Rogue

They drove through the gigantic palm trees bordering the driveway, as they approached the peach-colored stucco of La Mamounia Hotel. Arabella had heard about it for years, and had always wanted to come here, and doing so with Blake was the best of all possible worlds. Men in white Moroccan outfits with red sashes greeted them, as Arabella noticed the carved wood and mosaic designs outside the hotel, and the manager appeared. Blake had already stayed there several times since buying the ancient palace, and had reserved one of the hotel's three luxurious private villas, which he was keeping until the remodeling and decoration would be complete.

Just to show Arabella, they walked into the main lobby where they stood on white marble floors, bordered in black marble, beneath a huge elaborate chandelier. They had entered the lobby through multicolored stained-glass doors, in red, yellow, and blue, as a bevy of men in white pajamas, gray vests, and red hats surrounded them and greeted Arabella and Blake. There were five luxurious restaurants and five bars for the guests' convenience, Turkish baths, and every possible amenity. And when the manager took them to Blake's private villa, a staff of servants were waiting for them there. The villa had three bedrooms, a living room, a dining area, a small kitchen for their use, and a separate full kitchen for a chef to prepare their meals, if they didn't wish to dine in the city or any of the hotel's restaurants. They had their own entrance, garden, and Jacuzzi, so if they didn't want to see anyone during their stay there, that was possible too. But Arabella was anxious to see the city with him. Blake had asked his driver to wait for them, and he and Arabella wanted to go out and explore, after they had a quiet meal in their garden. It was magical and exotic just being there.

They both showered and changed, and ate a light meal at the table in the garden, and then went out together hand in hand. They walked through the main square, kept their distance from the snake charmers, and took a carriage ride around the ramparts of the city. It was everything Arabella hoped it would be, and after sitting in the Jacuzzi in their private garden, and inhaling the heady fragrance of the flowers, they retired to their bedroom and made love for hours. It was nearly dawn when they fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, their staff at the villa prepared an enormous breakfast for them. Blake showed her his plans for the palace he was rebuilding, and after breakfast they drove out to see it. It was even more fabulous than she expected. It had turrets and arches, and an enormous inner courtyard with beautiful old mosaics inset into the walls, and the rooms of the house were huge. It truly was a palace, and Blake's eyes danced as he walked through it with the architect and Arabella. She made some terrific suggestions for paint colors and the decor. And suddenly as he walked around, he knew he wanted to share it with her. He pulled her into his arms on a balcony overlooking the Atlas Mountains, and kissed her with the passion that had characterized their relationship from the first.

“I want this to be our love nest. It will be perfect for us. You can paint here.” He could see himself spending months there once it was finished. It was a perfect little town, with the restaurants, the bazaars with their exotic wares, and the beauty of nature beyond them. And there was a lively social life as well. Arabella had several French friends who had moved to Marrakech, and she and Blake had dinner with them before they left. It had been a terrific trip.

They dropped the architect off in London, and then flew to the Azores, and from there to St. Bart's. Arabella loved his house there, and a week later they took off on his boat. It was the largest sailboat she had ever seen, and they headed for the Grenadine Islands, just north of Venezuela. She had had to reorganize all her portrait sitting sessions to be with him, and travel with him, but it was worth it. She lay naked on the sun deck with him, as they glided quietly through the transparent green waters. It was February by then, and they both agreed it was the perfect life. It was snowing everywhere else in the world but eternal summer for them. Best of all, it was the summer of their love.

Maxine was walking through snowdrifts then on the way to her office, and she was busier than ever. She'd had a number of new referrals, and a rash of school shootings around the country had her flying to several cities to consult with teams of psychiatrists and local authorities about how to deal with the children who'd been involved.