Borrowed plumes

by Elizabeth Ashton

She was called away to the telephone, and Alex enquired : 'Does that programme appeal to you?'

  'Certainly not! I'm not a brood mare,' Jan declared indignantly. 'Your lady friend has most primitive ideas.'

  'The islanders' ideas are fundamental,' Alex told her. 'They consider a woman's prime duty is to produce a male child, and that is her fulfilment. Until she does she's negligible.'

  'How elemental,' Jan scoffed, but she was thinking it might be a wonderful achievement to bear Alex's son. Anxious that he should not divine her thought, she went on hurriedly: 'I'd be obliged if you'd show more consideration for my good name. Calling me your concubine, indeed!'

  'You lost that when you came aboard my boat,' he returned drily.

  'Oh no, no one would think ...' she was going to say no one would believe she could attract Alex, but she knew how malicious gossip could be. 'No one will know,' she concluded lamely, 'unless your friend talks.' 'Leda? She is the soul of discretion, she has to be in her trade.'

  At that point Leda returned. 'Another cruise party tomorrow,' she said, with a sigh, 'but it is good business. Kyrie, before you go will you have a word with Stephanos? He likes to see you.'

  'Certainly.' Alex rose. 'Please excuse me,' he said to Jan.

  'Ah, but the thespoinis must come too,' the woman said, and laid her hand on Jan's arm. Alex seemed about to protest, then shrugged and followed them into a room in the hotel, entering by a french window. A teenage boy lay on a couch, with beautiful dark eyes and the same classic profile as Leda's, obviously her son. His face lit up when he saw Alex, and he sat down beside him, speaking to him in Greek. Leda drew Jan aside.

  'My son was very ill, he needed a very expensive operation. Kyrios Leandris sent him to Athens and paid many drachmae for his treatment. Now he will recover. We bless the kyrios' name.'

  Alex looked at them suspiciously. 'What are you whispering about, Leda?'

  'Nothing, kyrie, but you like to hide your light under a bushel,' Leda declared.

  Alex laughed vexedly. 'Since you've gone all Biblical, isn't there a text about not letting your left hand know what your right hand does?' He glanced at his watch. 'It is getting late, we must be getting back.'

  They took their leave and crossed to the yacht in silence. Jan was digesting this new aspect of Alexandres Leandris. Obviously Leda and her son adored him and he had gone out of his way to help Stephanos. Since she had assessed him as selfish and unfeeling, it was disconcerting to discover a more human side to him. She wanted to believe he was a cad and a reprobate, it was her defence against him, and to find he was otherwise was too dangerous. When they had re-boarded the ship, she said to him:

  'It seems you like to keep your good deeds under cover.'

  'If you're referring to Stephanos, what if I did do the kid a good turn? A few drachmae means nothing to me, that doesn't make me a model character. Don't go running away with the idea that I'm a do-gooder or you'll be sadly disillusioned.'

  There was an edge to his voice and she recalled that he had not wanted her to accompany him to see the boy and discover what he had done.

  'Well, if you'd prefer that I should continue to think you're a callous brute ...' she began uncertainly.

  'I'd much prefer it,' he cut in. 'It's nearer the truth.'

  'The hard, bitter cynic?' she gibed.

  They reached the door of her cabin, and he stepped in front of her so she could not enter it, 'Exactly, and I'll prove it. Did you enjoy your evening?'

  'Very much, and thank you.' She looked up at him uneasily; he was looking very formidable.

  'Then wouldn't you like to express your thanks appropriately?'

  She froze. Surely he couldn't mean...?

  'I... what do you want?' she stammered.

  'Oh, not to share your bed,' he said lightly. 'But a kiss wouldn't cost you much.'

  He was so near, almost touching her, and in every nerve she was conscious of him. Her body ached for his embrace. Closing her eyes, she raised her face, murmuring breathlessly:

  'Then take it.'

  'Oh no, if I were going to take I wouldn't ask. I want you to give it.'

  A quiver ran through her, but she made no move, some sort of paralysis constrained her limbs. She wanted to, but she couldn't.

  Alex waited while tension built up between them, then he shrugged his shoulders.

