Sweet Revenge

hadn’t gone, but it had iced over and was all the more deadly. “For revenge, it’s never too late. When I take it, the pride of Jaquir, my father will suffer. Not as she did, never as she did, but enough. And when he knows who has it, who took it from him, it will be only sweeter.”
    He didn’t understand true hate. Not once had he stolen for any purpose other than to survive, or to survive in more comfort. But he recognized true hate, and believed it was the most volatile of human fuels. “Do you have any idea what will happen to you if you’re caught?”
    Her eyes were steady and very dark as they met his. “Better than you. I know my title and my American citizenship won’t protect me. If I pay, then I pay. Some gambles are worth the risk.”
    He looked at her, at the way her skin glowed gold in the sunlight. “Yes,” he agreed. “Some are.”
    “I know how to do it, Philip. I’ve had ten years to plan.”
    And he had weeks, perhaps only days, to change her mind. “I’d like to hear about it.”
    “Maybe. Some other time.”
    In an abrupt change of mood, he smiled. “Well make it soon, but I’d say that’s enough shop talk for now. How about that swim?”
    No, she didn’t trust him, Adrianne thought again. There was something a bit too charming about that smile. It might be best all around if, while he was watching her, she was watching him. “I’d love it. I’ll meet you on the beach in fifteen minutes.”
    Adrianne had traveled alone for so long she’d forgotten what it was like to have someone to share small pleasures with. The water was cool and clear, liquid glass through which she could skim and watch the life around her. Like a forest in autumn, coral glowed gold, orange, scarlet, with wispy fans of lacy purple that waved in the current. Velvet-tailed fish darted, their lavish colors gleaming as they nibbled on sponges.
    Hampered only with a mask and snorkel, she could dive down to be nipped at by a tiny and pugnacious damselfish or to be watched by the sergeant majors who loitered, waiting for a handout. They swam out where the depth changed, sliding from the reef to fifty mirror-clear feet. Signals between them were a touch of the hand on the arm and gestures. It seemed to be enough that they understood each other, and that the afternoon was theirs.
    Adrianne didn’t want to question why she felt so at ease with him—relaxed as she had been on the evening they’d spent at a country inn outside London. She wasn’t a woman who had legions of friends, but, rather, acquaintances, people who came and went in her life. Where she gave friendship, she gave herself with it completely, with no limitations, and therefore she gave it carefully. Though trust wasn’t fully in place, she felt friendship for him, and despite her reservations was pleased to have him with her.
    She wasn’t a princess now, or a master thief, but a woman enjoying the sun and the magic of the sea.
    She surfaced, laughing, and balanced one flipper precariously on a stump of coral. Water poured off her hair andskin, gleaming jewellike. She pushed her mask back on her head as Philip rose with her.
    “What’s funny?” He shook his hair back before pushing back his own mask.
    “That fish with the big bulging eye. All I could think of was Lord Fume.”
    He lifted a brow and steadied himself. “Do you always make fun of your victims?”
    “Only when it’s apt. Oh, the sun’s wonderful.” With her eyes closed she lifted her face to it and made him think of mermaids and sirens. “But you shouldn’t stay out in it long with that pale British skin.”
    “Worried about me?”
    When she opened her eyes there was amusement in them rather than caution. Progress, he thought. However small. “I’d hate to be responsible for you being sunburned.”
    “I imagine it’s snowing in London now, and families are sitting down to the Christmas goose.”
    “And in New York the goose isn’t cooked yet.” She cupped a handful of water, then let it pour through her fingers. “We always had turkey. Mama loved the smell of it roasting.” She shook off the feeling and managed a smile. “One year she decided to cook it herself, the way her grandmother had in Nebraska. She pushed so much stuffing in the bird that when it expanded with the heat, it burst. The poor turkey was a mess.” Shielding her eyes, she looked toward the horizon. “Look, a ship’s coming in.”
    She shifted for better purchase and slid off the rock