Page 40 of Love in Bloom

“What’s that?”

She grinned at him. “I still need the loo.”

♥ ♥ ♥

Tristan looked out the bus window. He’d struggled through morning meditation with this beautiful woman next to him, holding his hand. Camille’s head rested on his shoulder, her breath even, as she slept. Her light brown lashes stood out against her creamy complexion. She looked angelic. By daylight, she was a force to be reckoned with, but slumbering, her innocence shone through. It made him protective. He sighed. The person she needed protection from was him. And he’d failed her.

He shouldn’t have let her kiss him, though he’d craved her kiss since their university days. The floodgates had opened, and it was a constant battle to not pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Guilt coursed through him. He knew when Camille went after something she was relentless. She would fight for it until she prevailed. This was one instance where she’d have to be defeated. The look of disappointment on her face when she finally knew all about him, caused pain in his chest. He rubbed a hand over his heart. It amazed him that she still saw him in a heroic light, knowing of his mistake and how he’d paid for it. Payment. The undoing of all.

Somehow he would have to end things with Camille at the conclusion of the tour in a few days. End their attachment and not look back. If he looked back, he’d cave. If he loved Camille as much as he thought he might be capable of, then leaving was the only option.

He wanted to cry. He’d endured some incredibly hard things over the past few years, but letting go of Camille would be the hardest. He had the sinking feeling his heart wouldn’t recover. His first wife had been a colossal mistake. Camille, his fake wife, was the woman he was meant to be with and couldn’t have.

The bus rumbled into the parking lot of Villandry.

Tristan brushed his knuckles across Camille’s cheek. “Darling, we’re here.”

Her lashes fluttered. She yawned and stretched. “Did I sleep the whole way?”

“Most of it.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Not sure my shoulder made the best pillow though.”

“It was perfect.”

From the seats across, Mrs. Kollman said, “That’s more of what a young married couple should look and sound like.”

“It was a late night, but I bet that’s not the only reason your wife needed a nap first thing in the morning.” Mr. Kollman winked at them.

Tristan felt his face heat and saw roses bloom in Camille’s cheeks. He helped Camille to her feet, and they were the last to disembark.

“Bonjour, mes amis,” Lisette said, donning sunglasses. “Bienvenue à Villandry. We’ll be utilizing the audio tour today and meet back here at one o’clock for luncheon.” She and the staff passed out headphones.

Tristan and Camille donned their ear phones, and turned on the audio tour as they entered the château.

“This one might be my favorite so far. Look at the colors and attention to detail. I won’t have any trouble staying awake now.” She pecked him on the cheek.

Hand in hand they walked through room after room. Camille had comments on every room about the colors, the furnishings, the patterns, the floors. He savored every word.

“I adore that bed, don’t you?” she asked.

“The one built in the wall?”

She nodded, her straight blonde locks barely bouncing. “I love the curtain around it. Like a private hideaway. Maybe I’ll redo my bedroom when I get home. Get a carpenter, and have him craft me a bed into the wall.”

“Would you pick the same floral pattern?”

“No. Something a bit more understated and modern. I like the bed in the white room better than in the green. I’d want my bed simpler with clean lines.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone capable.” He turned on the pretense of studying a painting but really to hide the ache he felt in his chest. She would go home to London to renovate, and he would return to his modest life in India. He had money, but he didn’t like to spend it. This trip was a splurge and worth every penny to see the smile on Camille’s face.

They walked through the gallery, where Camille exclaimed over the blue and white patterned floor, but the Oriental room rendered her momentarily speechless.

“It’s stunning.” Her head pointed to the ceiling. “I’d like to lie on the rug and stare at it for hours. Wouldn’t you? Of course you would. I wonder if the family ever did that. Do you think so? I can imagine them all spread out on the floor counting the tiles, losing their place and starting over again. Bless Joachim Carvallo for saving it when that palace was dismantled in Toledo, Spain. Thirty-six hundred pieces. Can you imagine reassembling them? One of the world’s hardest jigsaw puzzles. I wonder if it’s in the book of world records. I’ve never been to Toledo, have you? I traveled to Spain once and tried three different times to go there and never managed it. Something always came up to prevent me. After the third time, I took it as a sign that I wasn’t supposed to travel there. Still I hope to go someday.”

The wistfulness of her tone attracted Tristan’s attention. He’d like to take her there and fulfill her broken dream. Perhaps on a vacation. Perhaps as part of a honeymoon. He gave himself a mental slap. There would be no honeymoon, no real marriage. The thoughts turned his stomach and heart to lead. For Camille, he reminded himself. If I truly care for her, I must let her go.

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