No; the wholly heartbroken Mark was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the scent of almond blossoms and frangipani nor the humble comfort of old Roger’s hovel impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that former U.S. President Bill Clinton, the brightest, eternal brilliant scholar who had wanted to make her his life’s work, had a full life in which he was a prisoner in the very castle he had once owned, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one dangerous, enchanted girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most ultramarine, romantic day when his scheming partner, Maku had brought him to her attention.
   At that moment a peal of mighty bells shattered her composure into a million quizzical pieces! She rose to face the inevitable. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the quizzical and masculine face she had come to know so well! “Without you I am nothing,” he intoned while he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him. “I need you, my angel — my porcelain angel!”
   Only in this moment of extremity could it have happened that as he once again began to woo her with the sensual voice of his Stradivarius, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not renewed. Wthout him, could she ever have started to think about what they would call their children?