The Velvet Glove

by Rebecca Stratton

  Refik Kayaman had referred to Nuri as being confused, and she had not followed his meaning, and now Halet was suggesting that there was something amiss with his behaviour too. 'Does anyone understand Nuri?' she asked, and Halet shrugged.

  'I have defied him over your right to wear whatever swim suit you care to, and he is even more angry with me now—I understand that.'

  'And I'm sorry about it, Halet. You got scolded for something you did for me.'

  Always anxious about any form of rebellion, Halet looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. 'I did deceive Baba about my true reason for going to the hospital, but I have now shown Nuri that I too can be a rebel sometimes!'

  'And now you're sorry?' Laurette pulled a face when Halet admitted it with a nod. 'I know the feeling, I get the same sense of remorse whenever I fight with Nuri. It's maddening, and it's even more maddening if he happens to be right!'

  'I thought I should tell you.'

  'In case he tackles me with it?' She hoped he was not going to, but she was already resigned to the fact that it was inevitable. Taking Halet's arm for mutual consolation, she laughed as they walked along the moonlit path. 'You won't know where you are after you're married, and you haven't got Nuri and me always around and fighting, will you, love? Just think how peaceful it will be!'

  It would also be very lonely for a while for Laurette, she realised, and Halet recognised it too. 'I shall miss you, my sister.'

  That gently possessive title was even more than usually touching suddenly, and Laurette squeezed her arm reassuringly. It seemed much longer than eight years since she and Halet had become foster-sisters and confidantes, and she was going to miss her terribly, she knew. 'I shall miss you too, Halet.' She was surprised to find how choked she felt when she went to speak. 'We've had some good times together, haven't we?' She looked around at the scented trees and the waxy white blossoms of magnolia that brushed her arm with their coolness when she walked by them. 'I shall miss Yarev too, I've been happy here.'

  'Oh, Laurette!'

  It was clear that they could not go on in this vein without both breaking down in tears, and Laurette, as ever the leader, shook her head suddenly and smiled, determinedly cheerful. 'This is supposed to be a party,' she reminded Halet. 'We shan't look as if we're enjoying it much if we start crying our eyes out!' Glancing back over her shoulder at the house, she smiled ruefully. 'Let's go back, and give Nuri the chance to scold me and get it over with before the party starts.'

  In fact she went back to the salon alone, for Hussein had arrived and met them in the garden, and with a tact that Nuri would probably have frowned on, Laurette left the two of them alone for a few moments. Hearing an arrival, Nuri was already on his feet and looked at her curiously when she came in.

  'I thought I heard someone arrive.'

  'You did, it was Hussein.' She knew he would question her being there in that case, but she had his disapproval of her and Halet still in mind and she perhaps sounded more defiant than she intended. 'I left them alone for a minute or two, it isn't often they have the opportunity for a bit of privacy, poor loves!'

  Nuri's black eyes regarded her for a second or two, and she wished, yet again, that she could discover what was going on behind that implacable mask. 'And you do not approve of that?' he suggested softly.

  She had meant to curl up on the ottoman, but somehow his standing there seemed to deter her, and instead she rested on one knee on the end of it and looked down at her hands as she turned the ring on her finger to catch the light.

  'I sympathise with people who are in love as much as Halet and Hussein are and can't have a few minutes alone together sometimes.'

  A hint of a smile touched Nuri's mouth, which she had to admit was unexpected, and he raised a brow. 'You understand the feelings of a lover so well?'

  She was blushing, she realised, and it made her touchily defensive. 'I try! It's no longer considered promiscuous to hold hands with your fiance, you know!'

  'That sounds very much like your cousin talking, Laurette.'

  'Well, at least Ian would understand my motives!'

  It was happening again, and when she least wanted it to. He had shown no sign of anger until she goaded him to it, and now his eyes glittered with it, black and jet-like in those dusky gold features, while his strong, lean body was held firm and straight as a lance.

  'I have little doubt that he knows you very well, kizum, since he has seen you almost naked!'

