Riad Dubois: The Complete Romance Series Read online

  “Well, not really. But,” she decided to take a gamble, “what actually are you?”

  “A Frenchman representing his father’s interests here, in charge of everything that happens in this establishment and a lover of the good life," he said, putting the cat down before continuing in a more serious tone.

  "And you, Ms. Thomson, are a very patient lady. I heard about the row at your table. Your dining neighbors told me.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry if we disturbed them.”

  "You shouldn't allow that man to bully you. Definitely not to the point where you have to leave your meal unfinished.”

  “Well, this is possibly my last trip with him, and I can survive until we get back.” Louise took a sip of her wine.

  “And then?”

  “Then? Possibly a new job with a different team. The magazine owners are talking about doing something in France. Do you miss your home country?”

  The darkening of his face suggested this wasn’t a question he wanted to answer.

  The arrival of Ahmed saved him from answering and broke the tension.

  “I’m leaving now, Mr. Gilbert. Everything is organized for the morning.”

  “Thanks, Ahmed. See you in the morning.”

  When Ahmed had departed, Gilbert leaned forward confidentially.

  “You asked if I miss France. Of course, I do. It was not my decision to come here. But that was the hand life dealt with me. Now I am going to get you some decent wine. This has been standing for too long.”

  And taking her glass, he was gone, leaving a delicate scent of aftershave in his wake.

  When he returned, Louise had her green wrap around her shoulders and had found a blanket to cover her knees.

  “Cold?” Gilbert asked, placing the wine bottle and glasses on the table. “Nights can be chilly here.”

  “Yes, a bit cold. But where is that music coming from?” She raised a finger to indicate the direction of the sound.

  “Djemaa El Fna, the local square. You haven’t been there yet? The musicians play there until dawn.”

  With a wicked grin, he continued, "You might get a better night's sleep in my quarters. It's quieter there." He seemed to remember something and suddenly looked more serious. “Apologies, please forgive me. I only meant it as a joke.”

  Strangely, Louise wasn’t offended. Even more strangely, she was enjoying his company. Could she have been wrong? Could Emma have been right when she had said not all men were like her ex or even like Joshua?

  "No offense taken." She took the proffered wine, tapping her fingers to the beat of the music.

  "Perhaps you should get to see some of the real-life of Marrakesh for your work, how people here really live away from the glitz and glamour of the tourist trail.”

  “Yes, that’s what I’d like to do. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Have coffee with me in the morning. There is a local coffee shop close by. I can give you some ideas then,” he smiled expansively. “You will need a guide to see some of the more interesting places.”

  “OK. What time?”

  “Meet me here at eleven?”

  “Thanks,” she got to her feet, "in that case, I had better do some more work before I turn in.”

  "Leaving so soon? In that case, good night, Madame."

  Standing as well, he kissed her in the French fashion, first one cheek, then the other. His light stubble brushed her face, that subtle scent tantalizingly close.

  He sat there for a long time after she had gone, savoring his wine, Moustache purring on his lap. Eventually, he took out his cell phone and rang Ahmed. Ahmed, who had stood by him through every crisis since his arrival at the Riad.

  “Ahmed,” he said when he answered the phone. “I think I am falling in love.”

  “Again? This is becoming too much of a habit. I presume with the lady in green as you call her?”

  "Yes, the lady in green. But Ahmed, this time, it is going to be for real."

  “It always is. Goodnight, my boy. See you in the morning.”

  Chapter 3

  Joshua was hammering on her bedroom door before Louise had properly awoken. She had worked late and organized herself for her research in Marrakesh. She had even laid out her clothes for the day ahead before succumbing to sleep.

  Stretching luxuriously in the bed, she contemplated answering Joshua's summons but decided against it. A text message telling him she had other work to do should keep him happy, and if not, so what? She would not allow him to ruin this trip.

  A new sense of empowerment propelled her out of bed. This was the kind of work she liked doing, writing about people and their cultures. She had spent too much of this trip writing about tombs and monuments. And of course, her first meeting of the day would be with Gilbert.

  “Stop fooling yourself, Louise,” she chided herself as she rifled through her case for jewelry that would work with a gypsy skirt. “Is it the work or the guide you are really interested in?”

  Downstairs, all was quiet. The receptionist was bent over a pile of papers on her desk. The clatter of dishes told her she had missed breakfast. Grabbing a coffee from a side table, Louise found the door to the courtyard.

  When Gilbert arrived, he looked different from the night before. Dressed in off-duty chinos and a colorful shirt, the heavy bags under his eyes spoke of a sleepless night.

  “Ready to go?” he asked as he reached Louise. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, and you?” Louise began, only to be distracted by raised voices coming from the lobby.

  “Excuse me. I need to attend to something. Please wait here.” He was gone as quickly as he had arrived and was replaced by Ahmed.

  "Ms. Thomson, Mr. Gilbert, will be ten or so minutes. Something has occurred. I will get you a fresh coffee while you are waiting.”

  “Is everything OK?” Louise raised her head from her notepad when Gilbert returned.

