Captive of Kadar

by Trish Morey

  And she could understand why he’d want to make love with her in a way her hands couldn’t reach around to touch his back and remind him of his scars.

  She could understand completely.

  But she should have let him keep making love to her that way. She should never have insisted on him making love to her face to face.

  Because she’d just lost a tiny seed of resentment against him, right there, and instead found a whole new reason to wish he might keep on making love to her.

  And she could do with a reason to resent him, if she was to think about going home.

  But how could she forget that this was Kadar, who’d already branded her a thief and was happy to tell others the same? She didn’t need to look for reasons to resent him. How could she forgive him that?

  She dragged in air, her body slowly spinning, coming down from the dizzy heights he’d taken her to. She couldn’t. But still, right at this moment, feeling boneless and replete, the only resentment she felt was that her time with Kadar was already ticking down.

  A fact that should not make her feel half as sorry as it did.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MORE THAN ONE THOUSAND kilometres from Istanbul’s busy streets, the town of Burguk could have been on another planet. The valley in which the town nestled ringed with mountains topped with snow while the landscape was lunar, rocks the colour of sand, carved into strange shapes by the weather.

  The stone buildings of the town hunkered into the land as if the wind had carved them out too, as if they were part of the landscape. As if they belonged.

  It was a harsh landscape, but with a kind of stark beauty that drew the eye. Snow had filled the streets the week before and promised to again before too long, but for now the melting snow was piled in dirty heaps on the roadsides and skinny trees pointed bare branches towards the sky, as if begging for warmth from the thin sun.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said as their car topped a rise that gave them a view over the entire valley and Kadar asked their driver to pull over.

  The wind whipped and tugged at her hair and at the hem of his cashmere coat as they walked to the edge of the ridge overlooking the valley, set out before them like a shallow, wide basin edged in low hills and ringed with snow-topped mountains. The wind could be nothing but icy cold.

  ‘It’s not dissimilar to Cappadocia,’ he said, ‘just not on so grand a scale.’

  ‘My tour was supposed to spend two days there.’

  ‘I am sorry you were forced to miss some of the places your tour was supposed to cover.’

  She wasn’t. Not now. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t come back some time, find a tour agency that was accredited and reputable and visit the places she’d missed. Besides, if her tour agency hadn’t folded, she wouldn’t be here now, in this man’s presence, discovering a part of Turkey that she’d never known existed.

  Hell, she wouldn’t be here with this man, period. And to think she’d once resented his insistence that he watch over her.

  How could she be sorry when her days were filled with adventure and her nights were filled with the discoveries of the flesh?

  Something had changed last night, when he’d made love to her face to face. Something had subtly shifted in the balance between them.

  And that change left her feeling as uncomfortable as it had left her gratified.

  ‘I’ll come back one day,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders against the cold wind and the icy fingers trying to find their way under her scarf. ‘All those sights have been there centuries. They’ll all still be there.’

  ‘Maybe you will come back for your honeymoon.’

  She looked across at him. Had he been tapping into her thoughts? Was he warning her not to think this was anything more than temporary? He should have kept listening and then he’d have got to the part about never falling for a man who couldn’t trust you implicitly, even if the sex was mind-blowing. That might have given him a measure of comfort.

  But until then, she might as well play along.

  ‘What a great idea,’ she said. ‘Maybe I will. And I’ll be sure to bring him around to meet you, don’t worry.’

  ‘That would not be such a good idea.’ But there was a smile behind his words that told her he knew she was kidding.

  He ushered her back towards the car, wondering at this woman who didn’t quake in fear or even take him seriously but bounced shots right back at him. He’d smiled, even though her words grated on him. There was no place for her in his future—even as a visitor. There was even less place for a partner. He didn’t want to think of another man with her, then or now. Which was a thought that gave him pause. Because he’d never asked...

  ‘Do you have a boyfriend back in Australia?’

  She stopped halfway back to the car and turned to him. ‘That seems a very odd question to ask someone after the things we’ve done together.’

  He shrugged. ‘Do you?’

  She searched his eyes, and sighed, looking for the message in his words, when he’d already made it plain that this was temporary. ‘You have already branded me a thief. And now, I see, you’re attributing me with the morals of an alley cat. If you want me to be impatient for being free of you, you’re going the right way about it.’ She turned to walk away and he stopped her with his hand on her arm.

  ‘I am surprised if you do not, that is all. I was not trying to insult you.’

  ‘You could have fooled me. If your woman was travelling in another country, how would you feel if she slept with another man while she was there?’

  ‘It would not happen. She would not be my woman if she could do such a thing.’

  ‘Then why would you possibly imagine I could do that? Unless you thought I was some kind of tart.’

  ‘I have already told you, I didn’t mean that. I just do not understand why a woman such as you wouldn’t have a man.’

  ‘You mean a thief like me?’

  ‘I mean beautiful like you.’

