Chapter 11
The sharp, alarmed-sounding shriek of a bird woke Tilly with a jolt the next morning.
She felt an echo of that alarm as she found herself staring into a pair of dark blue eyes, only inches away from her on the other pillow.
‘It’s just a falcon,’ Angus said softly. Reassuringly. ‘A peregrine. I know that cry. My father and I used to take Robbie walking in the Trossachs and we’d watch the falcons circling overhead.’
‘Oh…’ Tilly let the air escape from her lungs. It felt like memories of last night were circling over the bed right now but they didn’t feel anything like as dangerous as birds of prey. ‘Robbie?’
‘My dog. He was a Christmas present when I was a wee lad and he was…’ Tilly could see the muscles in Angus’s throat move as he swallowed. ‘He was the best dog in the world.’
Who would have thought that this reserved, controlled man would look all misty over the memory of a dog?
Tilly could feel something melting inside her chest and, without thinking, she snuggled a little closer and tucked her head into the hollow of his shoulder.
Angus might not be remotely romantic but he was quite capable of feeling true love, wasn’t he?
Tilly had to concede that that was rather a big tick on any checklist she had for men.
She might have to add another box after last night. Or maybe not. She had the feeling that she might never find another man who could live up to the standard of lovemaking that Angus McLeod had made her realise existed.
She could feel his breath on her hair as he spoke again.
‘About last night…’
Tilly caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Had Angus seen what she was thinking before she hid her face on his chest? Or could he, too, sense what was swirling in the air around this bed?
‘You need to know that I don’t normally approve of sex that’s not in the context of a committed relationship.’
Tilly was trying to translate the implications of what was being said as much as its meaning.
‘It was… a surprise,’ she offered. ‘For both of us, I think.’
There was a moment’s silence and then Angus cleared his throat. ‘A nice surprise,’ he said.
Tilly could feel her cheeks going pink. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Very nice.’
‘It’s not as if it can be part of a committed relationship, of course,’ Angus continued. ‘But there’s something different about being here. Being on holiday.’
‘I understand,’ Tilly said. ‘You are only here for a few days. And…’
‘And…?’ Angus prompted.
And it was the same for her. Taking any kind of a detour into a road that was very clearly signposted as a dead end purely to have sex was something she would never have considered an acceptable thing to be doing.
Until now.
Now that she knew what she’d been missing out on.
She lifted her head. And smiled. ‘Ce qui se passe à Provence reste en Provence,’ she said.
Angus smiled back. ‘Quite.’ He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead that felt like a promise for what the rest of the day was going to bring. ‘Shall we get dressed?’ he asked. ‘Before Marie or Monique make an appearance?’
* * *
After the chaos of the previous day, Angus was pleasantly surprised to find things going very smoothly so far on this, the third day of his solo proposal holiday.
Okay… it couldn’t be considered solo at all. Especially after a night of the most extraordinary sex he’d ever experienced.
But that had been dealt with in the most satisfactory manner.
Tilly was not only on the same page about casual sex being less than acceptable, she was also on board with them having a holiday fling that nobody else would ever know about.
Not that it was likely the sex could be quite that good again but, if he didn’t find out, Angus had a feeling that not knowing could haunt him forever.
Almost as satisfying, his luxury rental car had remained undamaged overnight, a crew from a garage arrived promptly to reinflate the tyres and they were on the road again.
Tilly had rung her mother to check Monique’s address, having suggested that a large bouquet of flowers would be an appropriate thank you for being rescued, and Angus had gone online to arrange that and to also make a generous donation to Henri Girard’s falcon sanctuary.
The drive, as they finally headed towards Vence, was on a pleasant rural road, with trees on either side at times and acres upon acres of lavender and sunflowers, wheat and a few small flocks of sheep here and there on the flat, arable lands of the Valensole Plateau.
There was an ease between them today that hadn’t been there yesterday, so there was no awkwardness about not talking but, just when Angus was going to ask her to stream some music through the speakers, she had a question.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘That you do for your work?’
‘I’m a risk consultant.’
‘Yes, I know that. I know that it is something to do with big companies or banks or very important people but I don’t really understand what it is that you do.’
