Revenge of the Black Virgin (9 page)

Luc led Hilda through the old Berber souk,
the largest in the country, where they kept getting lost in the
crooked little side streets that radiated the heat of the sun long
into the night.

They pushed and shoved their way along
cobbled lanes, dodging camels, donkeys, dogs—and their
shit—swatting at flies, constantly followed by a gang of eager
vendors holding up their wares, shouting and singing as they tagged
behind like a procession. Toy camels, hats, jewelry, candle
holders, mirrors, caftans, baskets, shoes, wooden ware, brass
plates, ceramic pots, purses and wallets—the array of merchandise
was stunning. Laughing and trying to remain polite, Luc and his
blonde companion just smiled and waved them away, like the
flies.

Despite the exhausting heat, they went on to
see all the sights—the Hotel Mamounia with its elaborate casino,
the leather-dying vats and the grand mosques. They visited the
Menara Gardens and the Badi Palace with its Carrera marble, watched
water carriers decked out in their traditional costumes pose for
photographs with tourists, perused market stalls piled high with
fresh and dried fruit, nuts, spices, olives, capers, chilli
peppers, lemons, mint and sweets of every kind.

Each time they came within a hundred yards of
a carpet store, they were practically dragged inside, tempted with
cups of steaming mint tea, frosty cans of Coke, or trays of
pastries. Luc laughed at the way Hilda flirted with the salesmen,
charming them as surely as the snake charmers with their cobras in
the square. He didn’t know how she managed to escape each day
without having bought a single thing.

They ate sweet pigeon pie, fragrant couscous,
spiced roast lamb and pastries so good they rivaled the best France
could offer. And cup after cup of mint tea, heavily sweetened and
tasting like no tea anywhere else in the world, Luc thought.

Several times he found himself thinking about
Joanna as he allowed himself to enjoy the sensory pleasures of the
exotic. He didn’t know if she’d been to Morocco, and he wondered if
she’d like it. He had to force himself to stop thinking about her
body when he watched the belly dancers writhe and wiggle and jangle
their chains in front of him every time he walked into a
restaurant. Hilda’s lean figure didn’t have the curves and jiggle
he craved. Joanna’s did.

Daniel would be expecting some sort of gift,
so one evening Luc set off on his own to try to find something the
boy would like. He always enjoyed haggling with shopkeepers in the
traditional marketplace, and he particularly liked the way that
shopping in this country was treated like a social interaction
rather than the impersonal exchange of money for goods.

After looking at a dozen shops, he allowed
himself to be lured into an Aladdin’s Cave of treasures, where the
middle-aged proprietor offered him a seat. Over a pot of tea they
talked amiably for half an hour before Luc began negotiating a
price for a small brass-handled dagger for his son, and a pair of
silver earrings for Anna. Hands were shaken, Luc’s purchases
wrapped in brown paper and securely taped, and the deal was done.
Luc walked back to the hotel feeling he’d just participated in a
win-win transaction.

Each night after dinner, Hilda spent a few
hours in an Internet cafe. Her smart phone had been stolen in
Algeciras, she explained, and she needed to catch up on her
correspondence. Luc had been using this alone time to wander the
streets on his own, but on their last evening in Marrakech, he
decided he needed to check his own mail. He walked to a cafe with
Hilda, sat down at a terminal beside her and logged into his
Hotmail account.

With a dry mouth and sweating palms he
watched his in-box fill with messages. He became aware of feeling
like his heart had lodged in his throat as a quick glance told him
that not a single message had anything to do with, or was from,
Joanna.

No. Why would there be? Fool!

He saw nothing worth opening except three
messages from Daniel. A sliver of guilt made him sit longer than he
wanted to as he dutifully composed a travelogue suitable for an
eight-year-old. After sending it, he glanced at Hilda. She was
typing furiously, oblivious to her surroundings.

“What are you composing there? A thesis?”

Not bothering to look at him, she said
matter-of-factly, “It’s a love letter to my husband.”

“Oh.” Something in her voice told him she
wasn’t kidding.

Shit! Of course she has a husband! And I
didn’t ask earlier, so why would she tell me?

