Page 70 of Taylor’s Warrior

“Then in that case, I should warn you—the roads might seem a little… claustrophobic for you. Wide, open spaces here aren’t on the same scale as Texas.”

She gave him one of her warmest smiles, the ones he particularly cherished. “I’m sure I’ll cope. In case it isn’t obvious, I can’t wait to see more of the place you come from.”

That was what she did. Every day she said or did something that made him love her even more.

And yet… unless he missed his guess, something was bothering her. He didn’t think she was starting to regret their trip, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions. “You know, you can tell me if anything’s worrying you.”

His heart rate kicked up a notch when she didn’t answer immediately—something it hadn’t even done in the sandbox, when he and his unit had encountered a heavily armed swarm of the enemy that had them vastly outnumbered.

“What if they don’t like me?”

He wasn’t about to insult her by pretending not to know what she meant, but before he could comment, she continued.

“What if your parents have secretly harbored a wish for you to date a nice girl from the next village up the valley, not some brash American?”

There was so much wrong with Taylor’s question, he was tempted to park up in the approaching lay-by so he could unpick it syllable by syllable. However, they were both tired, and he could do that later, once they arrived at their destination. For now, though, he’d settle for the abridged version.

“I’ve met plenty of brash Americans since I moved to Texas—you are not one of them. As for the rest of it, that is a conversation we will be having later. Right now, all I’m going to tell you is that none of it applies. I mean, are you crazy? How could they not like the woman their favorite son loves?”

“You’re their only son, remember?”

How could he forget? He’d been brought up surrounded by sisters, not to mention their bevy of fragrant, feminine besties—especially when, as teenagers on the cusp of womanhood, they’d taken to hurling themselves at him when he’d come home on leave after he’d joined the army. His unerring sense of self-preservation had prevented him from catching any of them. “A minor detail. What makes you think they won’t like you when they meet you for real?”

“I don’t speak Welsh. Not properly, and not enough.”

Not for want of trying. For a non-native speaker, she’d done well in the few weeks since she’d asked him to teach her a few words and phrases, ready for their trip. “You know something? If you greet them the way I taught you, even if your pronunciation isn’t as perfect as you’d like, they’ll love you forever for making the effort. They’ll also love you forever because I’ll love you forever.”

He felt it in every fiber of his being—he and this woman were meant to grow old together.

“You really mean that? You sound so sure.”

“Yes, I mean it, and I sound sure because I am sure. Stop worrying. Trust me—everything will be fine. Better than fine. Look, the sun’s coming out—that proves it.”

It didn’t prove anything of the kind, of course, but it was enough to block the path Taylor’s thoughts were taking and divert them to a happier place. His life’s mission would be to ensure she always had a happier place; he knew she was there by the joy in her laughter.

“You know something? I’ll love you forever, too.”

>>><<<

Not only had the sun come out, a rainbow had blessed them with its multi-colored glory in the general direction in which they were heading.

After confessing her concerns to Rhys, Taylor settled in for the rest of the journey in a considerably better frame of mind, improved even more by immersion in countryside that the tourism websites simply hadn’t done justice. She’d fallen in love with the images online, but reality was so much better. And once they left the freeway—motorway—it only got better. The peace of it all—rolling green fields and tree-covered hills—made it seem as if their last flight had taken them through a mystical portal, to another dimension far removed from the reality that included the many sins of Charles Markham.

No. She was not going to let that sickening excuse for a human being intrude on her newfound heaven.

“That was a deep sigh. What are you thinking about?”

Rhys’ quiet concern emphasized his accent—or was it just being in the wonderful country from where it originated? Taylor wasn’t sure, but she’d happily listen to him recite a grocery list. “Oh, this and that. Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

There was something else she didn’t know, and somehow, she’d never gotten around to asking. “You still haven’t told me where we’re staying. I don’t want to impose on your family.”

His cheek twitched. “Don’t worry, we won’t be imposing on anyone. My family home is a farm. There’s plenty of room.”

Taylor’s eyebrows rose. Rhys grew up on a farm?

“It used to be a sheep farm,” he continued. “Generations of my family on my father’s side raised sheep, but my parents decided to diversify a few years ago. The market was changing. They already knew none of us were in a position to take on the farm as it was, so when they sold the last of their livestock, they already had plans in place for a change of purpose.”

“To?”