  'Evidently you're not feeling generous. Goodnight.'

  He came away from the door, after pushing it open for her to enter, then he strode away without a backward look.

  Jan slowly entered her cabin in a welter of self-reproach. Why could she not do as he had asked? A kiss meant nothing. But that was just it. To him it would have been merely a graceful way of saying thank you. He had kissed Leda when they left the hotel, lightly and carelessly, and he had expected a similar action from her. But she was not in the habit of bestowing casual kisses, and for her it had much greater significance. It meant capitulation to the beast, acceptance of his attitude towards Renata. She was sure that he automatically sought to subjugate every woman who came within his orbit, even so humble a person as herself, but until he made clear his intentions towards her cousin, he was still her enemy. When they reached Istanbul their truce would end. Regret returned to self-congratulation that she had been strong enough to refuse him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Artemis sailed in the small hours, and when Jan awoke, it was to see land upon either side as the yacht entered the Dardanelles. Her sleep had been haunted by troubled dreams of Alex. Through various obstacles, mist, flood and even fire, she was trying to reach him with an important message, but always he eluded her. When finally she thought she had come up' with him, pushing her way through briars, she found no human being, but a snarling tiger. That part was all too vivid, and she woke in a cold sweat, with her hair all about her face, which accounted for the briars. She lay for a while reflecting upon the inconsequence of dreams. Her subconscious must have identified Alex with the beast to which she had sometimes likened him, but he had not been at all tigerish on the previous evening. Ariadne arrived with her morning cup of tea, and a pile of laundry. Not only had her own clothes been washed, but also the ones she had worn the day before. After she had bathed, she looked with some distaste at her dowdy cotton frock, then yielded to temptation and put on the navy and white silk. It was much more becoming than her own dress, and she did not want to shame Alex in front of his crew, she told herself, though she knew the excuse was flimsy. She wrestled with her hair, trying to do it as Ariadne had done, but her efforts were a failure; it was too fine and soft to be easily manipulated. Finally she plaited it, made the plaits into a door-knocker in her nape, but left it loosened about her face, tying a flimsy scarf over her head. There were plenty of those in the cabin wardrobe.

  When she came on deck she found Alex was breakfasting with the captain. This gentleman was officially in charge of the yacht unless Alex chose to take command. He was a short, thickset man with a roving eye. Both men stood up when they saw her, as she stood hesitating, and Alex waved to her to come forward. The captain brightened visibly as his master introduced them. His name was quite unpronounceable. He left them after an exchange of platitudes, and Alex became preoccupied while she ate her rolls and fruit. He had papers beside him to which he kept referring. Thus she had plenty of opportunity to study him. In repose his face was a little sad, the well shaped mouth firm but not hard. Long black eyelashes veiled his eyes. He was younger than she had first supposed, there were no lines on his smooth face, the hands which held the papers were long-fingered, beautifully formed and sensitive. She wondered about him. He must be hard-headed and ruthless to hold the position he did, at his age, and she could sense his force and drive. Women, she surmised, were only a relaxation to him, and if he did marry Renata it would be because she would do him credit, a decorative addition to his household; she could not imagine him in love. Passion he had in plenty, she had experienced some of that, but no softer feelings.

  He loo
ked up and caught her speculative expression, and instantly his eyes became full of mockery.

  'Well, have you come to any conclusion?'

  She blushed. 'You're an enigma, Mr. Leandris.'

  'Alex, please, and I thought it was women who are supposed to be mysterious, though I've never found them so. I'm just a plain hard-working business man, with an eye for a pretty girl. What I want I take, if I can get it, but so do most people. And now you must excuse me, I've work to do in connection with yesterday's deal' He collected his papers.

  Jan offered to type for him, but was told brusquely that no typing was required.

  'You'd prefer the role of secretary to concubine?' he enquired as he rose to go to his cabin, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  'Definitely.'

  'I wonder.'

  'You needn't. The one's my trade, the other...' She shook her head. 'Apart from the moral issues I've no amatory arts, you'd find me disappointing.'

  He gave her a long, level look which caused her colour to rise.

