Istanbul Affair Page 8

  'Because I thought you might not go through with it,' he said abruptly. 'Or that you might crack up. I thought that I needed to be around to hold things together, and force you to do what was best for Angeline.'

  Amy looked at him rather curiously. 'But you don't think that way any more?' she said at last.

  'You're a lot more capable than I expected. And I'm beginning to think that you do have some feelings for your cousin,' he admitted.

  'Then why don't you go home, and let me carry on with this by myself?' she said promptly.

  'It's too late for that,' said Benedict. 'The kidnappers will only get suspicious if I suddenly leave. The two of us are going to have to see this through to the very end.'

  An odd mixture of disappointment and relief rushed through Amy. Disappointment that there wasn't going to be a quick end to this nightmarish situation. Relief that Benedict Kane would be around for at least a few more days.

  In fact, he would be around until Angeline was finally freed. Then he would be gone, and she would probably never see him again.

  Amy was absolutely horrified to find that a small part of her wished that Angeline could stay a captive for ever.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Amy was totally shocked to discover that her feelings for Benedict were so twisted. For a few moments, she had actually wanted her cousin to stay a prisoner so that she could spend more time with him. That was really sick!

  It was a long while before she began to remember everything else that had been said this afternoon. Finally, though, she raised her head and shot a black look at Benedict.

  'I don't see why I had to tell that man you were my fiancé,' she said edgily. 'Why couldn't I simply have said you were a friend?'

  'Because that would have sounded much more suspicious. Being your fiancé gives me a legitimate excuse for being here, especially if he thinks I'm the possessive and jealous type, who can't stand the thought of you going anywhere on your own.'

  Amy gazed at him warily. 'And what's going to make him think you're that type of man?'

  Benedict looked back at her. 'We know that we're being watched. We're going to have to make very sure that whoever's watching us gets exactly that impression.'

  Her eyes narrowed. 'I don't think I like the sound of that.'

  'I don't really care what you like or don't like,' he replied rather tersely. 'As far as I'm concerned, we'll both do whatever has to be done to ensure Angeline's safety. Or was I wrong when I said that part of you really did care what happened to your cousin?'

  'No, you weren't wrong,' Amy muttered. At the same time, she remembered the promise she had made to herself just a short while ago. She had vowed that she would do whatever she could to help Angeline. It was just that she hadn't expected that that would include pretending to be Benedict's fiancée! She wasn't at all sure that her frayed nerves were up to that sort of pretence.

  'Since they're checking up on us, they probably already know that we're sharing a hotel-room,' went on Benedict. 'That's good, because it adds extra credence to our story.'

  'I'm not wearing a ring,' Amy pointed out. 'If they have been watching us, then they must have noticed that.'

  'It doesn't really matter. Not all engaged couples bother with a ring, especially if the relationship has already become fairly intimate.'

  Amy's throat went uncomfortably dry. 'Intimate?' she repeated cautiously. She didn't even like saying the word. It seemed to imply—oh, she didn't really know what it implied. She just knew that it made her feel very funny inside.

  Benedict gave a half-smile. 'There's no need to look so nervous. We only have to keep up any kind of pretence when we're out together in public. Here, in this hotel-room, we can just be ourselves.'

  That was a lot easier than it sounded, though. Amy was beginning to wonder if she even knew who she really was any more. Certainly not the same girl who had boarded the plane for Istanbul. And she didn't recognise the new, mixed-up and very vulnerable person who had taken her place.

  'Why don't you shower and change?' suggested Benedict. 'Then we can go down for dinner.'

  'You keep taking everything so calmly,' she said, almost accusingly.

  'What's the alternative? It isn't going to help Angeline if we start running around, shouting and panicking.'

  'And that's why we're here, isn't it?' she said in a suddenly flat voice. 'To help Angeline. There's no other reason for our being here and doing all of this.'

  Benedict shot her a sharp glance, as if he had picked up something from her tone that she hadn't intended to be there.