‘Ah… Let me give you an example of something I’ve done recently, shall I?’
‘Yes. Please.’
‘Well, a rather large international bank discovered that millions of pounds had been stolen in a case of internal fraud. It was imperative to deal with the problem before the news was leaked, which could potentially be catastrophic, so they called me.’
‘Why would people finding out the truth be catastrophic?’
Tilly’s accent, especially on a word like ‘catastrophic’ was so delightful that it was an effort to focus on what she wanted to know.
‘The trust people have in banks is fragile,’ he said.
‘If an issue like this was handled badly and too many people decided to pull their money out at the same time, it could be a disaster. It’s called a bank run and it’s a fundamental risk in banking.
Not many people realise that banks don’t have that much money available all at once.
They lend it out for mortgages and business loans or invest it – that’s how they make their money. ’
Angus paused. Why would Tilly be remotely interested in how banks worked? Her next words were confirmation that she wasn’t.
‘But what do you do?’ she asked.
He wished he could make it sound exciting. Or even interesting.
‘A whole lot of boring stuff,’ he admitted.
‘Any ongoing damage has to be stopped, and that includes information leaks. I bring in the experts like forensic accountants and cyber forensic guys and find out the scale of the problem and then decide who gets told what and when they get told to try and prevent a bank run. When that’s sorted, I have to find out how it happened in the first place and make sure it doesn’t happen again, by putting in monitoring systems and checks and balances. ’
A sideways glance showed him that Tilly was stifling a yawn and that felt like a slap in the face.
He’d given her a glimpse of the real Angus McLeod, who was too boring for any woman to really want to be with him.
Not that Tilly could be counted in that group, because she was being paid to be with him.
That put her in a whole new category in his life, didn’t it?
There was no reason for him not to be completely honest with her.
‘See? I told you it was boring. People think I’m boring.’
But Tilly was smiling as she shook her head. ‘You might be unromantic,’ she told him, ‘but you’re most definitely not boring. It’s just that it’s warm. Maybe we could put the roof down again soon?’
‘When we stop,’ he agreed. ‘We’ll need to get some petrol soon.’
In the meantime, he was going to stop talking about his work and focus on his driving.
The land was beginning to change as they got closer to the edge of the plateau.
There were hills and some dramatic limestone cliffs not far away and he could see what was becoming a familiar tumble of buildings on the steep rocky slopes.
‘Looks like we’ll find that petrol soon,’ he said, pointing at the cliffs.
‘That’s Moustiers-Sainte-Marie,’ Tilly told him.
‘It’s said to be one of the most beautiful medieval villages in Provence and it’s squeezed between two cliffs.
There’s a star that hangs on a chain from cliff to cliff, as high above the village as a little chapel.
The story goes that a knight returning from the Crusades hung the star to give thanks for his safe return.
We could climb up to see it, if you don’t mind about two hundred steps. ’
It seemed to be his turn to smile at Tilly.
She didn’t think he was boring.
In fact, she thought he was definitely not boring. Maybe honesty really was the best policy.
‘I don’t know about you,’ he said, his eyes back on the road, ‘but I’m feeling a little lazy this morning, which might have well have something to do with how hot it is but I suspect it’s more about a lack of sleep. I’d rather like to find some good, strong coffee.’
His sideways glance was swift enough to catch Tilly’s cheeks going a very charming shade of pink at the reminder of why they’d been awake for most of the night. And that she was just as tired as he was.
‘I know a little café,’ she said. ‘It’s close to the waterfall and it will be nice and cool.
We could also buy some food for a picnic lunch at the boulangerie.
There’s a place you need to see, further up the road.
Did you know that the Gorge du Verdon is called the Grand Canyon of Europe?
Those cliffs of Moustiers are just the beginning. ’
* * *
It was only the second time that Angus had unlatched the roof of the Alfa and folded it away but his movements were confident. Relaxed, even.
Everything was more relaxed about Angus McLeod since last night.
Tilly could see it in his face. He might claim to be tired from lack of sleep but, as far as she was concerned, he looked distinctly refreshed.
The lines around his eyes were less noticeable and his mouth looked… softer? Almost on the point of smiling.