  'You still don't know your potential, Jan,' he told her, and with that cryptic utterance he left her.

  Jan went to the rail to watch the flow of traffic as the yacht entered the Sea of Marmara, and there was plenty to see—cruise liners, battered merchantmen, calques, ferry boats and dozens of smaller craft. Some of the bigger ships lay at anchor, waiting for a pilot. Jan wondered if Alex would have dared to withdraw if Renata had been aboard. Her lovely cousin would not accept neglect, but she herself would rather be without his company, she told herself mendaciously, for she missed his stimulating presence, especially during lunch, which she was served in solitary state in the saloon; the master, she was told, begged to be excused, he was having a sandwich in his stateroom, and was hard at work.

  They did not reach Istanbul that day. The Artemis anchored off one of the islands in that sea, and Alex remained incommunicado until dinner, by which time Jan was heartily tired of her own society. There were books in the lounge, but she was too restless and apprehensive to read. She did not know what Alex intended to do with her when they reached port. Apparently dump her on his mother, a prospect which was vaguely alarming. No landing party went ashore, the yacht lay still in a calm sea. Almost she could wish a storm would arise, and there were sudden squalls in that locality, but nothing happened, and dusk gathered softy over the quiet water. Jan did not change for dinner, and neither did Alex, but she had to discard her scarf, and she unplaited her hair, letting it flow loose over her shoulders. As she had secretly hoped it attracted Alex's attention.

  'Forgive this informality,' he apologised as he came into the saloon where she was waiting for him, 'I'm too tired to dress up.' And he did look weary after his hours of concentration. 'I see you haven't either, and I like the hair. It really is quite lovely.' He walked up to her, lifting up a strand of it between his finger and thumb. 'And fine as silk.' His eyes narrowed as he dropped it. 'Your possibilities are endless, my dear.'

  'I'm not your dear,' she retorted, moving away, for his nearness affected her strongly. 'And my possibilities, though I'm not sure what you mean by that, are nothing to do with you.'

  'Now, now,' he protested, as they seated themselves. 'What about our truce?'

  'That doesn't necessitate insincere endearments.'

  'More prickles!' He gave a mock sigh. 'What do you want to talk about? The history of ancient Byzantium? Believe me, personalities, however insincere, would be much more entertaining.'

  'No doubt, but history is a much safer topic'

  'Ah!' His eyes gleamed. 'You consider I'm dangerous?'

  'That's why I'm here. You thoroughly put the wind up poor Rena, and I think you are a danger... to her.'

  He gave her a quizzical look, and addressed himself to the very excellent fish soup the steward then placed before him. Naturally he employed a good chef and the food was always delicious.

  After that he did embark upon Byzantine history, partly because the man kept coming in and out and showed himself to be very knowledgeable.

  'The city was eventually conquered by the Turks,' he concluded. 'The sultans at the Topkapi palace were a cruel vicious lot.'

  'And kept vast harems?' Jan queried curiously.

  'Oh, of course.' He leaned back in his chair. The food had revived him and he was his usual derisive self. They had reached the dessert stage, and Jan was eating rum baba, soaked in spirit and topped with cream. 'Women were less important than cattle, and treated worse. Did you know that when a new odalisque was summoned to the sultan's bed, she had to enter it from the bottom and work her way up past the imperial feet... quite a feat, forgive the bad pun.'

  'No, I didn't know. You seem to be quite an authority on seraglios. Do you regret not possessing one yourself?'

  His face expressed sheer horror.

  'God forbid! Imagine having a dozen lovely ladies all clamouring for the honour of sharing one's bed.'

  'You'd be equal to it,' she retorted, 'and of course you'd select the one you liked best.'

  'Don't you believe it! There was protocol in the seraglio. The reigning favourite exerted considerable influence, even in politics, although she was never seen in public. No, Jan, a plethora of jealous women would not appeal to me, and besides ...' He gave her one of his wicked looks.

  'Besides what?' Jan asked innocently.

  'It isn't the most beautiful women who are best in bed.'

  Jan looked at her plate. 'You should know,' she said non-committally, wondering what had prompted that remark. Deciding the conversation had gone far enough upon that subject, she reverted to Turkey's role in the Great War and the rise of Mustapha Kemal.