  'Yes,' he said at last, looking at her again through narrowing eyes, 'that's why we're here.'

  Amy always became very nervous when that dark gaze drilled into her so intently. She was never sure exactly what he was seeing.

  'I think I'll take my shower now,' she blurted out, and scurried into the bathroom.

  She hurriedly closed the door behind her, slumped against it and then gave a resigned sigh. She seemed to have spent a lot of the last twenty-four hours locked in this bathroom!

  Half an hour later, she had got herself back under some kind of control, and was ready to go down to dinner. Despite everything that had happened, Amy found that she was very hungry. They lingered over their meal for a long time, and she had the impression that Benedict was as reluctant to return to their room as she was.

  It was quite late in the evening by the time they finally went back upstairs. The city outside still hummed with noise and movement, but Amy didn't feel part of it in any way. This wasn't a holiday and she wasn't enjoying her stay here. In fact, it was turning out to be just about the most fraught experience of her life!

  She went back into the bathroom, cleaned her teeth, wriggled into her baggy nightshirt, and told herself that there wouldn't be any problem getting through the night ahead. She had managed last night without any major catastrophes, hadn't she? Of course, she hadn't slept very much, but she hadn't expected to. She was beginning to wonder if she were ever going to sleep soundly and dreamlessly again!

  She returned to the bedroom, hopped straight into bed and pulled the sheet right up to her chin. Benedict was standing with his back to her, looking out of the window. She had the feeling that he had forgotten she was even there, and was sure that he was thinking of Angeline.

  'Aren't you going to sleep?' she asked in a rather small voice. It made her feel uncomfortably edgy to see him standing there—tall, powerful in a way that was somehow wholly masculine, and with his thoughts so obviously preoccupied with someone else.

  Without saying a word, he left the window and stretched out on the bed, still fully dressed. He clearly didn't intend to sleep—perhaps couldn't sleep. Amy closed her own eyes and prepared herself for a very long night.

  Half an hour later, although she hadn't expected to, she suddenly fell into a deep sleep. For a couple of hours she slept soundly, but then she began to have a strange, frightening dream. She was in danger, although she didn't know why or from whom. Someone—or something—was chasing her. She kept running but it got closer and closer, and she knew it was going to hurt her when it caught her.

  Then it leaped at her—a dark shadow with blazing eyes—and she gave such a loud yell of fear that she woke herself up.

  The first thing she saw was the dark shadow, and she shrank back and started to yell again.

  A hand clamped itself firmly over her mouth and the shadow spoke to her in a very familiar voice.

  'Stop shouting so loudly. Half the hotel staff will be rushing in here in a minute, to see what's going on.'

  Amy immediately began to feel extremely embarrassed. 'Sorry,' she mumbled, as the pressure of Benedict's fingers on her mouth lifted. 'I had a bad dream.'

  'Do you often have nightmares?'

  'Hardly ever.' She couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness, but she was very much aware that he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, which made her nerves feel extremely twitchy. 'I'm all right now,' she said quickly. '
You can go back to sleep.'

  Benedict didn't move, though. 'What was the nightmare about?'

  'I can't remember it very clearly. Something was chasing me. Something dark and dangerous.'

  'Mmm,' he said thoughtfully.

  Amy didn't like that non-committal response. 'It doesn't really matter what the dream was about,' she said a little irritably. 'Anyway, it's over now. I'm going to try and get some more sleep—if you'll stop talking!'

  To her relief, he got the message. He got up and went back to his own bed, and she closed her eyes with some determination. It was over an hour before she drifted back to sleep, though, and she soon started to dream again. There were no more nightmares, but the dreams were disturbing enough to make her toss restlessly. When she finally woke up again, she felt heavy-eyed and listless, as if she hadn't slept at all.

  The sun was shining again, with a bright cheerfulness that really grated on her nerves. She would have preferred a dark, overcast day, to match her mood.

