his bed blushing. He shook his head. It was turning into a night of firsts.

  She sipped her coffee and kept her gaze averted and he was compelled to ask.

  ‘Why did you run from me?’

  Her head wheeled around and yes, he’d been right, because there were the telltale red stains on her cheeks. ‘What?’

  ‘In the Spice Market. Why did you run?’

  ‘I didn’t—’ she began, her eyes wide with denial, before she saw his raised eyebrow and turned her eyes up to the high ceiling. ‘Okay,’ she said with a shrug, ‘I can see it might look that way. It’s just that you startled me a little. You looked so...’

  She paused mid-sentence, her teeth scraping her bottom lip.

  ‘So—what?’

  ‘Intense.’

  He smiled. Intense was exactly what he’d felt the moment she’d smiled. ‘You have a unique beauty. It is hard not to stare at you.’

  Her eyes were wide and lit so brightly blue, her cheeks flushed, her lips pinked and slightly parted and his groin ached anew.

  ‘You’re doing it again,’ she said, sounding suddenly breathless.

  And he took her hand and pressed the back of it to his lips. ‘I know.’

  She gasped and he felt her tremble under his lips.

  ‘Is that why you did it?’ she whispered. ‘Is that why you got involved back there, with the coin seller?’

  He shrugged and kept her smooth-skinned hand in his and thought about how close he’d been to getting into his car and how he would have left without a backward glance if not for the arrival of the polis. And even then, he hadn’t interceded on her behalf with any ulterior motives.

  They had come later, when the polis had wanted a guarantee and it had occurred to him that there was one sure way he could keep her out of trouble...

  ‘I do not like to see people taken advantage of,’ he simply said. ‘Especially when they cannot speak the language.’

  ‘So you hang around the Spice Market saving tourists from being ripped off. That’s very noble of you.’

  He smiled. For all her shyness, for all her inexperience, she wasn’t a complete mouse. ‘Well, perhaps I am selective in whom I choose to help.’

  ‘So why did you choose to help me?’

  ‘Because you don’t speak Turkish and you were at a disadvantage.’

  ‘Oh.’

  It was one of those disappointed ‘ohsʼ. The ones women gave when they’d got the wrong answer to their question. And in spite of the fact he owed her nothing, that he was already doing her a favour and he had no need to stroke her ego, he curled an arm around her neck and drew her close.

  ‘You know why I chose you.’ He pressed his lips to hers, and tasted coffee and Turkish delight and the essence of woman and his body stirred. ‘Because I wanted you.’ Her eyes were wide, her lips parted as he pushed the covers from her perfect breasts and curled his fingers around one, his thumb teasing one nipple into bold relief. ‘Because I knew it would be good.’ Her breath hitched as he sent his hand southwards, skimming the slight undulations of belly and hips and between her legs as his hand parted her. She gasped as his thumb circled that tightly bound nub of nerve endings while his fingers found her slick and ready.

  He reached for a condom and in the next movement pulled her astride him, positioning her and drawing her down his length as breath hissed through his teeth.

  ‘And I was right.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE NIGHT WAS short and morning came too soon. He watched the sun rise from the terrace, saw its coming light wash the sky pink above the hills and apartment buildings lining the shores of the Golden Horn, before it burst free of the land and blazed red into the winter’s day.

  Too soon.

  But he could not stay with her in bed. The urge to hold her had been too strong.

  He did not hold women in the morning. This was new to him. Uncomfortable. Discomfiting.

  But then he did not entertain women who did not bat an eye at his scars, who recognised burns for what they were, and who asked him if
he wanted to talk about it. Of course, he had no wish to talk about it. But he wasn’t used to being asked.

  He looked at the watch he’d slipped on his wrist before stepping out in his robe onto the terrace. It was time she was up. He turned to go inside and make coffee.

  It was just as well she was leaving.

  * * *

  She woke alone, confused at first, until she remembered where she was and in whose bed.

