Istanbul Affair Page 4

  The lift doors slid open and they walked out into the corridor.

  'To someone who knows both of you, it's easy to tell you apart,' agreed Benedict. 'I'd certainly never mistake you for Angeline. Quite apart from the basic differences, like the colour of your eyes and the sound of your voice, you're quite different in character. Angeline's far more sweet-natured—'

  At that, Amy couldn't suppress a great snort of laughter. 'Sweet-natured? Angeline?'

  'I know that you like to run down your cousin at every opportunity,' said Benedict in a rather contemptuous tone. 'But for the next couple of days, you might as well hold your breath. I'm not interested in hearing all the unpleasant things you like to say about her.'

  'Are you in for a surprise when you get to know Angeline rather better,' Amy murmured under her breath. She got the message, though. As far as Benedict Kane was concerned, Angeline could do no wrong. Heaven knew how her cousin had managed to keep up such an angelic image while she was with him, but she had certainly managed to fool him. Amy found she had a new respect for her cousin, because she was certain that there were very few people in this world who had managed to fool Mr Kane.

  He had come to a halt outside one of the doors now. He produced a key from his pocket, unlocked it, and walked inside.

  Amy followed him in. 'Is this your room, or mine?' she asked. She hoped it was hers. She was tired and sweaty after the long journey. What she wanted right now was a hot shower and a change of clothes before dinner.

  Benedict dumped his bag on the floor. 'It's our room,' he informed her calmly.

  She stared at him warily. 'Just what do you mean by that?' she asked at last.

  'I'd have thought it was self-explanatory.'

  Unfortunately, it was. But she definitely didn't like the explanation!

  'If you think for one moment that I'm sharing this room with you—' she began, her green eyes starting to glow very brightly.

  'I hope that you're not going to be childish about this.'

  'I don't think it's particularly childish not to want to sleep with someone you scarcely know and certainly don't like!' Amy retorted.

  His dark eyebrow shot upwards. 'I'm certainly not asking you to sleep with me. I'm not interested in laying a single finger on you. But I do intend that we should share this room.'

  'Well, I don't really care what you intend!' She picked up her bag and began to head towards the door. 'I'm going down to reception to book a separate room.'

  He reached the door before her, moving so swiftly that all she saw was a blur of movement. With one sweep of his hand, he slammed it shut. Then he locked it and slid the key into his pocket.

  For the first time, Amy began to feel afraid. Despite the amount of time they had spent together, she still knew very little about this man. She didn't know what he was capable of—what he might do, if he were thwarted over something.

  'Look,' she said in a more placatory tone, hoping he couldn't hear just how very nervous she suddenly felt, 'perhaps we can talk this over.'

  'That sounds like a sensible idea,' he agreed. His voice sounded relaxed, but his body was visibly tense, and there was a light in his eyes that she definitely didn't like.

  'Er—could you unlock the door first? I think we could have a much more productive discussion if I didn't feel so—so—'

  'Trapped?' he suggested softly.

  That hadn't been the word she had been about to use. It made it sound as if he had the absolute upper hand, with all the advantages on his side.

  'It makes me feel slightly claustrophobic, that's all,' she lied, hoping that those dark, clever eyes of his weren't seeing too far into her head and guessing the truth.

  He took the key from his pocket and tossed it gently into the air a couple of times, playing with it—in the same way that he was playing with her.

  'I'll open the door when this discussion is over,' he told her at last. 'I don't want you running out on me halfway through.'

  'I won't do that. I promise.'

  'But for all I know, your promises might be worth absolutely nothing.'

  Amy opened her mouth, ready to argue vehemently with him, but then shut it again. This was getting her nowhere. It certainly wasn't getting her out of this room and away from Benedict Kane! The only way she was going to do that was by going along with this for now, and then making a dash for freedom at the very first opportunity that she got.

  'All right,' she said, in what she hoped was a calm voice. 'What do you want to talk about?'