  She closed her eyes, swallowing against a shudder. She wished he hadn’t said that. It was pointless. Irrelevant. And dulled the edges of her resentment and made her wish that he was another man because she could not afford to go falling for this one.

  ‘I had a man, as it happens. Though more a worm than a man, come to think of it.’

  Dark brows drew together. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I found him in bed with my best friend.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘Not my favourite day, that one.’

  He stood there, dark eyes meeting blue as the cold wind whipped around them both, and she held her breath, praying that he didn’t say he was sorry. She couldn’t bear it if he pitied her.

  ‘He was a fool.’

  She breathed out again, relieved. ‘Perhaps.’ And while it had been nice to hear Kadar’s assessment equated with her own, it hadn’t been Cameron who’d been the biggest fool. ‘I’m well rid of him and I’m not looking to go down that particular route again any time soon, so, you see, you have nothing to fear from me.’

  ‘I had nothing to fear from you anyway.’

  She smiled, but it was half through gritted teeth this time, and she wondered at a conversation that seemed to have more twists and turns than a grand prix track. ‘Other than I might sneak off with the silverware, you mean.’

  ‘No, it is you who needs to fear, if that happens.’

  She blinked. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘That would be wise.’

  * * *

  A few kilometres beyond the town, they pulled up outside a high stone wall. ‘Welcome to the Pavilion of the Moon,’ Kadar said as their driver took care of their luggage.

  Amber was confused. All she could see behind the wall was a cliff face, soaring high. Until he swung the gate open and she could see the tall timber
doors and the windows, set into the cliff itself.

  She imagined it must be tiny, one or two rooms at most, so she was in no way prepared for the sheer magnitude of it when he opened the heavy doors. It was a miniature palace that had been dug out under the cliff, with columns and archways carved from the stone, and arched alcoves cut into the walls that contained richly decorated vases and urns. Silk rugs lay scattered on the floor and dark timber furniture contrasted against walls that subtly placed lamps turned golden.

  ‘It’s incredible,’ she said, turning full circle to take it all in. ‘And a sultan stayed here?’

  ‘On occasion. It was a long journey from the city then called Constantinople, but yes, this was his retreat.’

  ‘Who would have thought of it?’

  ‘There were caves in the cliffs that shepherds used over the centuries. They’d been abandoned when the Sultan’s hunting party camped here under the moon and found them.’

  ‘It’s fabulous.’

  He smiled. ‘There is more.’ Her enthusiasm was infectious, the spat they’d had at the ridge top clearly forgotten in her excitement.

  He showed her through the many rooms, leaving the Sultan’s suite one of the last, anticipating her delight, not disappointed when her eyes lit up. She brightened up anywhere that she smiled.

  The room was palatial, the posts of the bed actual columns carved from the stone, archways leading to an expansive bathroom complete with a heated slab of stone for the hamam and a sunken bath. Marble tiles lined the walls and floor and there were feature tiles with tulips, a splash of red and green to break up the gold of marble and walls.

  ‘Do you think you will be happy here for a few days while I take care of business?’

  She turned those lapis lazuli eyes at him and shook her head. ‘How could I not? I can’t believe how lucky I am to actually stay here. It’s magnificent.’

  And because those eyes shone like gems, he could not help himself. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  A frown tugged at her brows. ‘What for?’

  ‘For our little disagreement before. I am not used to having a woman around.’ Not for longer than the time it took to bed her, that was. ‘I am used to being on my own.’

  ‘I’m sorry you got lumbered with me.’

  He was about to say he was sorry too. Except he wasn’t. Not any more. Now he looked for her wonder and her smiles, and every one of them lit up his solitary life just a little bit more.

  It was good to have her around. Just for a while.

  Not that he would tell her any of that.

  ‘We all have to do our duty,’ he said stiffly as he led her back into the bedroom. ‘There are other rooms to show you, but you must excuse me, I am expected elsewhere.’

  ‘What is this mysterious business of yours that brings you all the way out here?’

  ‘It’s no mystery. I have a factory here.’

  ‘That makes what?’

  ‘Pyrotechnics.’

  ‘You make fireworks?’

  ‘Yes. And run a business that organises displays all over the world, amongst other things.’

  ‘But isn’t that dangerous?’

  He glanced at her. ‘It can be.’

  She was distracted from asking more questions when she saw their bags sitting inside the door of the Sultan’s bedroom.

  ‘Why is our luggage here?’

  ‘Where else did you think we were going to sleep?’

  ‘But it’s the Sultan’s room.’

  ‘You would prefer not to sleep in the Sultan’s bed?’

  ‘I didn’t think it would be allowed.’

  ‘When the Pavilion of the Moon is turned into a museum, it will not be. But for now, it belongs to Mehmet and he has offered us his hospitality. It would be churlish to refuse.’

  She thought about that, and what an amazing gift she’d been given when Mehmet had offered the use of the Pavilion of the Moon during their stay.

  ‘I’d hate to be seen as churlish.’

  He smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Then it is decided.’