  The colour flooded into her face, and there was nothing she could do about it, but the tears that suddenly blurred her sight of him were unexpected and she brushed them away impatiently. 'I knew you'd bring that up as soon as you had the opportunity!' she said in a small and breathless-sounding voice. 'You just couldn't resist it, could you, Nuri?'

  His self-control, as always, stunned her, and even now when he was so obviously and violently angry, he managed somehow to control his voice until it was flat and harsh and quite unlike his normal tone. 'On the contrary,' he denied, 'I had not meant to say anything at all about it, and I despair of my weakness in allowing you to goad me!'

  There were more voices in the hall suddenly, but Laurette scarcely noticed them. She cared for nothing but the fact that Nuri was furious with her for provoking him. He would not even have mentioned the wretched bikini if she had not provoked him into losing his temper for that brief second. She could have cried in her despair, but it was no time to let herself indulge in such self-recrimination when there were guests in the hall.

  Guests or not, she couldn't face the whole evening knowing he was angry with her, and she made a tentative move towards appeasement. 'Nuri—'

  'We have guests waiting!'

  He turned swiftly and went striding away from her, then turned in the doorway and held it open for her. He would not give her the opportunity to say anything else, and it would be useless to try and persuade him now. She felt wretchedly unhappy, but she gave him one brief appealing glance then followed him across the room.

  Walking past him, she kept her head down and tried not to be affected by that disturbing aura about him, more powerful than ever, she felt, at the moment, while he was so angry. He closed the door carefully behind her, then stepped forward to shake hands with the husband and wife who had just arrived.

  Halet was with Hussein, alone in their own little world, despite the fact that there were other people around them, and Laurette felt suddenly and dismayingly alone. It was a feeling that Ian's arrival a few moments later did nothing to alleviate, although she felt somehow that it should have done.

  Ian and Refik Kayaman had conversed quite a lot during dinner, and had apparently got on quite well together, but not once had Laurette seen him and Nuri speak to one another once they had exchanged formal greetings. Dinner over, she had come out into the garden with Ian, although they had said very little to one another so far.

  A few steps along the path took them out of sight of the house where they were screened by a huge tamarisk that was sketched like a cluster of ostrich plumes against a moon-bright sky, and bringing them to a halt, Ian turned her to face him, looking down at her for a moment or two before he said anything.

  'You aren't enjoying this party much, are you, love?'

  It would be pointless to deny it, for her whole attitude gave away her mood, and she was in no mind to deceive him. Deception, however mild, had already caused her enough upset for one evening, and she shook her head.

  'Oh, it isn't your fault,' she hastened to assure him when he raised a brow. 'I—' She shrugged resignedly when she was plagued once more by the stinging threat of tears. 'I had a row with Nuri just before the party started—it wasn't a very good start to the evening.'

  'About me?'

  She thought he sounded almost as if he hoped it had been about him and she shook her head firmly. 'No, about that wretched bikini!'

  'Oh, for Pete's sake, Laurette!'

  She smiled ruefully and caught at an azalea flower as she walked on a little way, t
wirling the blossom between her fingers. She did not look at him when he followed her but watched their shadows on the dappled path between the shrubs. Arguing with him was the last thing she wanted, and yet she saw little option if she stayed out here alone with him.

  'It's a stupid thing to quarrel about, isn't it?'

  'No, it isn't!' He brought her to a standstill, making sure she did not escape him this time by holding her hands firmly in his, his blue eyes glinting with determination. 'For God's sake, Laurette, tell him to go to hell and come home with me!'

  'No!'

  He held her firm against the sudden impulsive effort she made to free herself, and his mouth had a straight hard look that in some curious way reminded her of Nuri.'Why not?'

  She couldn't have explained, even had she wanted to, for her mood was unfamiliar, disturbing in some way she could not explain. All she was sure of was that she did not want to leave Yarev. Ian's fingers gripped her hard and he shook her lightly until she looked at him, her blue eyes big and almost fearful in the moonlight.

