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‘No. It’s just—’ There was a flip side to the jewels and the rich costumes and a lifestyle of luxury and indulgence, Amber realised, a flip side to chandeliers and staircases made all of crystal, to the gilt ceilings and the romanticism of what life in the palace must have been like. And it was the stark truth that the Sultan and what was his had to be protected, and by men who could be trusted.
And she thought about Kadar, masculine and virile, and shuddered when she thought what a waste of a man that would be. ‘It just seems so cruel.’
‘Life can be cruel. But he led a good life—pampered, many would say, and then he lived out his life with the woman he took as his wife and brought Mehmet up as his own son.’
As Mehmet had done with him, Kadar thought uneasily. Paying it forward. Giving a child a father when he had none. A semblance of family where his had been cruelly ripped away.
A lump formed in the back of his throat.
He owed the old man everything. But he already knew that. He didn’t have to tell this woman about him to appreciate how much the old man had done for him.
Maddening.
That was what she was.
* * *
They ate that night at a restaurant near the fish markets of Kumkapi on the Sea of Marmara, where the fish were displayed in patterns on trays like works of art, and where locals and tourists alike mixed to enjoy the atmosphere and the freshest catches from the sea, and afterwards they made love long into the night.
And the next day he escorted her around the Grand Bazaar before he surprised her by taking her on the Bosphorus cruise she’d missed.
Amber was beyond excited. The day was mostly clear, and seeing Istanbul from the water gave the city another dimension. They sat on the deck of the boat protected from the breeze and with the thin winter sun shining down on them and cruised down the waterway that separated two continents, sea birds wheeling behind them, hoping to be thrown a crust of bread.
They sailed past palaces and ancient fortresses, apartment buildings marching up the sides of the hills and quaint timber houses alike. A huge container ship heading from the Black Sea passed them by as they sailed under the Bosphorus bridge that joined Europe to Asia within the one country.
And as Amber swivelled her camera to capture the views it seemed Istanbul only became more remarkable and more beautiful.
Kadar watched her as she took photos of the bridge, the castle, the Turkish flag flapping proudly in the bow of the boat with the white wake spilling behind, her enthusiasm infectious, and, for all her faults, she reminded him of all that was good about his adopted homeland. She reminded him of all the things he’d once marvelled at and somehow forgotten in his acceptance of this place as his home.
It was good to see Istanbul from a visitor’s point of view.
And he looked at her once again, with the ends of her hair whipping around her face and her bright blue eyes smiling and her smile so wide, and he thought, no. More than that. It was good to see Istanbul from this woman’s point of view. She made Istanbul shiny and exciting and new. She made everything she saw a discovery. A delight.
And it was no hardship to be seen with her. He saw the glances from other men on the boat. The looks of envy. The wishing.
But more than that.
For despite the fact this was an obligation he’d accepted, it was simply no hardship to be with her.
He’d never spent much time with any woman. Had never felt the need or the compunction. But now he was obliged to spend his days with this woman, it was some relief that he didn’t feel as if it would be a chore seeing out his obligations.
Establishing some kind of rapport during the day would make their time together much more bearable.
Would make their nights together more workable.
That was all.
That was all.
Because even when he could hear his friends Zoltan and Bahir joking and asking who would be next to be married, there was no fear of that. Because this wasn’t about marriage.
This was about duty. Nothing more. And there was no risk, he told himself, because she was still going home at the end of it.
Seven more nights and she would be gone.
Which gave him seven more nights to enjoy her pleasures before she got on that plane and disappeared for ever.
He wasn’t about to waste a single one of them.
* * *
‘Thank you,’ she said, with an unexpected kiss to his cheek as the boat docked back at its berth.
‘What for?’ he asked as they waited for the gangway to be organised. ‘It was only the tour that you were going to take.’
‘I know. But I thought I’d missed my chance. But that was so special, thank you.’
