by Nora Roberts
“We’ll go if you like.”
“Yes, I would.” Weary, she rubbed her hands over her eyes. With them closed she could see the necklace as it had looked when she had secreted it away at dawn. Sunlight had struck it. Ice had warred with fire in a combat that had never, would never be resolved. “She left it behind. She left everything behind but me. It wasn’t until we were safe in New York that I realized she’d risked her life to get me away.”
“Then I’m in her debt as much as you are.” He took both her hands and brought them to his lips. He felt the pulse and the power that stirred inside her. “She was an extraordinary woman,” he said. “As extraordinary as her daughter and the necklace you’ve taken back for her. I won’t forget the way you looked when you held it in your hands. You were wrong, you know. It is for you.”
She remembered the weight. She remembered the glory. And she felt the grief. “Make love with me, Philip.”
He unhooked his belt, then hers. Taking her hand, he drew her to her feet. As they stood in the narrow aisle he slipped her jacket from her shoulders and let it fall. When he lowered his mouth to hers he felt the nerves she’d been steadily battling back. Her lips were soft, and parted, and vulnerable. Her fingers, always so sure, fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.
“Silly,” she said, and let her hands fall away. “It feels like the first time.”
“In a way it is. There are all kinds of turning points in life, Addy.” He slipped the blouse from her, then let her skirt slide from her hips. She wore only a filmy chemise and the rings he’d given her.
Slowly, needing to prolong the moment, he unpinned her hair so that it flowed over her breasts. She stepped closer, fitting her body against his.
He took his time, as much for himself as for her. Slow kisses, soft caresses. A murmur. A sigh. As the plane cruised over the sea they lowered to the narrow sofa, wrapped around each other.
There was such strength in him, a strength she had discovered layer by layer. He was much more than a man who offered a woman roses and sparkling wine in the moonlight. More than a thief who climbed through windows in the dark. He was a man who would keep his word, who would stand by her if only she allowed it. A man who would offer both surprises and, oddly, stability.
She couldn’t have said when she’d gone beyond her own borders and fallen in love with him. She couldn’t have said why it had happened despite her determination to prevent it. Perhaps it had been that very first night when they’d been strangers passing in the fog. But she did know the moment when she finally admitted it to herself. Now.
He felt the change but couldn’t describe it. Her body seemed warmer, softer, so that her skin flowed like wine under his hands. Her heart beat like thunder. She pulled him closer, her mouth open on his. The flavor of passion was there, but spiked with something darker, deeper. Her skin was damp, heating degree by degree as he stroked a hand down her—breast, waist, thigh. Yet she trembled. When he lifted his head, he saw her eyes, too, were damp.
“Addy—”
“No.” She touched her fingers to his lips. “Just love me. I need you.”
His eyes darkened at that, went to smoke in a warning of either temper or desire. But his mouth came to hers gently as he restrained the urge to savage what was offered. “Tell me again.”
Before she could speak, he drove her up so that her fingers clutched at his shoulders, then slid off, damp flesh against damp flesh. Her passion poured, a flood into his hand, leaving her gasping but far from empty. He watched her eyes widen and glaze over as her body contracted then went lax under his. Her breath caught as she began the next rise. Now her thoughts were only of him, and her body was like water, flowing, undulating, cresting. Light washed the cabin and beat against her closed lids in a red haze.
She shifted, desperate to give him the same mindless pleasures. His body was a delight, hard and lean, his skin shades and shades paler than her own. She cruised over it now, leaving moist kisses and lines of heat. Through her lips she felt the beat of his heart; with fingertips she sent it racing faster. Some was instinct, some he had taught her. Combined, her knowledge was everything he could have asked for.
She felt his fingers trail down her arms, glide. Their palms met. Opening her eyes, she saw he was watching her. Their fingers laced, gripped firm, like a promise.
She shuddered when he filled her. Then moved to him, moved with him, beat to beat.
The plane rocked through clouds. Locked together, they felt only the turbulence of one to one. Paris was a haze in the distance. It was his name she called out, telling him everything he wanted to know.
“We’re leaving for New York tomorrow.” Philip carried the phone to the window and looked out at Paris. The city was slick with sleet, the sky gray as pewter. Not for the first time he wished that Adrianne weren’t out alone.
“It’s big of you to check in.”
Philip let Spencer’s sarcasm roll over him. “A man’s entitled to privacy during his honeymoon.”
“As to that …” Spencer grumbled and bit down on the stem of his pipe. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“You might have let me know.”
“It was—ah—a whirlwind romance. That doesn’t mean you can slip out of sending a present, old boy. Something tastefully expensive.”
“Not putting a reprimand in your file’s present enough. Bypassing channels for clearance then sneaking off behind my back to some godforsaken country while we’re hip-deep in a case.”
“Love does strange things to a man, Stuart, I’m sure you remember. As to the case,” he added while Spencer harrumphed. “I haven’t neglected it completely. Word from my former associates is that our man has retired. Dropped off the continent for the moment.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Yes, exactly. I may be able to make it up to you.”
“How?”