  Benedict must have woken up earlier than she had, because he had already showered and dressed. Amy crawled under the shower, washed and dried herself, pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton blouse, and unenthusiastically dragged a comb through the pale blonde tangle of her hair. When she went back out to the bedroom, Benedict was waiting for her.

  'Ready for breakfast?' he asked.

  'I suppose so.'

  His dark gaze fixed on her drawn face. 'What's the matter with you this morning? Or are you feeling bad because of that nightmare you had last night?'

  'The dream wasn't important,' she insisted. 'I'm just a bit tired, that's all. And I wish that there was something we could do instead of hanging around like this, waiting for phone-calls that never seem to get us any further. When are they going to tell us what we've got to do to get Angeline back again?'

  'First of all, they want to make sure that we can be trusted, and that we haven't been to the authorities,' Benedict reminded her. His own mouth was set in a hard line now. 'I don't like this situation any better than you do, but there's virtually nothing we can do about it. We just have to wait until they make their demands.'

  'I hate this,' she muttered. Her green eyes flashed. 'And what are we going to do today? Pretend to be tourists again? Walk round looking at the sights, and knowing all the time that we're being watched by the men who've kidnapped Angeline?'

  'That's exactly what we're going to do,' Benedict said in a flat tone. 'We obey their instructions to the letter. And we don't do a single thing that will put Angeline in any kind of jeopardy. Now, you'd better come down with me and have something to eat. It's going to be another very long day.'

  Amy dearly wished she could tell him that she wasn't going anywhere with him. That wasn't going to help Angeline, though. With a small sigh, she picked up her bag and followed him down to the dining-room.

  After they had eaten breakfast, they headed back out into the hot, crowded streets of Istanbul. Amy glanced around nervously.

  'Do you suppose they're watching us already?' she muttered to Benedict.

  'It's very possible,' he replied. 'So perhaps this would be a good time for you to start acting like my fiancée.'

  Amy's green eyes opened wider in alarm. 'What do you mean?'

  One of his dark eyebrows gently rose. 'I'm not suggesting anything too improper,' he said drily. 'For now, it should be enough to walk along holding hands.'

  Amy's palm immediately began to sweat. Surreptitiously, she rubbed it against her trouser leg.

  'We didn't hold hands yesterday,' she said edgily.

  'No, we didn't,' Benedict agreed. 'Which makes it even more important that we put on a good show today. If we don't touch or look reasonably close to each other, then they're going to get very suspicious. And that's the very last thing that we want to happen.'

  Amy's heart had begun to pound in an uncomfortably erratic rhythm. She hadn't been expecting anything quite like this. In fact, she had almost forgotten that she had told the man on the phone that Benedict was her fiancé.

  'I really don't think this is necessary—' she began, but then she broke off and gave a huge gulp because Benedict had ignored her protest and slid his hand around hers.

  His grip was firm, and his fingers warm and dry. Amy didn't say anything more after that for a long time, because she couldn't. It seemed to be hard even to breathe.

  It's ridiculous to feel this way about someone that you don't even know very well, she told herself over and over. Someone who belongs to your cousin, Angeline; who'll go straight back to her as soon as she's free.

  They walked on through the streets of Istanbul, and it was alarming how soon she got used to the feel of his hand lightly wrapped around her own. She didn't notice the crowds, the noise, the heat.

  Very, very slowly, she came to her senses. This was all make-believe, she reminded herself for the dozenth time, trying to impress that fact on her muddled mind. You'd better remember that, or you're going to end up in serious trouble.

  'Where are we going?' she eventually asked Benedict, making an enormous effort to keep her voice light and normal.

  'The church of Haghia Sophia,' he replied. 'And if you're not tired of churches, we'll go on to the Blue Mosque afterwards. It's only a short distance away.'

  Amy could already see their minarets rising high up into the sky. Soon the great church of Haghia Sophia was looming up in front of them, with its pale yellow walls and great central dome.

