Chapter 17
Tilly told him that the art museum was at the end of the long park where they had just finished eating their lunch.
‘Would you like to see it?’
‘Not really.’ Angus didn’t want to sound like a philistine, but this was his last day in France.
His last day with Tilly.
There had to be better things to do than wander around a gallery looking at paintings or sculpture.
‘Let’s get back to the car,’ he said. ‘And check in.’ He let one of his eyebrows lift, with no more than a whisper of movement. ‘It’s hot today. We might need a swim in a pool or perhaps a nap, even, before we go out for our last dinner.’
Tilly’s eyes were that lovely soft brown that wasn’t quite dark enough to hide the way her pupils got suddenly bigger. The smudge of pink on her cheeks couldn’t hide the fact that she knew there would be no sleeping involved with testing out the bed in the luxurious suite that was waiting for them.
She even had to clear her throat before she said anything.
‘We’ll go through the Place Masséna on the way, then. It’s the beating heart of Nice, so I would be completely failing as a guide if I didn’t take you there.’
They left the children playing in the water jets behind them and, within a few steps, Angus found himself looking at the red facades of imposing buildings framing an enormous square with checkerboard paving.
There were tramlines and palm trees and a huge marble statue in the centre of a fountain with bronze creatures and animals beneath him.
‘That’s Apollo,’ Tilly told him, as they walked past the fountain. ‘He’s only come back to the Place Masséna in recent years. He was too controversial so he got dismantled and hidden away.’
‘Why?’
‘People were offended by his nudity. He was considered too…’ Tilly grinned. ‘Impressive.’
Angus eyed the statue’s anatomy. ‘I wouldn’t call that particularly impressive.’
Tilly bit her lip. ‘They gave him an operation to make him less impressive but it wasn’t enough to placate the virtuous ladies, so that was when he disappeared. I was a teenage girl when he came back and the story amused me and my friends very much.’
They were walking towards one of the huge red buildings that had a series of archways at ground level beneath all the windows.
‘That’s the Galeries Lafayette,’ Tilly said. ‘Un grand magasin.’
‘A department store?’ Angus guessed. ‘Like Jenners in Edinburgh?’
‘Yes. And Selfridges in London. But… more French.’
Walking into the shade beneath the archways was welcome, so they joined the procession of tourists enjoying the window displays.
And then Angus stopped dead in his tracks. Tilly had gone a few steps before she turned and her expression was one of concern as she came back to where he was standing.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s… that dress. Look.’ He pointed at the dress being worn by a mannequin that had no features or hair on its head but was quintessentially feminine, with her weight on one hip, shoulders angled and a head tilt that was innately provocative.
It showed off the bright red dress that had a matching, sheer overlay, embroidered with a 3D effect to make it look like flowers had been attached over a solid fabric.
‘It’s very pretty.’ But Tilly sounded puzzled.
‘It would be the perfect dress for you,’ Angus said.
She shook her head. ‘I never wear bright colours like that,’ she said. ‘I like pale colours, like this’ – she looked down at the sky-blue dress she was wearing – ‘and my yellow one.’
Angus waited until Tilly looked up to catch his gaze. ‘You should wear red,’ he said softly. ‘This colour is perfect and I want to buy this dress for you.’
‘Non…’ Tilly looked horrified. ‘Absolument pas! I can’t accept—’
He put his fingertip against her lips. ‘Please,’ he added, even more quietly. ‘This is my last day in France. I want to see you in this dress. I want you to see yourself in it. At least try it on?’
He could feel Tilly relenting as he held her gaze and finally she gave a single slow nod of acquiescence.
‘D’accord.’
They walked through the glass doors into the light and scents of the perfume and cosmetics department.
Tilly had hit the nail on the head, Angus thought, watching a woman at a counter winding a lipstick open to see its colour, a small white dog on a leash waiting patiently beside her impossibly high-heeled shoes.
This shop was definitely more French than Selfridges.
They went up to the first floor and a saleswoman in a sleek black dress quickly found the garment he’d spotted in the window.
With a resigned, slightly embarrassed look on her face, Tilly went into a changing room while Angus sat on one of the overstuffed chairs in an area with floor to ceiling mirrors.
