Page 25 of Love in Bloom

CHAPTER SIX

Château de Valmer/Toulouse

“We’re riding in that?” Camille looked at Tristan. In front of them stood either a tricked-out recreational vehicle or a celebrity bus. She couldn’t tell which.

“They like to travel in style.” He flashed a smile at her. “There’s lots of comfortable seating, a loo—”

“And a kitchen complete with staff to wait on you hand and foot,” Lisette added from behind them. “Bonjour, mes amis.”

“How is it going to fit down the road?” Camille wondered as she tilted her head backward. “Obviously its specs must comply with the transportation codes for France. But it’s a beast, I must say. I’m grateful I’m not the one driving it, aren’t you, Tristan? Of course you are. Much better to travel in luxury than have to worry about navigating the winding roads and traffic. The drivers must have nerves of steel. I don’t think I could manage it, do you?”

“Happy to not have to. We can relax instead.” Tristan linked his hand in hers, a sensation Camille still wasn’t used to after only twenty-four hours.

Lisette smoothed her perfect French twist. “We have the best drivers with perfect records. Nothing is too good for our guests. If you’re ready to board, we’ll be on our way to the Château de Valmer.” She gestured toward the sleek silver monster vehicle with red trim, which looked like a small aircraft.

Tristan motioned for her to board first, and Camille ascended the stairs.

It turned out the vehicle was laid out double-decker style, like the ones in London. The first floor was set up with a kitchen, a loo, and a dining area. She ascended the stairs to the second floor, where couches, recliner chairs, and love seats were laid out with easy access to tables for playing card games or board games. The bus was mostly one big tinted window to attract her to the glorious vistas as they passed. She felt the engine rumble to life.

Tristan asked, “Where would you like to sit?”

“Not at the back,” she whispered. “Something about Mrs. Aarons gives me the creeps.” She’d overheard some of the Aaron’s dinner talk last night. The wife kept giving appraising looks to Tristan—looks he ignored—and her accent Camille couldn’t stand.

“Right. Other options?”

Camille’s thoughts raced. They’d be stuck with this lot through the tour. The Kollmans had been seated far away, but the wife had a kind smile. “Let’s sit in the love seat for now.” Camille crossed to the seat and settled her bag on the floor.

Tristan sat beside her with one arm stretched across the back, his fingers resting on her shoulder. Their legs touched in the close quarters, and Camille bounced a leg. Tristan’s scent cascaded over her, calling to her to snuggle into his chest. She remained upright.

Tristan’s hand slid onto her leg. “Easy, Camille. It’s a short bus ride, only thirty minutes.”

The touch of his hand through her sundress was like having a firecracker go off on her skin. Did he have any idea of what his touch did to her? Did she want him to know? With difficulty she schooled her features so as to not reflect his effect on her. Acting like a newlywed who wanted to be alone with her husband wasn’t going to be hard to do.

“Last time the tour started in Chamonix,” Mr. Kollman interjected, his German accent adding a clipped cadence to his baritone voice. “I think because it’s close to where France, Italy, and Switzerland intersect, and the location makes it easier to get to for the couples in Europe. For the ones coming from farther away it really doesn’t matter. Plus the view of the mountains is spectacular. We went a day early to enjoy some hiking.”

“Where did you hike? Was it cold? You’ve been on the tour before? How was it? Are you seeing the same sights over again this time or do locations change from year to year? What kind of plants have you seen? Was Lisette your tour guide last time? Have you met any of the couples on this tour before?”

“Camille,” Tristan whispered. His hand curled a little over her knee. “Let the man answer before you pepper him with questions.”

Camille thought she would lose her mind. There was no way to put space between them on the love seat, but if she didn’t want to embarrass herself like a crazed university coed having her first snog, then she needed to do something. She put her hand over his and squeezed. Then she said, “I’ll try not to bounce. Please let go of my leg.”

He nodded and moved his hand. Tristan addressed Mr. Kollman. “Please forgive my wife. She’s very excited about the tour and lets her curiosity get the better of her tongue at times.” He raised their clasped hands and kissed the back of her knuckles.

Camille would need a serious cardio workout before bed to work off the excess energy Tristan’s every touch supplied.

“There’s no need for an apology. It’s a wonderful thing to be well informed,” he said to Tristan before turning his brown eyes on Camille. “Some of the tour locations change, while a few standards remain. No one would ever want to miss Versailles.”

“It’s my favorite,” the soft-spoken Mrs. Kollman said. “I think I could spend years wandering it and never be bored.”

Camille liked her instantly. She reminded Camille of her sister Clara.

“Are you newlyweds?” Mrs. Kollman asked.

“Our honeymoon,” Tristan answered.

Mrs. Kollman went all doe-eyed. “Ah, how wonderful.” She took her husband’s hand across the small table between them. “We went skiing in the Alps for ours. It was winter, a Christmas wedding.”

“As I recall, we spent more time snuggled on the bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire.”

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