  Amber chose to be dropped in town to explore on foot, while Kadar attended his meetings. There weren’t many tourists and she drew plenty of curiosity with her blond hair and blue eyes as she wandered from shop to shop.

  She wasn’t worried about being by herself. Kadar had assured her she would be safe. Everyone knew, he said, that she was with him. How he could be so certain, she didn’t know.

  But besides, she wasn’t really alone. A small boy had taken to following her, shadowing her a few steps back, and looking around ingenuously whenever she happened to catch sight of him behind her.

  He made her smile and she was happy to let him drift along behind her, trying to pretend he wasn’t there.

  She found a handicrafts shop, selling local crafts, and she noticed an embroidered throw in the window like the one she’d seen around Mehmet’s legs. Like his, it had a border of stylised tulips surrounding a richly coloured pattern of shapes and crooked trees. Her mother would love it. And now that Kadar had so generously picked up all her expenses, she knew her money would last and she could afford to buy a few souvenirs for her family.

  Five minutes later she emerged from the shop with the throw in a gift bag, surprised at the price the man in the shop had charged, but he’d insisted the ridiculously tiny amount was correct. She would check with Kadar later but for some reason she felt she’d been given a huge discount. So she very happily bought an evil eye keyring for her brother and a coffee table book of Turkish landscape photographs for her father into the deal.

  She smiled and said hello when she saw her shadow waiting patiently for her outside, but he just looked around as if he didn’t know who she was talking to.

  She bought a simple cup of pomegranate juice from a man with a cart who sliced the fat red fruit and spun a lever to press the fruit juice and let the juice run free. And when she tried to pay him, he waved the payment away. ‘Please,’ she insisted, pointing to a painted sign that clearly displayed the price in Turkish lire, but he insisted.

  So instead she held out the money for the small boy who was waiting a little distance away. He blinked at her uncertainly and so she nodded and he grinned and came running up, laughing when he held the coins in his hand.

  He ran off shouting and she looked up to see the man at the juice cart smiling widely himself.

  She shrugged and wandered away, sipping on the red juice, both sweet and tart and refreshing, when she heard a commotion behind her and she turned and saw a group of children running, headed by the boy she’d given the few coins to. She caught the eye of the juice cart man who was laughing and it was his turn to shrug as the children surrounded her.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘you can have lire too, but give me a guided tour around the town first.’

  Between her clumsy hand signals and the assistance of the juice seller, the children shouted their agreement, shepherding her around the sights of the town, past the baker’s shop, and the spice shop that sold sweets and fruit and the school where they went. All the sights that were important to them. And as they went her little group of tour guides grew.

  She loved it, as amused by them as they were by her, until she found a small girl trailing behind them, a small girl who walked with a limp, and a lump came to her throat as she was reminded of her tiny cousin, Tash, born with more problems than any child deserved, and how still she’d seemed to have a heart as big as a lion as she’d struggled to keep up with big sisters and her cousins as they’d played. Although as it turned out, her heart had never been that big or that strong...

  She swallowed.

  Amber had been fifteen years old when Tash’s frail body had given up.

  And for the first time, Amber felt a little homesick, missing her cla
ss of children at the school where she worked in Melbourne’s suburbs, and their unconditional love and hugs. On an impulse, she scooped the blinking child up into her arms and carried her the rest of the way.

  When Kadar found her, she was sitting in a café near a brazier peeling oranges for a clutch of children, a little girl sitting in her lap, busily watching Amber’s nimble fingers work. An orange in her own hands, she was trying to copy her movements. And he was surprised, despite the various reports he’d been hearing.

  ‘I heard we had a new pied piper in the town.’ She looked up, blinking, before she grinned. The little girl in her lap looked up at him, her eyes wide. He smiled at the scene before him. ‘Had a good afternoon with your new friends?’

  ‘The best. Who told you?’

  ‘Just about everyone I spoke to. News travels fast here. You’re quite a hit with the locals.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘I suspect that may have something to do with you. Everywhere I went, I seemed to score a bargain. Even the bag of oranges—surely they must have been flown in this time of year?’

  Kadar shrugged and gave nothing away as silently the children watched them, their expressions uncertain as the adults spoke in a language they understood only a word or two of as yet. Until he said something to them and they nodded and smiled and ran away, pieces of orange clutched in their hands. The little girl in her lap gave Amber a hug and clambered down. She had a twisted leg, Kadar realised, as he watched her hobble away, trying to catch up with the others, the orange Amber she’d been working on held precious to her chest.

  ‘Does she have far to go?’ she asked, watching the child, and he realised she actually cared. And it shouldn’t matter, but somehow it registered in a place he wasn’t used to going.

  ‘No,’ he said, his voice sounding as if it had been poured over gravel, even to him. ‘Nothing is far here.’ But he wondered all the same.

  ‘I like Burguk,’ she said, using napkins to soak up the juice from her hands. ‘I like the people here. I like the children.’

  ‘I told them they would see you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘At the feast the village is preparing.’