Luc didn’t know what to think. He didn’t
really care that his traveling companion was a married woman. It
wasn’t like he was planning on seeing her again once their little
road trip ended. He just hadn’t expected her to be, well,
happily
married. She was pretty wild in the sack for someone
who was in love with her spouse.

All of a sudden he felt far too hot. The tiny
cafe was stifling, its ineffective little ceiling fans did nothing
but stir up the thick air. He signed off and said, “I need a
shower. I’m going to head back to the hotel. Will you be all right
on your own?”

“Always,” she said, flashing him a grin
without taking her eyes off the keyboard.

Chapter Nine

Over breakfast in their hotel’s dining room,
Brenda broke the news that she wouldn’t be able to accompany Jo and
Danny on their trip to Zahara and Grazalema.

“It’s that damned audit, sweetie. I’ve got
too much to do and it needs to be done yesterday.”

“Brenda!” Jo exclaimed, sneaking a look at
Danny to see how he was taking this development. He was innocently
sipping from his cup of coffee. “You’ve come all this way and
you’re going to miss the cutest part?”

“Well, someone’s gotta keep the wheels
rolling,” Brenda said with a neutral expression. “You two go
virgin-hunting on your own, and take a million pictures for
me.”

Jo caught the conspiratorial look exchanged
over the table. Then it registered.

I’m being set up!

For a moment she felt confused and a little
uncomfortable. But then she relaxed.

Is that really so bad?

She flashed Brenda a big smile and said,
“Well for the sake of the magazine I’ll do what I have to do, I
guess.” Then she slid her gaze to Danny and said, “I suppose we can
handle it on our own.”

He looked at her with a light in his eyes so
bright it almost eclipsed the sun. A little tingle in her belly
told her she felt the same way. She could feel herself growing more
feminine, more sensual, as she got up and walked back to her room
to get ready for whatever the day would throw at her.

Just as they were about to leave, Brenda ran
up to the car waving some papers. “Don’t forget about the virgins,”
she panted. “It’s a long shot, according to these sources, but
worth a look anyway.”

Jo took the information and Brenda slyly
slipped her a small foil package. Condoms.

“We’ve only got three more days,” Brenda said
meaningfully with a smirk. “Bye, now. Have fun!”

Jo felt herself flushing as she met Brenda’s
eye and slid the condoms into her bag. “Thanks, Bren. See you at
dinnertime.” Then she pretended to study the papers as Danny hit
the road.

It was about an hour’s drive to Grazalema,
and the roads were as bad as Danny had promised. But this time Jo
wasn’t bothered by motion-sickness.

She was too excited.

There was something tantalizingly naughty
about being alone with a handsome young Spaniard high in the
mountains, with nothing but cork oaks as far as she could see.
Theoretically, she was on the job, but all she had to do was keep
the photographer company and take a few notes. And they had hours
and hours to do that. They had all the time in the world.

Time and a packed picnic basket.

Danny said that lunch was going to be his
treat today. They were going to dine
al fresco
in a ruined
Moorish castle. Jo thought that sounded wonderful. The weather was
perfect and she felt rested and happy after her full night’s
sleep.

Grazalema was even more picturesque than
Arcos had been, and at about two thousand souls, much smaller. Like
the day before, Jo helped Danny set up his equipment for shots of
the town’s best buildings. While he worked she had plenty of time
to take some pictures of her own. The photographer was the subject
of most of them.

Now that they were alone together, Danny had
become more attentive to Jo. He held out his arm when the pavement
of the town’s ancient narrow streets grew rough, and she found
herself hanging onto him more than she needed to. It felt really
good to be supported by a man.

And when he took her hand to help her climb
steep steps or descend into dank vaults, she held onto it as long
as she could.

Throughout the morning he talked about his
family and how Spain’s economic collapse affected them. “No one has
any extra money for something as trivial as dance lessons,” he
explained. “So my father has had to fall back on substitute
teaching in schools. He hates it,” Danny added with a grin. “All
those little
bastardos
without any brains or manners.”

