Chapter 13
Angus followed Tilly to another square tucked in behind the cathedral that was dominated by an enormous chestnut tree with fairy lights beginning to twinkle amongst its leaves as dusk deepened.
Two men were sitting on a bench seat beneath the tree, playing a game of chess.
Women were standing chatting and a couple of boys kicked a football between them.
The apartment buildings around the edges of the square were hundreds of years old and the sense of community amongst the residents felt just as solid.
Tourists wandered through, and tables on the far side of the tree were crowded enough to advertise a popular outdoor restaurant.
Tilly stopped beside a house to show Angus the old millstone that was its front doorstep and then gestured towards a nearby entranceway to a building.
‘That’s where I live,’ she told him. ‘You can see my little Vespa parked in there under the archway. The pale green one with the basket on the back?’
The archway and short tunnel into the building were intriguing. ‘Can I see?’
Tilly’s face scrunched into an embarrassed expression that created a very cute wrinkle in her nose.
‘It’s a very small apartment,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing special.’
Maybe she didn’t want him in her home because that was part of her real life and he wasn’t. This was just a few days of… he didn’t even know what to call it. More than a holiday but less than something that was significant enough to last. A fling?
Something that was happening in Provence and would be left in Provence as far as he was concerned. They would never see each other again.
That was the agreement between them. So why could he feel a faint pang of loss already?
‘Let’s see if Michel can find a space for us to have dinner,’ Tilly said.
The restaurant beneath the chestnut tree was humming with conversation and laughter and the clink of chinaware and glass.
There was a man in a top hat and waistcoat wandering amongst the tables playing the piano accordion.
Angus couldn’t see any free spaces but the restaurant owner who greeted Tilly by name pointed to one that a waiter was just clearing as diners left.
She blew him a kiss as they headed towards the table for two right beside the trunk of the tree.
Angus did, briefly, consider ordering something different to steak frites but the only change he made was to not order mushroom sauce.
Or any sauce. He would leave it up to the chef.
It turned out to be a pepper sauce, which he would never have thought to choose, and the heat was noticeable enough to make him pause.
Tilly was watching him.
‘Good?’
‘Very good. Yours?’
In response, Tilly cut into one of the cushions of pasta stuffed with beef on her plate, covered the morsel with the sauce and offered him her fork.
Angus could have taken the cutlery with his hand but, instead, he wrapped his fingers around Tilly’s wrist and lifted the fork high enough to put the food into his mouth.
She licked her lips as she watched him taste the meal she had chosen, the way she had during their very first dinner together and…
…and how could something as simple as sharing a meal feel like some kind of foreplay?
‘Good?’ she asked again.
‘Way better than good,’ he said, very softly, holding her gaze. Would she pick up that he wasn’t referring simply to the food?
The way she dropped her gaze and reached for her glass of wine suggested that she had.
Angus had insisted on it being the best champagne available this evening and the look on her face as she took her first sip gave him as much of a glow of pleasure as tasting something delicious himself could have provided.
The fairy lights shone more and more brightly as the daylight finally made its exit. Their plates were taken away and the waiter asked if they wanted dessert.
Angus shook his head. ‘I don’t do desserts,’ he reminded Tilly.
‘You liked the flan,’ she reminded him. ‘And the tiramisu here is a house speciality. It’s to die for.’
But Angus shook his head again and the waiter returned with only one plate that held a square shape heavily dusted with cocoa powder. He also had two shot glasses that were cold and frosty and full to the brim with a yellow liquid.
‘Limoncello,’ Tilly said. ‘It’s apparently good for the digestion.’
Angus picked up the glass but put it down before tasting the drink when the restaurant owner approached their table carrying a large brick-red ceramic dish. He put it down in front of Angus, who blinked in bewilderment.
The dish was empty, apart from remnants of what had been scooped out of it.
Tiramisu? When two spoons were placed on the table he stared at Tilly.
One dessert with two spoons? This was specifically something he had warned her that he didn’t want.
And this wasn’t even a dessert, it was an almost empty dish.
If this was a joke, it was not funny. Angus could feel his eyes narrowing as he frowned.
