Chapter 6
Tilly had found the proximity to Angus disconcerting enough when he’d been in the passenger seat of her mother’s SUV.
Sitting in the passenger seat of the little red sports car – without the distraction of having to focus on driving – was a whole new level of intimacy that was more than disconcerting. This was downright disturbing.
The fabric roof reminded Tilly of the canopy of a four-poster bed. The seats were so low it felt as if her bottom was dangerously close to brushing the road surface. With the vibration of the engine and the speed with which the countryside was flashing past, it was…
…thrilling, that’s what it was, she had to admit, but it was also definitely out of her comfort zone.
She was sitting so low that she had to look up to see over that long bonnet to where the headlights were illuminating the road ahead, and the backs of the seats were reclined enough to feel as if she was almost lying down.
In a bed.
With Angus McLeod?
Ohh… why did that give her a sensation that was rather like the flutter of small wings in her belly?
She was completely over being attracted to this man.
She might feel sorry for him and she had agreed to accompany him on his holiday as a guide but she didn’t like him.
They had nothing at all in common apart from preferring steak to fish.
He hated everything that she celebrated as the best life had to offer and, in retrospect, to have thought of him as a Prince Charming was laughable.
At least the awkwardness of meeting in the middle of the night in a hotel car park was wearing off.
The soft holdall that Angus had advised her to bring as her only luggage was tucked into the cramped boot space along with his.
Her satchel was stuffed behind her seat.
His neatly folded navy blazer was behind the driver’s seat.
With the heater on, the interior of the car was quite warm but Tilly was pleased that she’d chosen to wear jeans, with a cardigan over her top for extra protection from the early morning chill.
Angus was wearing the same camel-coloured chinos he’d had on yesterday, and was it another white shirt under the half-zip, also navy-blue, sweater?
He was focussed on his driving, clearly getting used to changing the gears and feeling the response of the car on corners.
Tilly was happy with the silence. She was getting used to how it felt to be in this metal cocoon herself and she could sense when Angus began to relax and the ride became smoother.
Controlled.
She was the one to break the silence in the end.
‘Do you like the car?’
‘I do.’
‘Good.’
It wasn’t much in the way of a conversation but it seemed to leave them both satisfied, with no need to force further communication.
Tilly let herself sink a little deeper into the soft leather of her seat.
She felt safe, she realised. She trusted his driving and…
and she trusted that she was safe with him as a companion.
The way he’d opened the car door for her and waited for her to put her safety belt on before closing it told her that he was a gentleman.
His conservative but contemporary choice of clothing added to that impression and she really liked his choice of luggage.
Her beloved messenger satchel fitted right in with the same old-school appreciation of necessities that were built to last rather than being flashy.
Something else they had in common, perhaps? Tilly felt like she had a wry smile on her face even though she knew her lips hadn’t moved. Maybe they would even be friends by the end of this week.
The softening of darkness that came with approaching dawn made the distinctive silhouette of Gordes, perched on the top of a hillside, easily recognisable.
‘We’re nearly there,’ Tilly said, checking the satnav on her phone.
‘We need to watch for the vineyard sign. Someone should be waiting in the car park with a four-wheel drive vehicle to take us to the balloon launch field but, if we’re there first, we have to park in the permitted area at the far end near a stream. ’
A ground crew vehicle was waiting for them and, a short time later, they were watching the mouth of an enormous balloon, attached to a basket that was lying on its side, being held open as a giant fan pushed air into the envelope with remarkable speed.
Their pilot, Roy, gave them a briefing as they watched, blankets draped around their shoulders.
‘There are internal handles you can hold when we take off. Make sure all loose items are secured and please don’t lean over the side of the basket. You can take photos but keep your phone secure and be careful if you are holding it above your head. The heat from the burner can be strong.’
As if to emphasise the safety warning the burner was switched on for the first time and an impressive burst of flames shot into the balloon to add heat to the air.
Moments later it began to lift from the ground and then the basket was tilting into being upright, the light from the next flame making the balloon’s vertical rainbow stripes even brighter.
Ground crew were hanging on to the basket and the ropes that were tethering the craft to the ground.
The level of Tilly’s excitement was lifting as well.
She had watched countless hot-air balloons drifting across the skies and had booked tickets for many other couples over the years, but she’d never been inside one herself.
She couldn’t help a thoroughly delighted grin as she was helped into the basket first and then turned to watch Angus swing his leg over the side and climb onboard.
This might not be allowed to be as romantic as had been intended but nothing was going to stop it being absolutely amazing.
* * *
She looked like a small child on Christmas morning, staring at the twinkling lights of a tree that had been magically surrounded by a pile of presents during the night. As if it didn’t really matter what was inside the brightly coloured parcels because this was exciting enough all on its own.
Angus was suddenly taking a step back in time.
Remembering a Christmas morning when he’d felt that excited.
Not by the usual treats of chocolate oranges or a new bicycle or the books he’d put on his list for Santa.
He could still vividly catch a glimpse of his father coming into the drawing room of their Georgian townhouse with a wriggling black bundle of puppy in his arms. Angus was five years old and it was the first time he’d felt the power of utter astonishment and then excitement and then a love strong enough be overwhelming.
Robbie…
He could still feel the grief of losing his beloved companion fourteen years later, too.
He’d blamed himself for leaving home to go to university because he’d been convinced Robbie had died from a broken heart, thinking that he’d been abandoned.
He’d never even tried to replace Robbie and the idea that he would one day be able to relive that excitement through the eyes of his own child when he gave them the most precious gift possible was on a back burner again, thanks to the disaster in his personal life.
Maybe the anticipated pleasure of this balloon ride that the planning had created was not something he was about to experience, either.
It was a rather undignified start to have to climb into what looked like an oversized shopping basket.
At least the roar of the burner meant that there was no need to make conversation.
It might even cover any squeaks of excitement that Tilly looked like she could make at any moment.
But Tilly didn’t make a sound. Like him, she was watching some of the ground crew doing things with ropes, and others already in the chase vehicle heading for the gate in the field’s hedge, ready to follow the path of the balloon wherever the winds might dictate they went.
And then, without feeling it happen, the ground began to drop away beneath them.
Between the bursts of flame that sent a wave of warmth into the basket, there was a silence that was quite profound in this early morning stillness.
It felt windless but, as the balloon gained height, Angus could see that they were drifting, ever so slowly – probably only at a walking pace – towards the village on the mountain top.
Over the still misty line of hills in the distance the blinding glow of the rising sun was beginning to send visible rays, like giant fingers, out to touch the landscape below them and gild the eastern side of the stone buildings that looked as though they were set in a spiral, layers of them, coating the hill.
Like icing on a cake, Angus noted drily, but despite the personal reference to how he felt about the analogy, this view didn’t have to be seen as romantic.
They were gliding over a patch of history, that was all, and he could appreciate the sense of travelling back in time.
This was the perfect form of transport to enjoy the tiled terracotta roofs with chimneys and balconies.
He could see people starting their day, like a housewife who was already pegging washing to a line, and he could briefly even hear the puttering of a Vespa heading down one of the roads until it was drowned out by the burst of the burner.
Now they were floating over the massive building that sat on the top of the hill like a crown for this medieval village.
‘Do you know how old the castle is?’ he asked Tilly.
She jerked her head up from where she’d been peering over the edge of the basket and turned swiftly, her gaze startled.
She’d been lost in a dream of her own and Angus could be quite sure it had been far more romantic than any kind of history lesson.
He felt as if he was disturbing her personal enjoyment but he wasn’t going to feel guilty.
He was employing her as his guide, after all.