Sweet Revenge

herself. His heart would never open wide enough to include Adrianne. “I love you as I love all the children of my children. I will see you again. Not in this life, but there is another.”
    “If I have children, I will tell them all the stories you told me.”
    “You will have children.
Inshallah
. Go to your husband.”
    There were other good-byes to be said before she stepped through the garden door. More than one woman envied her the freedom to go. More than one woman pitied her for losing the protection of the harem. She kissed Leiha, then Sara. Both of them carried lives that tied her to Jaquir. She would never see them again, nor the children they would bear. As Adrianne turned her back on them, she wondered if she would ever feel that fierce kind of unity again.
    Then the harem, with all its scents, all its symbols, was behind her. She heard the waters of the fountains ringing as she walked through the garden and beyond. The palace, and the memories it held, were behind her.
    The car was already waiting. Beside it she saw Philip, and both of her brothers.
    “I wish you happiness.” Fahid kissed her cheeks. “And a long, fruitful life. I have always loved you.”
    “I know.” She laid a palm against his face. “If you come to America, my home is open to you. To both of you.” She stepped quickly into the car.
    She didn’t speak on the way to the airport. Philip left her to her thoughts, knowing they weren’t on the necklace in the box strapped in the cargo hold of a plane already heading west, but of the people she was leaving behind. She looked neither right nor left as they drove through the city, nor did she turn even once to look back at the palace as it shrunk with distance.
    “Are you all right?”
    She continued to stare straight ahead, but laid a hand on his. “I will be.”
    At the airport he managed to discourage the wild-tongued Turkish porters who grabbed at bags to carry them to cabs or gates whether the owners wished it or not. With threats and gestures he held them back so that between himself and the driver they carried the bags to the waiting plane. The pilot stood ready, his hand out to assist Adrianne up the ramp.
    “Afternoon, sir, ma’am. Hope you had a nice trip.” Philip had an urge to kiss the pilot hard on the mouth forno other reason than his cheerful British voice. “How’s the weather in London, Harry?”
    “Miserable, sir, plain miserable.”
    “Thank God.”
    “Your room’s booked in Paris, sir. And may I congratulate you on your marriage.”
    “Thanks.” He took a last look over his shoulder at Jaquir. “Get us out of here, will you?”
    Adrianne had already shed her
abaaya
when Philip boarded. Under it she wore a tailored suit the color of raspberries. Her hair, uncovered now, was in a sleek French twist. He wondered if she knew the style made her seem more exotic than ever.
    “Feel better now?”
    She glanced as he did at the symbols she’d shed, the
abaaya
, the scarf, and the veil. “Some. How soon before we takeoff?”
    “As soon as we get clearance. Would you like a drink?”
    Because she’d already seen the bucket of champagne, she managed to smile. “I’d love one.” She started to sit, then knowing she was too restless, paced the small cabin. “Why should I be more nervous now than when we arrived?”
    “Natural enough, Addy.”
    “Is it?” She fiddled with the pin on her lapel. “You’re not.”
    “I’m not leaving anything behind.”
    She dropped her hand, then linked her fingers. It was difficult to say whether she appreciated or resented the feet that he read her so well. “We’ve got a lot to work out, Philip, not the least of which is what we’re going to do with those truckloads of wedding gifts.”
    If she didn’t want to think about the real reason for her emotional turmoil, he could wait. He eased the cork out with a muffled pop. Champagne raced toward the lip, then retreated. “I thought they were being shipped to New York as camouflage for the necklace.”
    “They are. We can’t keep them.”
    He sent her a mild look as he poured the wine. “For a thief, you have an unusual conscience.”
    “Stealing’s entirely different from accepting gifts underfalse pretenses.” She took the glass. He touched his rim to hers, watching her carefully.
    “Wasn’t the ceremony legal?”
    “Yes, I suppose it would be considered so, but it’s more a matter of intent, isn’t it?”
    He knew exactly what his intent was, so