  'Come with me, love. We could have a marvelous time together, I promise you.' Seeing that was not going to persuade her, he tacked off in another direction.

  'You can't stay here, not while that devil keeps track of you like a—'

  'No, Ian!'

  Her heart was thudding hard and she felt oddly breathless suddenly as if she had run so hard and so long she had no strength left, and she was sure—all at once, she was sure why she did not want to go with Ian or anyone else who wanted to take her away from Yarev.

  'I—I can't go away with you, Ian. Please don't make it difficult for me by insisting.'

  'You're scared?' She shook her head slowly, still too dazed for the moment to realise how she was giving herself away, and Ian looked at her for a second with narrowed eyes, scanning her face with dawning realisation. 'Oh, ye gods and little fishes,' he breathed after a moment or two. 'So that's it!'

  It seemed so quiet now that everyone had gone, and Laurette felt so bewildered by her own emotions that she could not even think of going to bed and sleeping. She was certain she would not sleep anyway, she had never felt more awake in her life, nor more confused.

  Ian had been quick to recognise how she really felt about Nuri, but she prayed Nuri himself would not be so astute. It was quite possible that he found her attractive, his manner towards her once or twice lately suggested it, but he surely could not love her as she did him, and still be so critical of everything she did.

  The rest of the evening had passed without her being aware of what was said or what was going on, she was only aware of Nuri's tall straight figure always somewhere in view it seemed, and always drawing her eyes irresistibly. He was with his father in the salon at the moment, and she hesitated to interrupt them to say goodnight, because they had seemed to be very serious about something when they went in there.

  Halet had gone to bed a little while ago, leaving her in the garden alone, and she supposed she could quite easily go upstairs without saying anything to the two men. But old habits die hard, and she had never yet gone to bed without saying goodnight to her foster-father, she found it impossible to do so now. A brief glance round the edge of the salon door would suffice.

  Crossing the hall, on tiptoe almost because the house was so silent, she tapped lightly on the salon door and opened it just a crack, a space big enough to put her head round. Nuri sat in one of the armchairs and he first looked up, sharply, as if he had been surprised, and then as hastily down at the floor between his feet.

  Refik Kayaman occupied one end of the ottoman and he smiled, and waved her into the room, his voice soft and encouraging. 'Come in, bebek, lütfen!' Rather hesitantly she crossed the room, carefully avoiding a direct glance in Nuri's direction, and sat beside her foster-father on the ottoman, and the old man took her hands in his, his dark eyes looking at her for a moment musingly before he spoke.

  'I—I came to say goodnight, Baba Refik—I didn't want to interrupt you.'

  'There is little more to be discussed until I have spoken to you, little one.'

  'Me?' Instinctively she glanced at Nuri, and found him watching her with a steady gaze that made her shiver involuntarily.

  'I have met your cousin.5 The old man was choosing his words carefully, and that somehow gave her a clue to the gist of them. 'He is very like my old friend, is he not?'

  'Very much so, Baba.'

  The dark eyes judged her reaction shrewdly. 'But you would not wish to marry him, I think, eh, bebek?'

  'Oh no, Baba Refik, I've already told—' She caught Nuri's look from the corner of her eye and cut herself short hastily. 'No, I don't want to marry Ian, Baba Refik. For one thing because I haven't known him long enough—that's partly why I won't go home with him as he wants me to.'

  'He has asked you to go with him?'

  Refik Kayaman signalled his son to silence, but Nuri's black eyes still watched her and they glittered in the yellow lamplight as if he would like to have said a great deal more. 'I was not aware of this,' Refik Kayaman said, gently reproachful. 'You should have consulted me, bebek, it is not the kind of decision that you could have made on your own.'

  'But I did,' Laurette told him, stating a simple fact. 'I told him I wouldn't go.'

  'For that I am thankful.' The old man's hands held her gently and a slight pressure on her fingers made her look up at him. 'Are you still so firmly set against marriage, Laurette?'

