Chapter 5 #2
‘It’s a wine made in the same way as champagne but it can’t be called champagne because it comes from a different region and the name is protected by the rules of appellation.’ Tilly smiled. ‘And it’s often very, very good but much, much cheaper. Your DNA will appreciate that, oui?’
Angus laughed.
A real laugh. Like the one she’d heard over the phone, only this one was so much better because she could see his face as well as hear the rich sound.
She could see the way some of those deep lines softened – as if he was escaping, just for a moment, from the weight of disappointment and rejection that he was carrying on his shoulders.
Tilly had given him that moment and that made it a thing of joy.
* * *
The unexpected amusement that had made him laugh had changed something and it felt… significant.
She had just finished translating a conversation with the waiter who’d come to take their order and it seemed that there was quite a choice of the types of sauce their steaks could be adorned with.
The classic was peppercorn sauce but there was also Béarnaise, with butter and tarragon, Roquefort, with strong cheese, and bordelaise.
‘It has red wine and shallot and… what is the soft stuff in the middle of bones?’
‘Marrow?’
‘Oui. Merci. Marrow.’ Tilly was smiling as she gave a chef’s kiss. ‘Tellement délicieux.’
Angus didn’t normally have sauce added to anything.
It was messy and came with the risk of splashing clothing.
But listening to Tilly describe the sauces, with an accent that was so different to his own it seemed like her words were coated with the literary equivalent of a creamy sauce, made him want to taste one.
One that had once been a favourite.
‘Do they do a mushroom sauce?’
Tilly had a short, rapid conversation with the waiter. ‘Yes,’ she told Angus. ‘They do a very good sauce with champignons de Paris, the ordinary mushrooms, but also with cremini, the brown ones, and some forest varieties too.’
They chose different sauces. He ordered the mushroom and Tilly the bordelaise.
‘You’ll have to taste mine,’ Tilly said, with a smile.
Oh, Lord… why did that sound so suggestive?
Because, on some level, he wanted it to?
There was more to Tilly than being an attractive woman with a very feminine passion for romance.
It seemed that she was a kind and caring person.
She hadn’t made him feel at all ignorant about the gaps in his knowledge of wine and French appellation rules.
Given his little tirade that had revealed his aversion to all things romantic, she probably realised he had no interest in something as fizzy and iconic as champagne or its close relatives.
She had also remembered his tongue-in-cheek reference to a Scottish heritage and prudence when it came to spending money.
Tongue in cheek.
Angus took a sip of his excellent Merlot.
He was pretending to admire the unusual fountain covered with some kind of growth but he was actually remembering the way Tilly had literally put her tongue in her cheek when she was trying not to offend him by saying she didn’t want to drink red wine.
And that face she’d made – like a child who’d been caught in the pantry stealing a Jammie Dodger.
Maybe that was what he sensed about this woman.
Not vulnerability but innocence. Optimism.
A determination to see only the best in everything and everyone.
Her dress seemed to confirm the new layer of his impression of Tilly.
She’d chosen to wear the colour of sunshine and it suited her perfectly.
She’d unravelled her hair from that braid as well and he’d seen it move like a dark waterfall that reached her waist when she’d first taken her seat at their table.
She was, he realised, more than simply attractive. She was stunning.
Not that Angus had any intention of hitting on her. Good God, no! That would be totally inappropriate and he wasn’t remotely interested.
Okay, that wasn’t true. What man in his right mind wouldn’t be interested in this gorgeous woman?
But he didn’t do casual sex. The inherent risks, like getting someone pregnant, catching an unpleasant disease or giving them the idea that he was opening a door to a significant relationship, had always overruled any flash of lust.
Why was he even thinking about it? Angus abandoned his perusal of the fountain and turned back as a waiter approached the table with their food.
Tilly’s innocent, childlike ability to be optimistic and find joy in even the smallest things might be exactly what Angus needed in a companion at the moment. Someone who had a completely different outlook on life.
Perhaps people were attracted to their opposites because it offered the potential of balance in life.
Angus could believe that. His work was all about balance. The ends of the scale with risk on one side and consequence on the other. It was his job to analyse the weight of each side and adjust the balance. To do his best to reduce any negative consequences.
Sometimes a small risk could be tolerated but only if the odds were weighted towards what could be gained.
Like eating sauce, even though he was wearing a white shirt.
The simple meal was surprisingly delicious.
The steak, served on a rustic wooden board, with a side salad, was mouth-wateringly tender – the char on the outside a caramelised crust but the inside the blushing pink of a perfect medium-rare.
The hand-cut chips, served in a metal basket to share, stayed crisp and hot on the table between them.
They ate in a companionable silence for some time.
‘You must try this.’ Tilly finally held up a small bowl of the sauce she had ordered. ‘It’s so good.’
Angus contemplated using a chip but then tore a piece off one of the slices of baguette on his board. He reached out and dipped the bread and, as he did so, his hand brushed Tilly’s fingers and he almost dropped the bread into the sauce.
What the hell was that?
It had felt like some kind of static electricity. Angus could feel goosebumps forming on his skin but there was no reason for it to have built up enough to discharge – no significant movement, no synthetic materials that he could see. And it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Not at all.
It was just… different. Something he’d never felt before. Tilly didn’t seem to have noticed because Angus was watching her as he put the piece of bread into his mouth.
And she was watching him. She licked her lips as she saw him tasting what she knew was delicious, and the sight of the tip of her tongue did something very peculiar to a part of Angus’s body that he hadn’t known existed.
Something deep that had been well hidden until now.
Something potentially dangerous? The stirring of something best left undisturbed?
He swallowed his mouthful, nodding slowly, to let her know that he had enjoyed it. Then he picked up his serviette and wiped his lips, in case some sauce had escaped.
‘So…’ He was holding Tilly’s gaze. Or perhaps she was holding his? ‘Is this when I can ask you to come with me again?’
Tilly’s face was unreadable.
‘Yes,’ she said.
His lips twitched. He respected that she wasn’t a pushover.
‘Will you accompany me on my holiday, Mathilde? As my guide and companion?’
‘On one condition,’ Tilly said.
‘Which is?’
‘That you do not call me Mathilde. You sound like the headmaster of my school when I was in trouble. Again.’
The very idea that a young Tilly could be some kind of troublemaker gave Angus another, inexplicable, shaft of a sensation he had no ability to name. This time, though, he could identify notes in what had to be a complex mix. There was curiosity there. And amusement.
He kept his face straight. ‘Agreed,’ he said.
As long as you’re not in trouble, he added silently.
‘Have you had enough to eat?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
He had eaten more than he probably should of what had been a very enjoyable meal, but for some reason they both reached for a last frite at the same time and their hands met over the top of the basket.
Skin on skin again.
That crackle. Again, although it wasn’t as strong this time.
Maybe Tilly had felt it, too? Was that why they both pulled back, avoiding eye contact?
‘We should go,’ Tilly said. ‘We have a very early start tomorrow.’
Angus put his hand up to signal to the waiter for the bill.
‘I’ll meet you at the hotel,’ she added. ‘At 4.30 a.m.’
‘I’ll be ready.’
He was, he decided, walking back to his hotel a few minutes later, ready for anything.
A phrase that he had never heard leave his lips was suddenly right there, just waiting to escape.
Bring it on…