Chapter 20 #3
‘Try it on.’ Angus was as surprised as Tilly by the suggestion that had just jumped out of his mouth.
‘I – I’ve never seen it being worn,’ he added, hurriedly.
‘It was just a ring in a glass case the last time I saw it. A thing. A box to be ticked on the list of things to do when you’re planning to propose to someone.
It wasn’t really real, if that makes any sense. ’
Nothing had been real, had it? Including how he’d felt about Moira.
He’d never had this feeling that things he was doing, or saying, might be laced with what felt like an uncomfortable truth that was beginning to seep through the cracks in those barriers he’d built around his heart so carefully, brick by brick.
Maybe that was why this, with Tilly, was inescapable.
Because it was so real.
Right there in front of him. He could see it. Taste it. Feel it pulling him in as fast as the urge to fight back was draining away.
He could hear a faintly puzzled note in his own voice as he tried to push back. To mentally shrug off what was trying to intrude.
‘As far as I know,’ he said, ‘it’s never been on any human finger, which is a wee bit sad, don’t you think?’
Tilly was visibly hesitating – as if she, too, was fighting for control.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and then Angus could see her chest rise as she drew in a slow, deep breath.
And then she visibly shrugged, as if she was – reluctantly – taking her turn in a game, and slid the ring onto her third finger, on her right hand, not her left, but…
…it looked as if it was made for her. A perfect accessory for her delicate, long fingers and that graceful hand.
A perfect fit – like Cinderella’s shoe?
As if he was Prince bloody Charming?
Had Tilly heard his thoughts? She lifted her gaze from the ring to meet his eyes and – oh, help – what had he done? He could see the shock of her realising the implications of what she’d just done. Was she afraid he was about to propose to her?
He felt just as shocked himself.
Because that actually seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do.
He wanted to do it, in fact. How crazy was that when he could still count the length of time he’d known Tilly in days, rather than weeks or months.
The words were right there, though, right on the tip of his tongue.
He was spiralling completely out of control.
I love you.
Marry me…
But Tilly had already broken that appalled glance they’d shared and she was wrenching off the ring. Pushing it back into his hand.
‘Keep it,’ she told him, her voice strong now. She was smiling at him but her smile didn’t reach anywhere even close to her eyes. ‘One day, you’ll be glad you did, I promise.’
She was on her feet now, picking up her plate and cutlery.
Angus put the ring back into its cover and dropped it onto the table.
He was kicking himself for having produced it in the first place.
This was entirely his fault. He’d broken the rules of this simply being a holiday romance between two people who knew perfectly well that they weren’t compatible.
He was the most unromantic man on earth.
He hadn’t been in love with Moira. He’d been going through what felt like the steps necessary to achieve as satisfying a life as possible and, on paper, Moira had been an ideal choice.
If he’d asked her to marry him and she’d said no, he would have been disappointed but he wouldn’t have been devastated.
What if those words had escaped and Tilly had said no? Angus could imagine it might feel like the end of the world. That he would be losing her, as surely as if he’d seen her tumbling down a bottomless cliff.
Weirdly, they were both on perfectly flat ground on this solid stone terrace but it felt like they were both in danger of falling right now and he didn’t know how to start making things safe again.
He’d scared himself.
But perhaps he’d scared Tilly even more.
He put his hand over Tilly’s wrist as she reached for his plate.
‘Leave it,’ he said softly. ‘The washing up can wait.’
‘It’s getting late,’ she said, not looking up this time. ‘And I’m tired after walking up that mountain today. You did that walk and then had work on top of it. I think I should go home and let you get some rest, too.’
Angus was on his feet now. He drew Tilly into his arms.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have left that damn ring where it was. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘I know,’ Tilly whispered.
Could she feel how tense he was? Was it contagious? It felt as if it was. Angus tilted Tilly’s chin so that he could kiss her and, after his lips were on hers, he could feel her melting in his arms, the way she always did.
But he couldn’t fall into the kiss the way he always did. Too much had happened today. His head was spinning, the tension was a horrible heavy weight and the urge to seek refuge – to find somewhere safe – was simply too strong to ignore.
‘You’re right,’ he said, lifting his lips from hers to press a kiss onto her forehead instead. ‘It’s been a big day. Let’s both get some rest.’
He let her go.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he promised.