A wave of loss washed over Jo when she
thought about her own father. She remembered the stories of how he
had to take odd jobs to feed his young family while he was in
graduate school. Her eyes misted with tears. Through hard work and
a strong sense of responsibility to his wife and two little girls,
he had made a success of his business career. Jo was grateful for
the privileged lifestyle he’d given her.

And now he’s gone. Just like that. Life is so
short.

She looked around the dim interior of the
Parish Church of the Incarnation. No black virgins anywhere, but
she wasn’t concerned. Right now Danny was far more interesting to
her than any old paintings or statues. She watched him bending over
his camera, and fought off a crazy desire to put her hands on his
body. He would feel warm and firm and very strong.

Not here.
This isn’t the time or place.
Just wait. Be patient.

When he was finished with his shots of the
altar, he turned to Jo and said. “What about you? Tell me about
your family. Where do your parents live?”

To Jo’s horror, her eyes filled with tears.
She thought she was finished thinking about her father.

“Uh, well, my mother lives in Seattle, in our
family home. But my father’s just died,” she blurted and scrabbled
in her bag for a tissue.

“I’m so sorry,” Danny said as he stepped
closer and looked at her face. “When?”

“Just over a month ago. I guess I’m not used
to the idea yet.” She felt herself leaning towards the magnetic
masculine body beside her. She couldn’t help it.

He slid a warm brown arm over the back of her
shoulders and pulled her towards him in a gesture that was
somewhere between a hug and a sensual caress.

Her entire body leaped to attention. A man’s
touch was almost foreign to her now. And very, very fine.

“Thank you,” she said as she blotted her
eyes. “That’s one of the reasons Brenda brought me here. To get on
with things, you know?”

“I understand,” he said softly. “But I can’t
say I’m sorry about
that
.” He gave her a little smile and
squeezed her shoulder. “If you father hadn’t died I wouldn’t have
met you.”

He’s oh, so
smooth. And oh, so
sweet.

She leaned in just a little more, thinking
how easy it would be to turn her face up to his for a kiss. Instead
she smiled and broke away. “Are we done with this place? I could
use some lunch.”

The little Hilltown of Zahara was the
smallest of the White Villages, rising majestically above a pretty
blue lake. But Danny didn’t intend to stop for sightseeing quite
yet. As soon as he parked the car he hauled the picnic basket and a
blanket from the back and grabbed Jo by the hand.

“Come on! You have to work for your lunch,”
he teased, pulling her towards a steep stone path.

Jo could see the ruins at the top of the hill
and groaned. “You can’t be serious! You want me to climb all the
way up there on an empty stomach? In this heat?”

It was past one o’clock now, and the sun was
scorching. Luckily she had planned for it and worn a light cotton
sundress, but she could feel the sweat beginning to flow as a
laughing Danny helped her climb.

The views from the summit were worth the
work. Breathing hard, she took off her hat and looked at the vista
all around her. She wiped her wet forehead with the cotton scarf on
her hat. For a moment she thought of Luc’s red bandana, the one he
always wore while hiking, claiming it had so many practical uses
that everyone should carry one. But as soon as the memory popped
into her head she looked at Danny and forcefully pushed it
away.

That was then, and this is now. Seize the
moment.

Danny, too was breathing hard, and Jo could
see the damp patches under his arms. His T-shirt was snug, but not
too snug. His lightweight pants were loose only through the leg,
tighter at his narrow waist and across his dancer’s butt.

Perfect. He’s perfect for what I need right
now.

He saw her looking at his body and smiled.
“Did you say you were hungry?”

“Famished,” she said, smiling at being
caught, and helped him spread the blanket in a patch of shade
beside the crumbling stone of the old castle wall.

He’d taken some care in packing their lunch.
First he pulled out a bottle of white wine wrapped in a waterproof
bag of melted ice water.

“I think this is still cool,” he said as he
began to remove the cork. “It’s a Catalonian wine, a
Gran Vin~a
Sol.
I hope you like it.”

She couldn’t stop smiling at his earnestness
as he filled two plastic glasses and handed her one. “What shall we
drink to?” He raised his glass for a toast.