Sweet Revenge

herself.”
    “Is it still used?”
    “Possibly. Probably, why?”
    “Just looking for escape routes. What’s the drop from this window?”
    “Sixty, perhaps seventy feet. Into the rocks and the sea.”
    “I prefer the harem.”
    “Yes, you’d only be castrated for being caught in there.”She said it briskly as she handed him a book. “This is an excellent work on the customs and the country. You’d do well to read up before you find yourself in a dark cell for touching a woman’s arm in the marketplace or asking the wrong question.”
    “Thanks a lot.”
    “It isn’t a place you’ll understand, Philip. You’ll be on your own while I’m inside. I still have no idea how I’ll be able to contact you and let you know it’s done.”
    “If you have the idea that I’ll be kicking my heels in some hot, miserable hotel while you play princess in the palace, you’re mistaken. I’m going in with you.”
    Sitting back, she waved a finger at the book. “You really are going to have to read that. Once I’m in Jaquir, you won’t even be able to speak to me, much less go into the palace with me. That’s a matter of law. As a woman, I’ll be forbidden contact with any man outside of my family. If I were married, I could also see men in my husband’s family.”
    “We’ll have to find a way around that.” He flipped through the book. “And you’ll have to wrangle me an invitation to the palace.”
    “I’m hardly in the position to ask Abdu any favors. He has to let me come back or shame himself, but he doesn’t have to grant me any requests.”
    “Then you’ll have to marry me.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” She was up and grabbing the coffeepot, striding into the kitchen.
    “We could postpone that, I suppose.” He followed her into the kitchen, then began to rout in the refrigerator for something more interesting than sandwiches. “I would like you to meet my mother first.”
    “I’m never getting married.” She dumped grounds into the trash.
    “All right, we’ll live in sin until the first child comes along, but back to the business at hand.” He found a pint of ice cream in the freezer and, locating a spoon, ate out of the carton. “What if we were engaged—as far as Abdu was concerned,” he finished before she could object again.
    “We’re not getting engaged as far as anyone’s concerned.”
    “Think about it a minute. It makes sense. After all these years you’re going back to Jaquir to make peace with yourfather before you marry. Just to fit in a bit better, the trip could have been at my insistence. I’m happy to play the arrogant chauvinist.”
    “You’d do it well.” But she was thinking. Taking the carton from him, she sampled. “I suppose it could work. It might even be an advantage. He’d want you to stay at the palace so that he could look you over. He’d expect his approval to carry weight. If you’re going to be there in any case, you might as well be of some use.”
    “Thank you very much.” He pushed her nose into the carton. “Now, why don’t you practice playing the quiet, subservient wife-to-be while I make some calls?”
    “I’d rather swallow a roach.”
    “Be that as it may, it wouldn’t hurt you to brush up on how to nod agreeably and walk two paces behind.”
    “I don’t intend to be there more than two weeks.” She wiped ice cream from her nose. “So don’t get used to it.”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    “Who are you calling?”
    “I have to pull a few strings to get a visa for Jaquir. And then I’m going to insure that news of our engagement spreads quickly. All the better for cover, Your Highness.”
    “I’m not going to marry you, Philip.”
    “Right.” He started out, then turned back. “One question. If I’m caught making love with you in Jaquir, what can I expect?”
    “Being camel-whipped, at the very least. A beheading’s more likely—for both of us.”
    “Hmmm. Gives a man something to think about.”
    Adrianne shook her head when the door swung shut behind him. Glancing down at the coffeepot, she set it aside. What she wanted now was a drink. A stiff one.

Part III
THE SWEET
    Soon or late love is his own avenger.
    —L ORD B YRON
    The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
    —S HAKESPEARE

Chapter Twenty-Two
    Seventeen years was a long time to wonder. It was a long time to plan. It was a long time to hate. The deep sapphire blue of the Mediterranean spread like a carpet below, disturbed by a few wispy