  Once they were inside, Benedict let go of her hand, and Amy was alarmed at the disappointment that immediately shot through her. He began to point out the mosaics over the doorways and she looked at them dutifully, although without really seeing them. Then they went on into the central part of the church, and this time she really did catch her breath.

  There were rows of great colonnaded arches, and windows which allowed the sun to flood in and illuminate the mosaics. Above all, though, there was the great dome, which seemed to float in the air high above them.

  'Very impressive,' Benedict said softly.

  'How high is it?' she asked.

  He fished the guide-book out of his pocket. 'A hundred and eighty feet. It's also fallen down several times,' he added.

  Amy grimaced. 'You might have waited until we were out of here before you told me that!'

  'Don't worry,' he said comfortably, 'it's a few hundred years since it last collapsed.'

  They walked slowly around the vast interior of the church, and Benedict finally stopped by a column near the entrance. There was a metal cover around the base of the column, with a small hole just big enough to poke a finger through.

  'Try touching the column,' he invited.

  'Why?' asked Amy suspiciously.

  'Just try it.'

  A little apprehensively, she stuck her finger through the hole and touched the column itself.

  'It feels damp,' she said in surprise.

  'It's known as the Sweating Column,' Benedict told her. 'People have been touching it for centuries. They believe it cures eye problems and enables barren women to conceive children.' He gave her a slightly mischievous smile. 'Perhaps I shouldn't have encouraged you to touch it.'

  Amy stared back at him, her face suddenly setting into a withdrawn expression. Then she turned round and rapidly walked away from him.

  She didn't stop walking until she was back outside in the sunshine. By that time, Benedict had caught up with her. But he didn't say anything. He simply kept pace with her until she finally came to a halt under the shade of a small group of trees.

  'Obviously, I said something wrong,' he said at last. 'Are you going to tell me what it is?'

  She took a deep breath. 'You didn't say anything wrong,' she replied in a low voice. 'You just reminded me of something that I'd rather forget.'

  'Something very personal,' Benedict said with a small frown. He took hold of her hand again and pulled her down on to the grass. Then he settled himself comfortably beside her. 'Do I have to guess what it
is?'

  'I don't want you to guess,' she said rather sharply. 'I don't even want to talk about it.'

  'When people feel like that about something, the one thing that they should do is talk about it.'

  He had never used quite that tone of voice to her before. Unexpectedly gentle, almost coaxing—it invited confidences.

  'I don't think that I can,' she muttered. And certainly not to him.

  His dark gaze rested on her assessingly. 'It was just after you touched the Sweating Column. Something that I said upset you.' His eyes narrowed as he thought back. 'Was it when I told you that touching the column was supposed to cure fertility problems? Do you have those sort of problems?'

  'No,' she said in an almost inaudible voice. 'But it reminded me—'

  'Reminded you of what?' he prompted softly.

  'It reminded me of a time when I thought I was pregnant,' she blurted out, without looking at him.

  A second later, she couldn't believe that she had actually said it. Not to Benedict Kane, the one man whom she didn't want to know too much about her.

  He was silent for a while, as if waiting to see if she was voluntarily going to tell him anything more. When it became obvious that she wasn't, he shifted his position a little, moving slightly closer. Amy felt a nervous flutter inside of her. Although she didn't know why, she had the feeling that it would be very hard to keep anything from this man if he started asking direct questions.

  'How did you feel, when you thought you were pregnant?' he asked at last.

  Amy hadn't expected him to ask that. It was a question that wasn't too difficult to answer, though.

  'Surprised,' she admitted drily. 'Scared, disbelieving, elated—every half-hour, I used to feel something different!'

  'Then you wanted a baby?'

  'Not just a baby. I didn't try and get pregnant because my maternal instincts were running riot. But when I thought it had happened, I was really starry-eyed for a while. I started dreaming about weddings, being happy ever after, the two of us with the baby—' Her eyes became shadowed. 'I was pretty naive at the time. Like a school-kid who still believes in fairy-tales with happy endings.'