  'The reason why I'm going to share this room with you.'

  'We are not—' she began sharply. Then she stopped and made an effort to get her temper back under control. Shouting at him was going to achieve absolutely nothing. 'I'd have thought that you could understand perfectly well why I don't want to share a room with you,' she went on, in a much more reasonable tone of voice.

  'Of course I understand,' he agreed calmly. But before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he added, 'But I still intend to stay here for the next day or two.'

  'Why?' she demanded.

  'Because I think that you'll soon be getting a phone-call concerning Angeline. And I want to be around when that call comes.'

  Amy stared at him. 'You're still going along with that ridiculous idea of a kidnapping, aren't you? You think we're going to get some kind of ransom demand.'

  'I think it's very likely,' he agreed.

  She gave a heavy sigh. 'You're crazy. But I can't stop you believing all these wild ideas. I don't see why we have to share a room, though. Even if you're right—and I don't for one moment think you are— then I'll be here to answer the phone. I can tell you what they say.'

  'You might decide not to tell me anything at all,' he pointed out.

  Amy blinked. 'You think that I'd keep something like that from you? Is that why you're doing this? You don't trust me?'

  'No, I don't,' Benedict replied in an unruffled voice, ignoring her growing indignation. 'As far as I can see, you've got a very odd relationship with your cousin. When she writes you a frantic letter asking for help, you don't take it at all seriously. In fact, if I hadn't been around, you might even have ignored it.'

  'I wouldn't have done that!' she cut in angrily.

  He took no notice. 'It looks as if you're going to have to be pushed into helping Angeline every step of the way. It also looks as if I'm the only one who cares enough to do that pushing.'

  Amy gave him a fierce glare. 'Do you really think you're the only one who cares about what happens to Angeline?'

  'It certainly seems that way to me.'

  'Well, you're wrong! There might have been times when I didn't get along too well with my cousin, but I certainly don't want anything to happen to her. And I'll do whatever I can to help her if she's in serious trouble.'

  'You've said that before,' Benedict replied, not looking in the least impressed by her outburst. 'But so far, you've done remarkably little to prove that you mean what you say.'

  'I'm here in Istanbul, aren't I?'

  'Because I virtually dragged you here.'

  'Even if I'd never set eyes on you—and heaven knows, I wish that I hadn't!—I'd still have come,' Amy flung at him vehemently.

  He looked completely unconvinced, which infuriated her even further.

  'All right,' she yelled at him in a sudden burst of frustration, 'I'll do whatever I have to do to make you believe that I really want to help Angeline. I'll even sit by that phone for twenty-four hours a day, waiting for this ransom demand that you think's going to come. And if you want to sit right beside me, then that's fine. It'll be a complete waste of time, but it's obviously quite useless trying to convince you of that.'

  As soon as she had said it, she wished that she had kept her mouth shut. She certainly didn't want to be stuck in the same room with him for the next couple of days. She had rashly agreed to do just that, though, and she didn't quite see how she could get out of it. If she tried to tell him that she had changed her mind, he would
simply accuse her all over again of not caring what happened to Angeline. And she was getting very tired of hearing that accusation.

  Amy opened her case and muttered balefully under her breath as she shovelled her clothes into drawers and cupboards. She pointedly ignored Benedict's own bag, which still stood by the door. He needn't think that she was going to do his unpacking as well!

  'You can unlock the door now,' she informed him, with a bad-tempered scowl.

  He fingered the key thoughtfully. 'You're not going to run away?'

  'From what?' she said scornfully. 'You? I'm not afraid of you, you know. It's just that you're about the last person on earth I want to share a room with.'

  'The feeling's mutual,' Benedict said coolly. 'You've a lot of traits that I find extremely unattractive. By choice, I'd sooner not spend any time with you at all.'

  The man certainly knew how to be totally insulting. Amy shot a malevolent look at him, and then deliberately turned her back on him.