“You recall a Rubens that was stolen from the Van Wyes collection about four years ago.”
“Three and a half—there was a Rubens along with two Corots, a Wyeth, and a Beardsley pen and ink.”
“Phenomenal memory you have, Captain. It’s the Rubens I may help you with.”
“In what way?”
“I’ve a lead on it.” He smiled a little, remembering the way his light had passed over it inside Abdu’s vault. Yes, there were all sorts of paths to revenge. “It’s possible that the Rubens could lead you to the others.”
“I want you in London tomorrow, Philip, for a full report.”
“I’m afraid I have a previous commitment. But,” he continued before Spencer could shout at him. “I’ll be more than willing to tell you everything I know, which is considerable, in a few days. Providing we can come to an agreement.”
“What kind of a bloody agreement? If you have information on a stolen painting, it’s your duty to tell me.”
Philip heard the door open. His smile widened as Adrianne stepped in. Her hair was damp with sleet. At the moment he felt enormous pleasure from watching her do no more than peel off her gloves.
“Captain, I know exactly where my duty lies. Exactly.” He wrapped an arm around Adrianne’s waist and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll have a nice long chat. See if you can get to New York. I’d like you to meet my wife.”
He hung up so that he could kiss Adrianne more satisfactorily. “You’re cold.” He rubbed his hands over hers.
“That was your Captain Spencer?”
“He sends his congratulations.”
“I’ll bet.” She set aside a shopping bag. “How annoyed is he?”
“Very. But I have something that should perk him up. Buy me anything?”
“Actually, I did. I picked up a Hermes scarf for Celeste, and I saw this.” She pulled out a cashmere sweater the same color as his eyes. “You didn’t pack for winter in Paris. I imagine you have dozens at home.”
Perhaps it was foolish to be moved, but he was. “I don’t have one from you. Is this why you wouldn’t l
et me come with you?”
“No.” She fussed with the hem of the sweater when he pulled it over his head. “I needed to be alone for a while, to think. I checked in with Celeste. Everything’s been delivered to my apartment. She unpacked the Chinese box.”
“And the necklace?”
“Is exactly where I put it. I told her to leave it there. I prefer to handle it myself when we get back.”
“You seem to have it all under control.” He tilted up her chin with a finger. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”
She drew a long breath. “Philip, I sent a letter to my father. I told him I have The Sun and the Moon.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I have to tell you I’m terribly hurt you got married without me.”
“Celeste, I’ve already explained to you that it was only a ruse.”
“Ruse or not, I should have been there.” Celeste arranged the new scarf around her neck and studied the results in the mirror. “Besides the fact that if I’m any judge, you’ll have to run long and hard to get away from a man like Philip Chamberlain.” She grinned, running her fingers down the scarf. “Twenty years ago I’d have raced you for him.”
“Be that as it may, as soon as this is over, we’ll be going our separate ways.”
“My dear.” She turned away from the mirror to face Adrianne. “You’re not nearly the actress your mother was.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re in love with him, terminally I’d guess. And I’m thrilled for you.”
“Feelings don’t change facts.” She worried the ring on her finger. “Philip and I have an agreement.”
“My darling.” She kissed Adrianne’s cheek. “Feelings change everything. Would you like to talk about it?”
“No.” She signed, annoyed that the sound was plaintive. “Actually, I don’t even want to think about it quite yet. I’ve enough on my mind.”
It took only that for Celeste’s smile to fade. “I’m worried about you, worried about what he’ll do now that he knows you have it.”
“What can he do?” In dismissal, Adrianne picked up her coat. “He might want to murder me, but that wouldn’t get him back the necklace.” She faced herself in the mirror again as she secured the hooks. “Believe me, I know how much he’ll want it, how much he’ll compromise to get it.”
“How can you talk about all of this so calmly?”
“Because I’m bedouin enough to accept my own destiny. This is what I’ve been waiting for all my life. Don’t worry, Celeste, he won’t kill me, and he’ll pay.” In the glass she saw her own eyes harden. “Once he does, maybe I’ll be able to see the rest of my life more clearly.”
“Addy.” Celeste took her hand, holding her back. “Has it been worth it?”
She thought of the roads she’d taken, all of which had led her to an airless vault in an ancient palace. Involuntarily, she reached up to touch the hoops in her ears. “It has to be. It will be.”
She left, deciding to walk the few blocks to her own apartment rather than take a cab. The street was quiet. It was almost February now and too cold for casual strolls. There would be a few diehards jogging their frigid way around the park, breath pumping out in clouds. Doormen stood wrapped in wool, ears tingling. With her hands deep in her pockets, Adrianne walked without hurry.
She knew she was being followed. She’d spotted the tail the day before. Her father’s handiwork, she was certain, though she hadn’t mentioned it to Philip. The necklace was her insurance.
Philip would be at his meeting with Spencer by now. There was some secret there, she mused. He’d been distracted when they’d gone their separate ways that afternoon. Actually, he’d been distracted from the moment Spencer had called to say he’d arrived.