  'A great soldier,' Alex commented, 'though he was a bitter enemy to Greece. Do you know what he considered to be the essential quality in his women, and he was no ascetic'

  She shook her head.

  'Availability,' Alex informed her drily.

  Jan hastily sought another topic. Where were these ambiguous remarks tending? Was he expecting her to become available in Renata's absence? Surely she had indicated plainly that she would never be that? Though he might charm and intrigue her she would never so forget herself. But, as she had told him, he puzzled her. If he really wanted her, there was nothing to stop him. She was wholly within his power and she feared he could soon break down her resistance if he tried. She was considerably more vulnerable than upon the night of her arrival, for her hate and loathing were fading away. But of course he did not. He was only amusing himself by teasing and baiting her until Renata arrived, and he liked to see her blush. That facility was becoming less frequent as she became accustomed to his innuendoes. But the amusement for that evening seemed to have palled, for after coffee he left her, saying he needed a good night's rest.

  The Artemis docked next morning below the Galata Bridge. Jan was up early on deck to watch their approach. A mist lay over the Bosphorus, out of which the domes and minarets of the mosques seemed to float in the sky. It was a city of magic.

  Over breakfast Alex told her he must leave her to go to his place of business to report on his deal.

  'You'll have to stay on board as you haven't a passport,' he told her. 'I hope your uncle remembers to bring it.' Then seeing the disappointment in her face, 'Oh well, perhaps I can wangle a landing card. The Turks are a bit lax, they probably won't even look at it, not like our neighbours on the Black Sea. Have you any money?'

  Jan shook her head. 'I didn't come prepared ...'

  'Naturally.' He threw a fat purse on the table. 'There's English and Turkish money in it. Don't get lost, and if you do get into any difficulty, take a taxi back to the yacht. There are plenty to be had. Mind you're back before dark.'

  She picked up the purse. 'Of course I'll repay ...'

  'Oh, of course, and maybe I shan't ask for cash.' Again the wicked gleam in his tawny eyes, but Jan did not rise, it was merely Alex's nonsense again. 'Be a good girl and keep with the tourists if you can,' he went on, 'and look out for pickpockets.
' He surveyed her critically. 'You won't appeal to the Turks, they like their women plump, in fact, fat, so I don't think you'll get abducted. Buy yourself a hat. I'll see the Captain about your card, get it from him.'

  He went striding away down the deck. A while later Jan saw him running lightly down the gangway on to the quay, dressed in his formal white suit with his briefcase under his arm. He did not look up, evidently he had completely dismissed her from his mind. Jan fingered the purse he had given her, marvelling at his changes of mood. He pretended to be so hard baked and indifferent to her feelings, taking every opportunity to taunt her, yet, knowing she was longing to go ashore and explore, he had made it possible, absorbed as he was in his own concerns. She thought regretfully how much she would have liked him to accompany her, but that was too much to expect—and then she chided herself fiercely. He was nothing to her at all, and she could enjoy herself much better freed from his teasing presence.

  Jan did spend a very enjoyable day, wandering round the old part of the town, 'doing' the mosques and the Topkapi Palace. She bought herself another of the white linen hats most of the tourists were wearing. Since she appeared modest and inconspicuous, no one attempted to accost her. She even ventured into a European-looking cafe for lunch, and resisted the temptation to buy souvenirs in the great glittering bazaar. The money in her handbag was not her own.

  Dutifully, as the sky began to blaze with the sunset, she returned to the ship, walking over the Galata Bridge, with the Golden Horn on its further side, as crowded with vehicles as the water below it was packed with craft. Lights were beginning to appear and the sky behind the minarets was red-gold, orange and mauve. There was no mist tonight.

  Alex returned for dinner and told her he had booked accommodation at the Hilton for her relatives, who would be arriving next day, flying from Ankara.

  'But you, Miss Janet Reynolds, must stay with my mother,' he concluded.

  'But why?' She did not at all want to lodge with a lady who, if she resembled her son, would be formidable. 'I'd much rather stay with my own people.'