Page 33 of Love in Bloom

Camille located a card with their menu. “Salad, Eyrignac smoked duck, Anchaud Périgourdine (pork confit), sweet corn, tomato, croutons, walnuts and truffle vinaigrette.” She set the card down and shrugged. “Guess I’ll have a go.” She stabbed a forkful and stuffed it in her mouth. “Better than I expected.”

“Sometimes it’s better not to read the card. It can make you biased. I learned long ago in Asia not to ask too many questions about what I was eating. I’d have starved otherwise.”

“What did you eat that’s exotic?”

“Octopus for one.”

Camille wrinkled her nose.

“It’s not as bad as you think. At least the one I ate wasn’t alive. I was offered it. Nearly threw up at the idea. Safer to eat them dead. Can you imagine all the suckers stuck to your mouth as you tried to swallow it down? The poor thing would be inside you screaming, “Don’t eat me!” and trying to keep from going down your throat.” He shuddered.

Camille laughed. “A wise choice. No octopus for me, thank you very much, though I won’t say no to calamari. Not part of the diet now. At least not the fried kind. What else do we have?” She smelled the cheese and checked the card. “It’s local. I’d love to eat the bread, but it’s too many carbs, and I’d rather save those for the walnut and apple clafoutis.” She opened a bottle of water and took a hearty sip.

Tristan loved that Camille never pretended to be anything other than who she was. He, on the other hand, was just shy of lying through his teeth. He let Camille lead the conversation about the gardens they’d explored, and she surmised at how the next stop on their tour would differ.

After bidding adieu to Patrick and Eryignac, they dozed on the thirty-minute drive to Marqueyssac.

♥ ♥ ♥

Camille enjoyed the thirty-five minute tour of the château, but was anxious to move on to the gardens. “We’ve plenty of old homes in England,” she whispered to Tristan as she tapped her hand against her thigh.

He wrapped his hand around hers. “Easy, darling. Patience is a virtue I’m told.”

“One I’m very short on.” She enjoyed the feel of Tristan’s hand against her own. She twined their hands and found the scar across the back of his knuckles. The skin was raised and smooth but the cut was jagged in shape. How had he received it?

Lisette said, “Mesdames et messieurs, our tour is over, and you have ninety minutes to explore on your own before we meet here at the château for departure. There is a shuttle departing for the Belvedere in a few minutes if you prefer not to walk. Bonne aventure.”

“What do you think, Camille?”

She studied the map again. “With only ninety minutes, I say we take the shuttle and enjoy a somewhat leisurely stroll back. Otherwise we’ll be sprinting both directions.”

“Excellent.”

As they rode along the length of the park, Camille asked, “Tristan, how did you get the scar on your hand?”

He stiffened beside her. “Singapore, a, uh, stupid accident.” He ran a finger over the scar.

Camille shifted in her seat. Tristan wasn’t telling her everything. Would he ever let her in? They were married, sort of.

The shuttle arrived, and they joined the crowd to access the Belvedere, a grand balcony.

“Oh my.” Camille grabbed Tristan’s hand and pulled him to the ropes along the edge. “I feel as if I’m flying. If I took one more step I’d plummet to the bottom of the valley. Marvelous! You can see the world from up here. Look, there’s a boat in the river, and the fields are plowed in straight lines. Over there is La Roque-Gageac. How quaint the village looks from here, built right into the hillside. Amazing. The trees, the fields.”

“We have those in Britain too.” He winked at her.

“I know.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “But this is France, and everything is different. The air, the soil, the rain.”

Tristan chuckled.

Camille loved the sound of his chuckle. She stared out at the view. “We need a picture.”

They adjusted their angle to fit as much of the valley as they could into their selfie without cutting themselves out of the picture.

“Are you ready to adventure?” Tristan held out his elbow.

Camille nodded and wrapped her hand around his bicep. She longed to be wrapped in his arms once more, but twice in one day already seemed more than what she should hope for. What would it be like if they were really married and on their honeymoon? She imagined they would try to steal private moments away from the group to share kisses and embraces during the day. At night they would share the same bed … Her cheeks warmed. She wasn’t ignorant of what happened between married couples. Connor and Maddie were still high on newlywedded bliss. Recently she’d noticed how full Connor’s life had become since he married Maddie. She realized how empty hers was and how much she wanted someone to share that kind of connection. Tristan presented the possibility of being that person … if she could break down his walls.

They wandered the paths through the greenery, reading the guide plaques that provided botanical information about the gardens, and arrived at the cascade.

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