Not her business, she reminded herself. Hadn’t she just finished telling Celeste that she and Philip had an agreement? If he had secrets, or problems with his superior, he was entitled to his privacy. But she wished—couldn’t help but wish—that he had confided in her.
She saw the long black limo outside her building. It wasn’t an unusual sight, but her heart began to hammer. Somehow she knew even before the door opened who would step out.
Abdu had exchanged his throbe for a business suit, his sandals for good Italian leather, but he still wore the headdress of his country. They stood watching each other in silence.
“Come with me.”
She eyed the man beside him, knowing he would be armed, knowing he would obey without question any command from his king. Fury might make Abdu want to have her shot on the street, but he wasn’t a fool.
“I think it best you come with me.” She turned her back on him and held her breath as she walked into the building. “Leave your man outside,” she said as she felt him behind her. “This is between the two of us.”
They stepped onto the elevator. If anyone had looked, they would have seen a handsome, distinguished man in a dark chesterfield and a young woman, obviously his daughter, in mink. Some might have noted what a stunning picture they made before the elevator doors closed them in.
She was hot. It had nothing to do with the heat of the building or the warmth of her fur. It wasn’t fear, though she was well aware his hands were strong enough to choke her before they’d reached the top floor. It wasn’t even triumph, not yet, but merely anticipation of the moment she’d waited for so long.
“You got my letter.” Though he didn’t answer, she tilted her head to look at him. “I sent you another years ago. You didn’t come then. Apparently the necklace is worth more than my mother’s life.”
“I could have you taken back to Jaquir. You would be grateful to have only your hands severed.”
“You have no hold over me.” She stepped out as the doors opened. “Not anymore. I loved you once, and feared you more. Now even the fear’s gone.”
She opened the door of her apartment and saw that his men had already been there. Cushions were slashed, tables upturned, drawers tossed out. It was more than a search, more personal, more vindictive. Fury leapt out and into her eyes.
“Did you think I would keep it here?” She moved into the room, skirting the rubble. “I’ve waited much too long to make it simple for you.” She was expecting the blow and managed to step back enough so that it glanced off her cheek. “Touch me again,” she said evenly, “and you’ll never see it. I swear to you.”
He clenched his hands at his sides. “You will return what belongs to me.”
She took off her coat to toss it aside. The Chinese box lay broken at her feet, but it had done its work. The necklace was once more in a vault. This time in a New York bank. “I have nothing that belongs to you. What I have belonged to my mother, and now to me. That is the law of Islam, the law of Jaquir, the law of the king.” Her eyes were a mirror of his. “Do you defy the law?”
“I am the law. The Sun and the Moon belongs to Jaquir and to me, not to the daughter of a whore.”
Adrianne walked over to the portrait of her mother that had been ripped from the wall and thrown aside. Carefully, she righted it so that the glorious face was turned toward him. She waited until he looked, and saw, and remembered.
“It belonged to the wife of a king, before God and before the law.” She crossed back to him. “It was you who stole—her necklace, her honor, and in the end, her life. I swore I would take it back, and I have. I swore you would pay, and you will.”
“It is like a woman to lust after stones.” He gripped her arm, fingers digging. “You have no knowledge of their true value, their true meaning.”
“As well as you,” she said, and managed to pry free. “Perhaps better than you. Do you think I care about the diamond, about the pearl?” With a sound of disgust she whirled away from him. “It was the gift of it that mattered to her, and the betrayal when you took it away and usurped her. She didn’t care about the necklace, about the cut, the color, the carats. It mattered only that you’d given it in love
and taken it in hate.”
He hated having the portrait there, staring at him, reminding him. “I was mad when I gave it, sane when I took it back. If you want to live, you will bring it to me.”
“Another death on your hands?” She moved her shoulders as if it mattered no more to her than to him. “If I die, it dies with me.” She waited until she was certain he believed her. “Yes, you see I mean what I say. I’ve been prepared to die for this. If I do, I’ll still have revenge. But I’d prefer to avoid that. You can take it back to Jaquir, but not without a price.”
“I will take it back, and the price will be yours to pay.”
She turned to him. This was her father, yet she felt nothing. Thank God this time she felt nothing. “I’ve spent most of my life hating you.” She said it calmly, flatly, her voice a mirror of her emotions. “You know how she suffered, how she died.” She waited, watching his eyes. “Yes, you would know. Pain, torment, grief, confusion. I watched her die a little year by year. Knowing that you should understand there’s nothing you can do to me that could matter.”
“Perhaps not, but you are not alone.”
She went pale, pleasing him. “If you harm Philip, I’ll see you dead. I swear it, and The Sun and the Moon’s only home will be in the bottom of the sea.”
“So he matters to you.”
“More than you’re capable of understanding.” With her throat tight, she played her final card. “But even he doesn’t know where the necklace is. Only I know. You deal with me, and only me, Abdu. I promise you the value I put on your honor will be far below the value of my mother’s life.”
He raised his fist this time. Adrianne braced just as the door slammed shut. “You lay a hand on her again, and I’ll kill you.” Even as Adrianne stumbled back, Philip had Abdu by the lapels.