  “Yes, of course! Just a difficult guest. Let’s go.”

  Despite Gilbert’s relaxed demeanor, Louise couldn’t help but feel something was still wrong. However, the inner workings of the Riad were none of her concern, and she was sure he had it under control.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted them when they entered the café. Inside was dim lighting, leather couches, and a group of men enjoying their cigarettes at the counter.

  “Let’s sit away from the tobacco smoke," with a hand under her elbow; Gilbert steered her towards a quiet corner.

  “Now, let’s have breakfast while I tell you what to really see here if you want to give an authentic report.”

  An hour later, Louise had pages full of notes, her head filled with the names of souks and the merchants who plied their trade, the entertainers who filled the square at night, and which places to avoid.

  “You have to see this place at night. Nothing opens until 5 pm. Tonight I will take you there. I will be your tour guide.” Again, that wicked grin, “We have to keep Prestigio magazine people happy.”

  What did he mean? Was he just helping her to gain publicity for his business? Was she reading too much into his offer to show her around?

  “You have been out of this scene for too long, Louise,” she advised herself before accepting his offer.

  The firm hand at her back as they left the Riad that evening spoke more of friendship than of a professional meeting. Maybe even more than friendship, she considered as she felt his fingers stroking the thin material of her dress. A shortcut through an alleyway, and they were in the square. She had seen places like this in movies and read about them in her guidebook, but nothing had prepared her for the sights and sounds that now engulfed her.

  Gilbert laughed aloud as he watched her eyes widen.

  "Wait until you see the snake charmers and fortune-tellers," he laid an arm across her shoulders, guiding her through the crowds and to the center of the square.

  "Here," he said, bringing her to a halt before two women working under their umbrellas. "You have to get a hen
na tattoo on your ankle."

  "I insist," he laughed at her, hesitation, "it's mandatory!"

  “What will the lady have?” the tattoo artist called out.

  "She will have a rose; a rose with some thorns!"

  Sat down with her foot planted on the low stool, Louise turned to smile at him.

  “This is fun.”

  “It is,” she felt a gentle kiss on her head. “And you have yet to see the snake charmers and storytellers, and we can have a candlelit dinner at the restaurant over there.”

  She followed his pointing finger to the restaurant tucked discreetly into a corner of the square.

  When the tattoo was finished, and he was helping her on with her sandal, Gilbert heard the sharp intake of her breath as his fingers brushed her skin.

  Placing his arm across her shoulders again, he guided her deeper into the square, feeling her drawing closer, her perfume mingling with the scents of oils and flowering plants around them. He told her about the history of the square, the best souks to shop at, what to look out for and how to avoid being knocked over by the array of vehicles crossing the square.

  "The tagline is especially good here,” he advised as she pulled her chair closer to the table in the restaurant. “That and their excellent red wine.”

  She smiled over the candles at him. “Everything here is good, even the snake charmers.”

  He laughed, remembering how she had squealed when the first snake raised its swaying head over the basket.

  Reaching across the table, he took her hand. "I enjoyed showing you around. There are other places we can visit during your stay."

  She surprised him by returning the pressure on his outstretched hand. “That sounds good to me.”

  By the time the waiter came with the bill, they had changed seats and were sitting side by side on the couch overlooking the square, her head resting on his shoulder, shafts of moonlight lighting up the scene before them.

  “Shall we go back?” Gilbert asked, handing the dirhams to the waiter.

  “Yes,” she nodded, reaching for her wrap.

  In the Riad gardens, he pulled her close, brushing her lips softly with his.

  “Would you like to come to my room?”

  “Yes, but not tonight … not tonight.”

  He looked down at her upturned face, noting once again the yellow flecks in her eyes.

  “Maybe another night?”

  “Maybe,” she hesitated. “Yes, yes … another night,” she added, before skipping ahead of him into the Riad.

  Chapter 4

  Louise took her laptop to breakfast. Passing reception, she got a knowing smile from the girl on the desk, a smile that said Gilbert's interest in her hadn't gone unnoticed. Returning the smile, Louise reminded herself that this was something that no longer worried her.

  In the dining room, Emma and Joshua were already at their table; laptops open as they planned the day's work. Slipping in beside them, Louise prepared to join the discussion.

  “So, Louise, what do you have to do today?” Joshua had pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up onto his forehead.

  "I have to get the write-ups to London. Have you sent in the photographs already?”

  “Yes. Emma and I will do the new city, the Ville Nouvelle. This evening we will do the report on this place. You can organize that, Louise?”

  “Sure,” Louise thought he was strangely subdued, maybe he was finding the searing temperatures too much. Already the sun was high in the cloudless sky.

  “A day for the library,” she thought to herself. There she could catch up on the work she had fallen behind on.

  “We had better go, get started,” Joshua wiped his forehead with his napkin. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can return to the UK, see some real rain.”

  “Return to the UK?” Louise thought as they left. That was something she would have to consider carefully. After a month in a warm climate, seeing how different life could be, she did not know if she wanted to return to the rain and grey skies of life in the Welsh valleys. Finishing her croissant, she decided to focus on the issue later; work came first.