When she emerged a short time later, he could actually feel his jaw dropping.
‘Wow.’ It was more a breath than a word.
The dress had looked amazing on the plastic mannequin.
On Tilly, it had come alive.
It clung to her waist but flared out softly to below her knees.
The solid fabric of the dress finished just above her breasts but the embroidered mesh covered the rest of her chest and shoulders with the effect of decorating without hiding that pale skin that Angus knew felt like silk and tasted like heaven.
Tilly was watching him watch her and then she did a twirl right in front of him, holding her arms up to show him how the skirt rippled around her legs but hugged her upper body as if it were painted on. She had never looked more like a ballerina.
She had never looked more beautiful.
Angus took out his wallet.
‘I’m going to buy this dress for you.’
‘But—’
He interrupted so that she couldn’t continue her protest. He kept his voice low but used the kind of tone he’d learned that nobody argued with.
‘I want you to wear this dress for our last dinner tonight,’ he told Tilly. ‘I want you to wear it in the future and remember me.’
He saw the way she drew in a sharp breath and then parted her lips to slowly let it go.
‘I would remember you without the dress, Angus,’ she said quietly. ‘But thank you. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever put on.’
Were those tears in Tilly’s eyes that created that sparkle? Angus couldn’t tell because she turned away too quickly and then vanished into the changing room. He hoped not. The last thing in the world he’d want to do would be to make Tilly cry.
When she came out, the saleswoman was waiting to wrap the dress in tissue paper and put it into the black and white bag on the counter. She hesitated for a heartbeat, holding the dress against her body as if it was her last chance to touch it.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked him.
Angus smiled. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything,’ he murmured.
* * *
Tilly put the gorgeous red dress on again as she got ready to go to dinner with Angus that evening. The dress that actually made her feel truly beautiful for the first time in her life.
They hadn’t left their room at the Negresco since they’d checked in, hours and hours ago.
For some time, after they’d been left alone in their suite, they hadn’t been able to stop staring wide-eyed at the over-the-top opulence of the room.
It could have graced a French castle in the time of Louis XIV but looked as if it had been redecorated in the more playful belle époque era.
Heavily fringed and scalloped peacock-blue drapes framed French doors that were open to a picture-postcard sea view only enhanced by the intricate wrought-iron railing of the balcony.
The furniture had spindly legs and heavy brocade fabric, the chandeliers were gilded and the centrepiece of the room was an antique sleigh bed, the curved ends made of heavy carved wood that could have been dauntingly masculine but was softened by the pure white linen, huge feather-filled pillows and a pale coral-pink cover.
Angus and Tilly looked at the bed.
Then they looked at each other.
And they both smiled.
They hadn’t left that bed until there was only just time to shower and dress for the table that was booked for dinner across the road at eight o’clock.
Daytime sex had never particularly appealed to Tilly in the past. The filters of darkness and alcohol had always been part and parcel of a sexual encounter.
Totally sober sex when the sun wasn’t even close to setting was as much of a revelation as the heights of physical pleasure that Angus had shown her were possible.
It was like the difference between liking someone and being utterly in love with them.
Every sense was sharpened and every sensation magnified.
She couldn’t have done it if she hadn’t developed such a deep trust in Angus, but from the very first kiss, when they’d gone onto the balcony to admire the view but kept looking at each other instead, she felt completely safe.
And it was different again to anything they’d shared so far.
The lovemaking was so slow, every movement felt almost reverent.
They had all the time in the world to savour every taste and every touch, every murmur of words where the sound of a voice was more important than their meaning.
It was heartbreakingly gentle enough to feel like a farewell but passionate enough to have no doubt at all that it would never be forgotten.
By the time Tilly had showered, brushed her hair until it was a dark silky curtain that she left to hang loose down her back, and slipped back into the red dress, she felt as if she were floating in the kind of space that only existed when you were almost asleep – halfway between a dream and reality – when you were physically, and emotionally, sated enough to be happier than you could ever remember being before.
It was a state of being that only intensified when they arrived at the N La Plage and were shown to a corner table on the deck, just far enough away from other diners and angled enough to feel almost private.