Sweet Revenge

Switzerland.” Helen ran a hand over one whittled-down hip. “There’s the most marvelous spa there, if you ever feel the need. They starve you to death, then exhaust you until you’re grateful for the few leaves and berries they toss your way. Then, when you’re about to chuck it all, they pamper you with facials and massages and the most exquisite Roman bath. An experience, my dear, I’ll never forget. And I’ll kill myself if I ever have to go back.”
    Adrianne had to laugh. Helen’s light, nonsensical conversation was always delightful. It was a pity she and her husband worshiped the British pound above all else. “I’ll do my best to avoid your spa.”
    “While you’re here, you must get a glimpse of the Countess Tegari’s bracelet. It’s from the Duchess of Windsor’s collection. She outbid me.”
    The glint of avarice in Helen’s eyes helped soothe away a twinge of guilt Adrianne had felt. “Really?”
    “She’s much too old for it, of course, but that’s neither here nor there. You know almost everyone, darling, so do mingle and perk things up while I play hostess.”
    “Of course.” She’d need only fifteen minutes to scout out the safe in the master bedroom. Thinking ahead, Adrianne moved toward Madeline Moreau. It wouldn’t hurt to find out if she had any plans for spring trips.
    Philip saw her the moment she walked in. She was thekind of woman a man was compelled to notice. She fit well into a room filled with the beautiful and the glamourous. Yet, as a man trained through necessity and desire to observe, she seemed just a few degrees too detached and aloof.
    She wore a black tunic with a high, jeweled neck. It fit low and snug over her hips before it flared out in a gold-flecked illusion skirt that showed off her sheerly clad legs. Only the best legs could risk it. As Philip sipped from his glass, he decided hers did nicely.
    Her hair was held back from her face by diamond pins that matched the starbursts at her ears. Even as he approved he recognized her, and wondered.
    Why had this beauty been walking alone on a damp London night, away from the clubs and restaurants and night spots? And where had he seen her face before?
    At least one puzzle could be solved easily. Philip tapped the arm of the man beside him and nodded in Adrianne’s direction. “The small woman with the gorgeous legs. Who is she?”
    The man whose biggest claim to fame was being a cousin twice removed of the Princess of Wales zeroed in. “Princess Adrianne of Jaquir. Gorgeous from head to foot and a heart-breaker. She doesn’t give a man more than the time of day until he’s groveled for several years.”
    Of course. The tabloids, which his mother read religiously, always carried some juicy little bit about Adrianne of Jaquir. She was the daughter of an Arab tyrant and an American film star of some note. Had the mother committed suicide? There was some scandal there, but Philip couldn’t pin it down. Now that he knew who she was, he found it even odder that he’d seen her walking late at night near the house of their hostess.
    Philip’s informant picked at a brochette from the banquet of tidbits that had already been ravaged. “Want an introduction?” He made the offer without enthusiasm. He’d made a play for the elusive Adrianne himself, and had been brushed away like a mosquito.
    “No, I’ll handle it.”
    Philip watched her awhile longer, his suspicion growing that she wasn’t truly a part of this scene, but, like he, anobserver. Intrigued, he wound his way through the crowd until he was at her side.
    “Hello again.”
    Adrianne turned. The recognition was instant. His weren’t eyes she would forget. In a matter of seconds she calculated, then smiled. Better to acknowledge, her instincts told her, than to rebuff with a blank stare.
    “Hello.” She drained her champagne, then handed him the empty glass with just enough of an imperial quality to the gesture to distance him. “Do you often walk at night?”
    “Not often enough or I would have seen you.” Smoothly, Philip signaled a waiter. He replaced the empty glass and selected two fresh ones. “Were you visiting here?”
    She considered the lie, then rejected it in the same instant. If he chose, though God knew why he should, he could find her out. “No, just walking. I wasn’t looking for company that evening.”
    Nor had he been, but he’d found her. “You made a picture that stayed with me—all wrapped in black with fog at