But Tilly was shaking her head. Smiling.
‘It’s not what you think,’ she said. ‘It’s the tradition here.
When someone orders the last serving from the dish, it’s brought to the table with spoons for everyone to taste what’s left.
The last time, I was with my mother and Monique and so we got three spoons.
This is no more romantic than that was.’
‘Hmm…’ He could have argued that point but Angus could feel the tension in his face subsiding. Did it matter, anyway?
‘You might as well taste it,’ Tilly said. ‘You might like it even more than the flan. It’s like a coffee-flavoured cloud.’
It was.
And he did like it.
* * *
It was completely dark by the time the hotel shuttle took them back up the hill and they followed the path to their villa.
And it was still very warm. The temperature hadn’t dropped much below thirty degrees Celsius all evening.
‘I’m going to need another shower,’ Tilly said as she opened the doors to their terrace and garden.
But Angus was looking at the pool. ‘I have a much better idea,’ he said. ‘Let’s swim.’
‘I have nothing to swim in,’ Tilly protested.
‘That’s exactly what you need,’ he told her. ‘Nothing.’
Her eyes widened in shock. ‘Angus McLeod – are you saying we should swim naked?’
‘Why not? No one can see us. And… when did you last go skinny dipping?’
‘I never have,’ Tilly responded.
‘Then you don’t know what you’re missing,’ Angus said.
‘Not that I’ve done it in more than thirty years but I remember it as a kid.
If I was out roaming with Robbie on a hot day and we were near the loch, I’d just take everything off and jump in.
’ He was unbuttoning his shirt as he spoke.
‘I’ve never forgotten how good it was to feel the water on my skin like that. I want to feel it again.’
His shirt was completely unbuttoned now and Tilly could see the fine hairs on his chest between small nipples and she itched to touch his skin herself.
He stepped closer and put a single finger under her chin to lift it.
She liked the way he paused as their eyes met, like he had at the lake this afternoon when he was asking permission to kiss her.
She liked that he could see that it was given.
And then she stopped thinking coherently at all when he lowered his mouth to hers.
Their first kiss – standing in that stream in the sunshine, with the water tumbling over their feet and the orchestra of cicadas playing in the background – had been a revelation for Tilly.
Something so different it had opened a whole new world, and taking the huge step of going deeper into that world last night, in the olive grove, had been almost overwhelming.
But it was changing now. It wasn’t losing any of the scorching heat of desire but it had notes that already felt familiar.
Safe.
Tilly was absolutely confident that she could trust this man.
And that was as sexy as anything else about this. It took this intimacy to a whole new level because it felt as if there was a solid foundation beneath her. As if Tilly could push against it and suddenly discover she had the ability to fly.
Angus had been unbuttoning her dress as he kissed her and she felt it slither to her feet.
They both broke the kiss, caught each other’s gaze for a heartbeat and then shed the rest of their clothing.
Angus took her hand and they sat on the edge of the small pool.
The look he gave her then made Tilly wonder if he, like her, would probably never be able to put his feet into cool water without remembering that kiss in the stream.
And the one at the lake when they were standing in water again.
Summer, with all the opportunities to paddle or swim, was never going to be quite the same, was it?
Angus slipped into the pool first and he caught Tilly as she followed his example. Her feet touched the bottom and then she floated up to bump gently against his body and the warmth of his skin was like human sunshine against the delicious chill of the water.
They didn’t have sex in the pool. That would come later, when they were dry and warm and in the cocoon of the huge bed in the villa, shut away from the world.
This was playtime. To move enough to feel the ripples of water over every inch of their bodies and the delightful effervescence of the bubbles created by skimming their hands over each other’s skin.
To kiss with runnels of water cascading down their faces as they came up from a dive or to feel the fire of their tongues touching, with their fingers laced so that they could stay that close to each other underwater.
Who knew that the man Tilly had originally dubbed ‘Angry Angus’ could play like this?
That there was such a gentle, humorous side to someone who gave the impression of such control and strength?
And how often was she going to think that sex couldn’t get any better, only to find out how wrong she had been?