Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(58)

After some time, the carriage lurched to a halt. Rhys woke with a start. His boots hit the carriage floor with a jarring thud.

“All’s well,” she assured him quickly. “I believe we’re stopping to change horses.”

He glanced out the window. “We’re nearing Exeter. That’s good. Shall we climb out and stretch?”

They walked a bit, away from the inn, strolling through the fringe of a wooded glen that bordered the lane. It amazed her, what a short distance they’d traveled and yet how many plants grew here that she did not know by name.

“We never talk about you,” she said, taking his arm. And their opportunities to do so might be dwindling by the day.

“There’s not much to discuss.”

“But of course there is. You’ve traveled all over. What’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever been?”

“Anywhere you are.”

She blushed like a girl, despite herself. “This from the man who claims no talent for romance. No, be serious. I truly want to know. French mountain ranges? A Belgian cathedral? The open sea?”

“Tulips.” He lifted his chin and stared hard into the thickening trees. The pause grew so lengthy, Meredith wondered whether he meant to say anything else. Perhaps he just had a particular fondness for tulips.

“A whole field of them,” he finally said. “In Holland. Red tulips, in endless waves. And a clear blue sky overhead.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“It was.” A dull note landed on the word was. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “I believe they have the new team harnessed.”

And that was the end of that.

As the coach got under way a second time, he stacked his arms on his chest and propped his boots beside her, as though he would sleep again. But this time, she did not hesitate to interrupt.

“Tulips,” she said. “So they’re the most beautiful sight. What about the ugliest?”

He shook his head. “Even if I could decide between the many contenders for that distinction … I’d never answer you that.”

“Never? Why not?”

“Because you should never witness the hell of war. You shouldn’t even hear about it secondhand. That’s the whole reason we were fighting, to spare innocent people like you such ugliness. I’ll be damned if I’ll personally acquaint you with it now.” He turned his head to the window. End of discussion.

She sighed, wishing he wouldn’t close himself off to her. If he only knew how much of his pain she’d already witnessed.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For your service. For fighting. I’d imagine you don’t hear that enough.” At least, he likely hadn’t heard it from anyone in the village, including her. “Your regiment was England’s most decorated, I understand.”

“Who told you that?”

“I read it in the newspaper once.” Or twice. Or several dozen times.

“I had the honor to serve with many good, valiant men.”

“And you were one of those good, valiant men. You led them.”

He shrugged. “I’m here. Far too many of them aren’t.”

She didn’t dare admit it, but she knew every last ribbon and medal and citation he’d been awarded. They numbered almost as many as his scars. The thought that he’d incurred them all with the vague idea he’d be sparing her and others a bit of ugliness …

“I admire you,” she said.

The poor man. He looked utterly panicked. As if she’d lobbed him a snarling weasel, rather than an honest compliment. Actually, he probably would have dealt with the weasel more handily.

“Truly, Rhys. I admire you. And I wish you’d allow yourself more credit for everything you’ve accomplished, instead of throwing it back on fate all the time.” She gave him a sly smile. “And to that end, I think I’ll honor you by hanging a plaque in the tavern, engraved with your name and rank. Our local war hero.”

He just laughed and rubbed his eyes. “There are all kinds of courage in the world, and most of it takes place far from battlefields.” His gaze caught hers, warm and honest. “That whole inn is a monument to your bravery, Meredith Lane Maddox. And I’m going to buy you every ribbon in Bath.”

Oh. A lump formed in her throat. And her heart … her heart just melted. It meant so much, that he recognized the hard work and love she’d poured into that place.

“What is it?” He leaned forward until his knees knocked against hers. “What’s troubling you?”

“I’m just a bit fatigued,” she lied.

He crossed to sit beside her, putting an arm about her shoulder and drawing her head to his chest. She breathed deeply, enjoying his comforting male scent.

“There, now,” he said. “Are you comfortable?”

She nodded.

“Then sleep. You’ve all day to rest.”

They fell into an easy, companionable silence, which somehow spoke more eloquently than any of their conversations. Impulsively, she reached out to take his free hand in hers. Their fingers tangled. His thumb settled over her wrist, and her pulse pounded against it. She couldn’t help but lean against him and snuggle into his warmth, under the guise of sleeping. But she was doing no such thing. She was wide awake, unwilling to miss a single moment. Scenery in entirely new shades of green was flitting by outside, and she might never have another chance to view it, but she couldn’t be bothered to lift her cheek from his lapel. Instead, she closed her eyes, scrupulously memorizing each sensation he caused within her. Every yearning, every thrill, every ache.