Sweet Revenge

seen—”
    “Wasn’t.”
    “Will you listen to me?”
    “I’m all ears.”
    “And hands.” She batted them away. “It’s a foolish enough risk for you to be out of your own wing, but here …” She paused long enough to pull his light and clever fingers away from the buttons on her nightshirt. “How did you find my room?”
    “I have my ways.”
    “Philip.”
    “A little tracking device on your makeup case.”
    With a sound of disgust she rose to pace. “You’ve been with Interpol too long. If you keep treating this like something out of a spy novel, you are going to lose your head.”
    “I needed to see you. I needed to see that you were all right.”
    “I appreciate that, but you were supposed to wait until I contacted you.”
    “I didn’t. Would you like to waste time arguing about it?”
    “No.” She didn’t think it was wise to risk the lamp, but lighted two candles instead. “I suppose it’s best if we do talk after Abdu’s little bombshell.”
    “I’m sorry it was sprung on you that way. It was impossible to warn you.”
    “More to the point, what are we going to do about it?”
    “What can we do?” The trace of smugness in his voice wasn’t lost on her. “I’ve signed on the dotted line. I seriously doubt if we can manage to steal the necklace and work out an alternate way of leaving the country in less than a week.”
    “No.” She sat again, trying as she had all evening to think it through. “I’ve wondered if he suspects something, and that’s why he’s rushing the marriage.”
    “Suspects that his daughter’s one of the top thieves of the decade?”
    She lifted a brow. “One of?”
    “I’m still around, darling.” He picked up her veil and ran it through his hands. “I find it difficult to imagine that Abdu suspects your intent when you’ve had Interpol chasing down blind alleys all these years. Isn’t it more likely that he wants to have a hand in the arrangements?”
    “Out of fatherly sentimentality? Hardly.”
    “You’re not thinking, Addy.” He said it quietly because the edge to her voice worried him. “I suspect it’s more a matter of pride and image.”
    She sat a moment, fighting past the bitterness. “Yes, that rings true. Both are enormously important to him.” She twisted the diamond around on her finger. “How do we handle it?”
    “You tell me.” He tossed the veil aside.
    “It’s your game.” “It’s going to put you in a very awkward position, Philip.”
    “A position I’d already decided to put myself in, if you recall. I intend to marry you anyway. Here or in London hardly matters.”
    In all her career she’d never felt more neatly cornered. “You know how I feel about that.”
    “I know very well. So?”
    She continued to sit on the bed, worrying the ring, working through the stages. “It’s only a ceremony, after all. Neither of us is Muslim, so we don’t have to take it seriously.”
    “A wedding’s a wedding.”
    She’d said the same thing to herself. “All right, then, we can go through with it. A Muslim wedding can be ended by Muslim customs. Once we’re home again you can divorce me.”
    Amused, Philip sat beside her. “On what grounds?”
    “You’re a man, you don’t need any to speak of. All you have to do is say I divorce you’ three times and it’s over.”
    “Handy.” He reached for a cigarette, then stopped himself. “And I’ll only be out the price of four camels.”
    “Is that what he asked for me? Four camels?” With what might have been a laugh, she wrapped her arms around her chest.
    “I haggled, as you suggested, but I didn’t know if I was being taken or not.”
    “Oh, no, it’s quite a bargain. You’d pay more for a lame third wife.”
    “Adrianne—”
    “The insult is to me, not to you.” She shrugged off his hand. “It doesn’t matter, or it won’t once I have The Sun and the Moon. Four camels or four hundred, I’m still being bought and sold.”
    “We have to play by his rules only while we’re here.” Gently, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “In a couple of weeks well—” The candlelight flickered over her face so that the bruise stood out. “How did you come by this?”
    “Honesty.” She started to smile when she saw his expression. The look in his eyes had her mouth drying up. “Philip—”
    “He did this to you?” He spoke as if each word might break if not handled with care. “He struck you?”
    “It’s nothing.” Panic had her grabbing