Page 67 of Afraid to Hope

“Hold on a minute,” Bane said, leaving her alone outside the dining room for several minutes before returning to Natasha and giving her a quick kiss. “Just checking in with Imsen. The other guests are European and American, so no issues with eating as you wish.”

Confident they were the only people in the area, Natasha planted a lingering kiss on Bane’s lips. “That was sweet. I like you, Bane Rua.”

“Mm. That feels full of promise,” he said with a sly smile. His phone vibrated. Emmet. “Yes?” Bane nodded as he listened. “Okay. I’ll tell Natasha.” He disconnected. “Change of plans, sweetheart. Chatter has picked up. We leave for Tinghir after breakfast tomorrow and meet our contact in the evening.”

Natasha and Bane were the last to arrive for dinner. She had opted for pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He wore khakis and a striped button-down, the rolled-up sleeves exposing his strong forearms. Seeing them reminded her how safe and cherished she felt when he held her.

Bane linked his little finger with Natasha’s before entering the dining area and inclined his head, brushing her earlobe before murmuring, “And we’re on.”

Natasha smiled demurely, then made a point to look each of the five people seated around the table in the eye when what she really wanted to do was to go back to the room with him and experience the delicious sparks growing into fiery passion. “Good evening.”

“Hello. I’m Bane, and this is Natasha. My wife.”

Dinner was subdued at first, gradually becoming more animated as the guests shared the divine meal and navigated each other.

The fit, middle-aged man and woman—Felix, a gamba fisherman, and his wife Aurora—were a married couple from the Catalan region of Spain on holiday exploring, as they put it, the gems of Morocco. They were leaving with a local guide well before dawn and had been promised a spectacular sunrise from the top ofJebel Kandar.They wore cargo pants and long-sleeved travel shirts and looked so similar in height, weight, build, and hair and eye color that they could have been mistaken for siblings.

Loris, a widower, was in Morocco for business and had decided to travel to Fes before leaving. Dressed in khakis and a pale green button-down, he had extended his trip an additional week to hike in the Atlas and visit Ifrane—a small town that reminded him of his home country of Switzerland—and Bhalil. He was driving back to Rabat the next day to fly home.

The two Americans were the youngest, having recently graduated college. They sported unkempt beards, unruly hair, and the overconfidence of the spoiled and entitled. They were eagerly forthcoming about themselves without being asked. The guesthouse provided beer and wine with the meal, which Natasha and Bane declined. The young men took full advantage though, drinking beer after beer until they noticed Bane’s frown directed at them.

Zach Cokinos, the dark-haired one, was dressed in a short-sleeved shirt covered in blue and pink whales and seersucker shorts. He had majored in African studies and was enrolled in a postgraduate program in South Africa the coming semester. Connor Ritman, his blond cousin, had studied business and economics and wore long athletic shorts and an orange-and-blue T-shirt emblazoned with the name of a microbrewery. Their parents had gifted them with travel preceding Zach’s internship and graduate school and Connor’s promise to seek employment as soon as he and his cousin settled in Cape Town. The young men were flying to Egypt and spending a few weeks there, then visiting Zambia and Tanzania before getting situated in their new home base.

With dinner complete, Aurora and Felix and Loris bid Natasha and Bane good night. The young Americans disappeared without saying anything.

“It’s a beautiful night. Let’s sit outside for a while by the pool,” Natasha said.

Bane helped her stand. “I’m up for that. You interested in a glass of wine if it’s available? I’ll check with Imsen.”

“I’ll meet you outside.” Natasha headed toward the outdoor terrace where she made herself comfortable on the double chaise on the pool deck, pulling her shawl around her. She was transfixed by Bhalil as it glimmered in the distance, growing brighter as the last of the sunset faded and the smoky-soft edges of the Atlas disappeared into the starlit inky-blue sky.

Two beers in one hand and Natasha’s wine in the other, Bane checked himself before stepping outside. Natasha was an ethereal vision, illuminated in the soft glow of starlight. Her body was languid—long limbs stretched out in front, arms relaxed over the thin shawl, head resting on the top of the chaise, her glorious hair tumbling over the back as she gazed at the rising full moon and blanket of twinkling silver sequins overhead. He recalled that first night on the rooftop terrace and how he had worshipped her exquisite and responsive body. Their lovemaking was tumultuous and unpredictable. He craved her constantly, if only to be in her presence.

Noise and movement from Bane’s right drew his focus away from Natasha. He scowled. The American cousins, dressed in swim trunks with towels over their shoulders. Each of them carried a partial six-pack of beer, apparently their personal stash. They hailed Natasha before pulling chairs close to her and sitting.

Grimacing, Bane strode to the pool with his and Natasha’s drinks, resigned he would have to share her a little longer tonight.

“Here, sweetheart,” he said, stepping between Zach and Connor and Natasha, extending the wine to her, then addressing the young men cordially. “Gentlemen.”

She patted the chaise and curled up her legs so that he had plenty of room next to her. “Sit, babe.” She took a sip. “Nice. Tastes French.”

Babe. That was new, and hearing it roll off her tongue did wild things to his heart and head. Bane set the extra bottle on the deck and took a deep pull on his open bottle. “Um. Yeah. Imsen thought you might enjoy it.”

Natasha kissed Bane her thanks, then addressed the cousins jointly. “You mentioned Cape Town at dinner. I lived there for a while. Where do you plan on living?”

“Really?” Zach asked, animated. “UCT area. Do you know it?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the University of Cape Town.”

“Where else have you lived?”

Natasha took another sip of wine before answering. “I’ve been roaming the world most of my adult years, working here and there.”

“Why are you in Morocco?”

“We’re combining our honeymoon with my work,” she explained, resting against Bane’s broad shoulder.

Connor raised his beer and toasted Natasha and Bane. “Congratulations!” he slurred.

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