  But alone, the mattress beside her cold.

  So he had taken his fill of her? She sighed.

  So be it. She picked up her watch and checked the time. Today she left Istanbul on her tour and she was excited about that. Really she was, even if her excitement was blunted at the thought of leaving this night and this man behind.

  For the night had been one revelation after another. There was nothing, it seemed, that this man could not do with his clever mouth and his skilful fingers and his...

  Oh, God. She shivered, remembering the feel of him sliding into her. Sliding out.

  Delicious memories she could take home.

  Memories against which all future lovers would no doubt be judged. It wasn’t such a bad souvenir.

  And the tour was why she was here. To follow in the other Amber’s footsteps and visit the sights of Turkey and some of the places she’d been so excited about visiting more than a century and a half ago. And if she found something that linked her great-great-great grandmother to this country somewhere, something that might explain those missing years that were probably described in the pages that had been torn from her diary, that would be the bonus.

  She was already showered and dressed, her crazy bed-head hair tamed in a knot behind her head, and folding the last of her things into her pack when he came in with coffee.

  ‘In a hurry to leave?’

  She smiled. He almost sounded annoyed she was almost ready. She knew he wasn’t. Whatever pleasures of the night they’d shared, he would be more than happy to get rid of his charge, having faithfully discharged his duties. ‘I thought you’d want to be rid of your obligation as soon as possible.’

  ‘You’re not expected at the tour office until eight.’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind getting there early. There’ll no doubt be others waiting who I can talk to. I might as well get a head start on meeting my companions for the next few days.’

  He grunted. ‘As you wish.’ Then he headed for the shower.

  She sipped her coffee thoughtfully.

  Well, she hadn’t expected him to try to talk her out of going early and he didn’t disappoint. She’d been a distraction for a night for him and he was no doubt wanting to get rid of her and get back to his life.

  * * *

  The morning was cold, dark coats and wool scarves the order of the day. And even though she protested, he insisted on buying her yoghurt and zucchini fritters for breakfast with freshly squeezed orange juice, and some bread for the trip. Duty, she told herself. He’d taken his pleasure and it was all about duty now.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said as she tied her scarf around her throat and they headed out onto the street, the clang of tram bells and the call of sea birds heavy in the thick cold air.

  He shrugged. ‘It was only a light breakfast.’

  And she smiled. ‘No, I mean, thank you, for last night. For everything.’

  ‘It was my pleasure.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I rather think it was mine.’ He smiled at that and offered her his arm, one last gesture, one last touch, and she took it.

  She would miss Kadar. He’d rescued her. He’d educated her. He’d shown her that there was an entire world of sexual experience out there that she’d only ever glimpsed at, and she wasn’t going to settle for average again.

  There was a crowd gathered around the shopfront of the office where she was due to meet her tour. She glanced at her watch. It was only a few minutes before eight. ‘Surely they’re open by now?’

  Kadar’s eyes narrowed. Someone was yelling. A woman was crying. A young man was pounding on the door with his fist. There were so many people and it was impossible to know who was supposed to be joining the tour and who had stopped to watch the proceedings.

  He spotted a local man standing on the periphery and asked him in Turkish what was happening.

  He took a drag of his cigarette and pointed to a sign on the door, almost hidden amongst the travel posters featuring shots of Ephesus and Pamukkale and more.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked as he peered over heads to read the sign.

  ‘The tour is cancelled,’ he told her. ‘The tour company offers its “sincere apologies to its clients” but is unable to keep trading. So your tour—and all tours current and future—is cancelled.’

  ‘Cancelled? But how can it be cancelled? What about my money? I’ve already paid.’

  ‘Do you have travel insurance?’ he asked her.

  ‘Of course. But—’

  ‘Then you need to contact your insurer immediately.’

  ‘But what about the tour? I’ve paid for eight days’ travel and accommodation. What am I supposed to do now?’ She looked up at him, searching for answers, and then shook her head as she remembered what he was doing here. Dropping her off. ‘Oh, forget it. Not your problem. You might as well go. I’m sure someone will sort something out.’