  The next couple of days promised to be just about the most unpleasant that she had ever spent.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Benedict unlocked the door, and left the key in the lock, which made Amy feel very slightly safer. At least she could make a run for it if anything happened that she didn't like.

  Not that she was expecting any real problems concerning Benedict's behaviour towards her. He had made it very clear that he wasn't interested in her in any way. He only needed her around because she was his one link with Angeline.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and watched him as he unpacked. His movements were deft and neat, as if he were used to looking after himself and had done this kind of thing dozens of times before. She found herself wondering about his personal life. There didn't seem to be any wife in the background, and from something he had said earlier, she had the feeling that there hadn't been too many long-term relationships, either. That was odd for a man who had to be in his early thirties.

  Amy's gaze slid over him, taking in small details that she had missed before. The stern line of his mouth, as if he rarely found life amusing; the thickness of the black lashes that fringed his dark eyes; the uncompromising expression on the strong lines of his face; and the powerful, supple body that she somehow found rather intimidating.

  He suddenly glanced up at her and she instantly felt herself going bright red. Furious at being caught studying him so intently, she got quickly to her feet and walked over to the window.

  'Are we going down to dinner soon?' she asked abruptly. 'I'm starving.'

  'I'm going to ring down and ask for dinner to be sent up to our room. That way, we won't miss any phone-call that might come.'

  Amy stared at him incredulously. 'Do you mean that we've got to spend every minute of our stay in Istanbul right here, in this room?'

  'That seems the best way of making sure that we get any message that Angeline tries to send.'

  'You can simply ask to be paged,' she said a little impatiently.

  'They might forget. Or not bother. I don't want to risk that.'

  'And I don't want to spend the next couple of days sitting here staring at you!' she retorted.

  Benedict shrugged. 'Then read a book. Or watch television.'

  'The programmes will all be in Turkish!'

  He gave an uninterested shrug, as if to say that that wasn't his problem. 'I'm going to take a shower,' he said, and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

  Amy gave a frustrated sigh, and stared out of the window. The sun was sinking fast now, leaving a golden-red glow in the sky. The dying rays of the sun glinted on the waters of the Golden Horn, the elegant minarets of the mosques etched their thin black shadows against the brilliant colours of the sunset, and lights began to shine softly from the buildings all around.

  The streets were still packed and noisy. Istanbul seemed to be a city that was constantly on the move. People going to and from work, tourists tramping round the mosques and palaces and bazaars, late shoppers browsing around for bargains; Amy looked down at them enviously. She wished she could be down in the crowded streets with them. Anywhere, in fact, except stuck here in this hotel-room with Benedict Kane.

  He came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, his hair looking almost black now that it was wet and slicked back. He was wearing clean jeans and a shirt, but despite his casual clothes, there wasn't anything informal about his manner.

  He went over to the phone and picked it up. Then he looked at her. 'What do you want to eat?'

  A few minutes ago, she had been starving. Quite suddenly, though, her appetite had vanished and she felt as if it would take a major effort to swallow even a few mouthfuls of food.

  'Oh—I'll have some fish,' she said, although without any trace of enthusiasm. At least a light meal shouldn't cause the tense muscles of her stomach too many problems. 'I'll take a shower while we're waiting for it to be sent up.'

  She grabbed a towel and a handful of clean clothes, then scurried into the bathroom. She didn't know why she suddenly wanted to get away from Benedict. She only knew that there were times when her nervous system went into overdrive when he was around—and this was one of them!

  Once the bathroom door was closed behind her, she felt slightly better. She stripped off, twisted the pale blonde strands of her hair into a knot on top of her head, and then stepped under the shower.

  The water came out in a tepid trickle, and she had to stand under it for ages before she felt properly clean. She didn't mind, though. It meant that she could postpone the moment when she would have to go back into the other room and face Benedict again.

  You don't have to do any of this, she reminded herself, as she rubbed herself dry. You can go down to Reception and demand another room. You can even catch the next flight back to England if you want to.