  Almost dizzy with surprise, she once more automatically and instinctively sought Nuri's eyes, then hastily lowered her own because she saw something there that disturbed her. Her heart was hammering so hard in her breast that she could scarcely breathe, and her mouth felt strangely dry so that she flicked her tongue across her parted lips before she answered him.

  'It—it depends. I don't believe—I mean, I wouldn't just marry someone you—who was chosen for me.' She looked at the old man anxiously, still far too uncertain of what was happening. 'I couldn't let even you choose my husband for me, Baba, I just couldn't!'

  'You disappoint me, little one.'

  There was a smile on his lips, but a glimpse of anxiety in his eyes as he studied her was unexpected, and she watched him as he looked across at his son. 'It—it would very much depend on who it was you chose for me, Baba.'

  The old man held her hands tightly, his face as benign as a bronze god in the lamplight. 'Would you consider my only son, my child?'

  'Nuri!' She felt the colour that flooded into her cheeks and suddenly she felt like laughing and crying all at the same time as she clung tightly to the old man's hands. To Nuri himself she gave only a brief but telling look, that noticed the warmth in his black eyes and the smile that curved his wide straight mouth suddenly. 'Oh, yes, Baba, I'd marry Nuri—if he wants me to!'

  From the armchair, Nuri's deep, quiet voice assured her. 'I have waited a very long time for you, my love, now I think I must wait no longer.'

  'You should not be here!' his father told him with mock severity. 'In this instance I am the father of both the man and the woman, and it is a confusing role.'

  'Oh yes, he should!' Laurette insisted, her voice soft and slightly breathless. 'You've observed your customs, Baba Refik, and I'd like to observe mine.' She did not look at Nuri while she said it, but at his father, a look of unmistakable appeal that was irresistible. 'Will you let Nuri ask me himself, Baba, just as he would if we were in England? It's—it's a custom I like, and it isn't as if Nuri and I have never been alone together.'

  For a moment the old man looked at his son, then shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled as he got to his feet. 'It shall be so,' he agreed. 'I cannot deny you the right to your customs.'

  'Thank you, Baba!' Impulsively she got to her feet and hugged the old man, planting a kiss on his cheek. 'You've always spoiled me, Nuri's often said so.'

  'And now he will do so himself.' Refik Kayaman shook his head when she attempted to deny it. 'It will be so, now that he is sure of you, bebek, he need no longer
fear that you will go away or that someone will come and take you away.'

  He kissed her gently beside her mouth and gave a last look at Nuri, as if to warn him, then left them alone.

  The silence in the softly lit salon after the door closed was almost tangible, and it was a second or two before Laurette felt the firm touch of strong hands on her arms turning her slowly round.

  Nuri's black eyes looked down at her for a moment, deep and glowing as she had never seen them before, then he drew her close, pulling her into his arms, his face resting on the bright copper-red of her hair. Unsure at first, she laid her head on his chest, then slid her hands round behind him, across that broad back, until she pressed closer still and her whole being responded to the exciting nearness of him.

  His mouth brushed her neck, lightly, like a promise, as he had done once before, only this time the promise was fulfilled. She lifted her face to him and his mouth covered hers, hard and fierce, yet strangely gentle too, while his hands moulded the softness of her to his own steely length. Brushing back the silky copper hair, he kissed her neck and the long fringe of lashes on her cheeks.

  Looking up at last, Laurette studied the face that was at once so familiar and so new to her. Strong and dark, autocratic perhaps, but capable of gentleness, like the big hands that cradled her small flushed face between their warm palms.

  'Have you really waited so long, Nuri?'

  Her voice was light, breathless and barely audible, and Nuri looked at her steadily for a moment with those unfathomable black eyes. 'Since before you came back from school in Europe. Does that surprise you?' he challenged swiftly, when she looked startled. 'You were almost as lovely at sixteen and seventeen as you are now, my love, and I was man enough already to recognise it.'

  'And yet you treated me as if you thought I was the most awful brat! You don't know how I hated you sometimes. No,' she hastily amended something that she only now realised was not true, and never had been, 'I never hated you, however mean you were to me.'