  ‘I’m not leaving.’

  ‘There’s no point staying.’

  ‘I will not leave you here in the faint hope that someone will sort something out. Chances are, nothing will be sorted out, and you will have to make alternative arrangements.’

  She felt a tiny frisson of warmth. Maybe he had felt something for her after their night of pleasure. Maybe he wasn’t so keen to be rid of her after all.

  She smiled. ‘Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.’

  ‘It’s not sweet. I told the polis I would be responsible for you while you were in Istanbul. While you remain here, for whatever reason, you also remain my responsibility.’

  He might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water over her. ‘Duty,’ she snapped.

  ‘Duty,’ he agreed. ‘But you yourself have seen, duty and pleasure need not be mutually exclusive.’

  She shook her head, not sure that was such a good idea. One night had been their deal. One night, and she could manage to walk away knowing it had to be this way and feeling only the slightest pang of regret. But to stay longer in this man’s company? In this man’s bed? When it was obvious that he neither meant it nor wanted it. ‘No, there’s no need. I’m sure someone will be here soon to sort something out.’

  ‘I just did. We will leave your contact details with someone in the group. If something is resolved, they can let you know. Meanwhile you will come with me.’

  She didn’t want to go with him. She might have wished their one night together had been longer, but she didn’t like him assuming he could tell her what to do. She’d had enough of people telling her what she could and couldn’t do. That was half the reason she was in Istanbul. ‘No, I am not going with you.’

  ‘And if I tell the polis that you refused to co-operate and they decide to press charges after all?’

  Heads turned and she cursed him under her breath as she pulled his arm around so their backs were to the crowd. ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she whispered.

  ‘I am responsible for you. If you wish to go it alone, I will have no choice but to let them know. In case you come to the authorities’ attention again and they blame me for not doing as I promised.’

  ‘I am not going to get in trouble again.’

  ‘How do I know that?’

  ‘Because I told you.’

  ‘And you also told me you had been intending to buy those coins. An illegal act. Now do you understand why I cannot trust you alone?’
/>   ‘Go to hell!’

  ‘I’m sure that can be arranged. But rest assured, if that’s where I’m going, you will be accompanying me.’

  She rolled her eyes and caught sight of a woman nearby watching them, their conversation clearly more interesting than the student pounding on the door or the man yelling or the woman rocking on her haunches and wailing melodramatically.

  ‘He’s my uncle,’ Amber explained, ‘married to my mother’s sister and he thinks he rules the world.’

  ‘She’s my recalcitrant niece,’ Kadar said, ‘and if a tour bus turned up right now, I would gladly throw her bodily onto it.’

  The Canadian woman jerked her head towards the wailing, yelling, fist-thumping members of the group. ‘That would be a pretty reasonable punishment. I’m beginning to think I may have just been saved from the tour companions from hell.’

  And then she reached for Amber’s arm. ‘Sweetie, take my advice and go with your uncle. Anything’s better than being stuck with this lot. Sure I might prefer to count my money, but I’m counting my blessings already.’

  ‘You should listen to your new friend,’ Kadar said. ‘She makes a lot of sense.’

  ‘Thank you, Uncle Kadar. It seems I don’t have a choice right now.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t.’ He passed Amber’s contact details on to the Canadian woman and asked her to call if she learned anything. Then he took Amber’s arm. ‘Shall we go?’

  What choice did she have? ‘He’s not really my uncle,’ Amber threw over her shoulder as they left.

  ‘I know,’ the woman said with a smile. ‘Lucky you.’

  * * *

  She didn’t feel lucky. Her tour had been cancelled and unless she got some emergency assistance from her travel-insurance provider, she’d done the bulk of her travel money, and meanwhile she was stuck instead with the babysitter from hell. And he might be amazing in the sack, but there was more to life than great sex.