  Then she gave a resigned sigh. She couldn't actually do either of those things. Not until this mystery concerning Angeline had finally been cleared up.

  She wriggled into a pair of clean jeans, pulled on a T-shirt, and released her hair from its knot, shaking her head so that the silky golden strands cascaded back down to her shoulders. Then she stared at herself in the mirror.

  Her green eyes gazed warily back at her. She looked defensive and on edge, and she didn't like that. With an effort, she fixed her mouth into a confident smile. Then she walked purposefully back into the other room.

  She discovered that their dinner had just arrived. Benedict was removing the covers from the plates, and setting them out on a small table.

  'Are you ready to eat?' he asked, glancing up at her as she came in.

  Amy nodded, and sat down. She began to pick at her fish, which was served with lemon and parsley, and a fresh salad. Benedict was eating lamb mixed with a variety of vegetables. There were bowls of fresh fruit salad for dessert.

  Her appetite slowly returned, and she managed to eat everything that was in front of her. They finished the meal with cups of sweet, strong coffee, then piled the empty plates back on to the trolley which Amy pushed outside the door, to be collected later by room-service.

  Neither of them had said a word all through the meal. Amy had expected the prolonged silence to become thoroughly uncomfortable, but to her surprise that hadn't happened.

  When she went back into the room, she found that Benedict had walked over to the window and was now staring out. He looked as if he was entirely wrapped up in his own thoughts. Amy had the distinct feeling that, for the moment at least, he had forgotten that she was even there.

  He was probably thinking of Angeline, she told herself, with a wrinkling of her nose. Her cousin must have pulled out all the stops to get a man like Benedict Kane into such an emotional twist! For just an instant, Amy felt unexpectedly jealous. She doubted if she was ever going to have that sort of effect on a man. She sometimes felt that she was just a paler version of Angeline—less glitz and glamour, less sex-appeal, less of everything that it took to make a man forget about everything except the existence of one par
ticular woman.

  Amy found herself surprised—and rather disturbed—by the way her thoughts were running. Had Benedict been right all along? she wondered with a darkening frown. Was she jealous of her cousin?

  No, she certainly wasn't, she tried to convince herself. Then she looked at Benedict again. From the closed, withdrawn expression on his face, she could tell that he was still quite oblivious to her presence. With a small jolt of shock, she realised that she didn't like that.

  Don't be stupid, she told herself uneasily. It's to your advantage that he's completely indifferent towards you. You don't want him breathing down your neck all the time, do you? Pawing you? Trying to jump on you in the middle of the night?

  She stared at the familiar outline of his face; the dark glow of his eyes. Her nerve-ends gave a small jump, her heart thumped hard and painfully, and then she shivered. Quickly, Amy turned away. What on earth was happening to her? she wondered with a touch of panic. She felt really odd. As if something inside of her had suddenly changed.

  Benedict's voice broke into her confused thoughts, making her jump. 'It's been a long day,' he said crisply. 'Perhaps we ought to try and get some sleep.'

  'That—that sounds like a good idea,' Amy got out in a voice that didn't sound at all like her own. 'I'll— I'll get undressed first, if you like.'

  She rummaged around in the drawer for her night things. Then, for the second time that day, she fled into the safety of the bathroom.

  She closed the door behind her, locked it, and then slumped against it for a minute, breathing unevenly. Then she walked over to the mirror and took another look at her reflection.

  She was alarmed to find that she didn't look like the same girl who had stared at herself earlier. There were bright red patches of colour on her cheeks, an almost feverish brightness to her eyes, and her lips looked rather red and full, as if she had been biting them.

  Amy ran an unsteady hand through the pale gold silk of her hair. 'What on earth's wrong with me?' she muttered in bewilderment. 'Some kind of illness? But I don't feel sick—just very odd! Anyway, I haven't been here long enough to pick up some local virus.'