  Slamming her laptop shut hours later, Louise was finally free to do some serious thinking. The morning had been uneventful, only a few people coming to the library for a book, Gilbert’s secretary excusing herself as she passed through to the office. Of Gilbert himself, there had been no sign.

  Her chin cupped in her hand; she decided to take her usual approach when a problem had to be solved. This called for pen and paper and lists of pros and cons. She was busy scribbling when the door opened, and Ahmed entered carrying coffee and pastries.

  “Ms. Thomson, I thought you might need these,” he placed the tray on the table next to her. “Mr. Gilbert asked me to tell you he has business in town. He will be back later.”

  “Thanks, Ahmed.”

  “You take care of yourself, Miss.”

  He left quietly, leaving Louise wondering why he felt she should take care of herself.

  Returning to her notes, she felt strangely disappointed. A part of her had been hoping to see Gilbert that morning. A part of her had been telling her to steer clear, reminding her that she could get hurt. That was the part her friend would say she needed to listen to.

  Nothing for it then but to chat with Helen. They hadn't spoken in a week, but before she called, she had to send an email to her boss in London.

  Entering the courtyard holding her coffee and mobile phone, she slipped off her sandals to step over the sleeping Moustache and walked across the warm tiles. Looking at the henna tattoo on her ankle, she knew she was doing the right thing. Even without Gilbert, staying on in Marrakesh for a few months was the right decision to make. This was what she needed after the turmoil of the past few years. Helen would not be very happy at hearing her news, but it was time to make her own choices, build her new life on her own terms.

  “You what?!” Louise held the phone away from her ears as Helen screamed at her in disbelief.

  “I’ve decided to stay in Morocco for another three months after this project is finished,” Louise repeated patiently. “I’ve initiated negotiations with the magazine to work remotely or take a leave of absence.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I just have,” answered Louise, glad she had sent that email before making the call. “Helen, believe me − I am stronger now. Getting back to work, taking on this project was just what I needed.”

  “You aren’t telling me everything. There’s a romantic interest there somewhere.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Well, I am coming out. I will find you as soon as I can get a flight over there.”

  “Helen, please don’t … ” the line went dead.

  Decisions made, Louise dipped a toe in the pool. This might work out. With or without Helen's blessing, she was prepared to give it a try. With Gilbert? She involuntarily crossed her fingers, remembering the scent of his aftershave in her nostrils, the light brush of his lips on hers, his hands on her hips, the promise of going to his room the next night.

  ***

  Yes, she was going to go for it, it had been too long. Moustache rubbed against her ankles as if in agreement.

  The call to prayer from the distant muezzin reminded her that she still had meetings with the chefs to organize. Recipes would have to be collected to tempt her readers, and some photos of herbs and spices could be taken on her phone. Going deep into the bowels of the Riad, she was surprised that Gilbert was nowhere to be seen. She had thought he kept a sharp eye on everything that happened here.

  At least Joshua had laid the groundwork for her visit to the kitchens. She had to admit that he was a good organizer. She smiled as she realized she was praising the man. Well, he did have his good points, even if they were well hidden most of the time.

  A sheaf of notes in her hand, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchens, Louise entered the library an hour later. While preparing to type up her work on the laptop, rai
sed voices from the lobby disturbed her. Looking at her watch, she realized she had heard the same sound at the same time the previous day. Did aggrieved customers really return on consecutive days? She focused on her work until the sounds became louder, making concentration impossible. She had to see what was happening, although an inner voice told her it was none of her concern.

  Entering the lobby, she stopped short at the sight of Gilbert at reception, his hands deep in his pockets, a red-faced young woman challenging him. With her high school French, she could only grasp a little of what was being said. The words "cheated," "unfaithful," and “disloyal” reached her ears. Was this woman accusing Gilbert of cheating? Did this man who had been so loving to her already have a woman, a woman he had treated badly? Feeling a sharp stab of pain, Louise put her hand to her chest.

  Footsteps behind her caused her to spin around. It was Ahmed. Putting a hand under her elbow, he said, “Come with me to the library, Miss, you don’t need to hear this.”

  “But Ahmed,” looking back over her shoulder, she saw that Gilbert had spotted her.

  “Come along, Miss.”

  In the library, he guided her back to her chair.

  “Madam, he is a silly boy, but he is in love with you.” Ahmed’s gentle voice brought tears to her eyes, and she hastily dug a tissue out of her purse.

  “Not love, Ahmed, it’s not love when you pretend you’re free to love someone. You know, Ahmed, I have just committed myself to staying in Morocco when our work here is finished. Not just to be with Gilbert, but to be here,” she twisted the tear-stained tissue around her fingers.

  “Did he ask you to do that?”

  She shook her head, mutely.

  “He has that effect on people,” Ahmed said grimly.

  Chapter 5

  “You’ve blown it this time, my boy. Seriously blown it,” was Ahmed’s greeting when Gilbert entered the office. “Has that woman been sent on her way?”

  “Yes,” Gilbert rubbed a hand across his forehead. “You know I finished with her.”