Page 11 of A Second Chance for Carys
“Dewi?”
She flushed, looking caught out. It was not the first time he’d heard her express her inner feelings out loud. In fact, it was one of the many things he liked about her. She was never ashamed of what she thought, so much so that she allowed everyone to hear it.
“My late husband. He promised me he would take me there one day. We never made the effort to organize the outing, though, thinking we could go any time we wanted. And we could have. Only, we didn’t, and in the end, he died without having seen it. I wish it had been different, because it would have taken little effort to actually go.”
The confession, so simple, so heartfelt, moved him. He, too, had planned to do things with Joanne, things he had not been able to find the courage to do without her. His heart went to Carys because he understood exactly what she meant. These little things had a way of being swallowed by life’s hectic pace. You promised yourself to do something, but because it wasunimportant or seemed easy to organize, you put them to one side, for a moment when you had nothing better to do.
And then one day, before you knew it, it was too late.
“The sea is not so far from here,” he told her, barely resisting the urge to take her hand in his. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you there.”
Tomorrow. There would be no delay, no excuses, no chance to refuse. Suddenly nothing seemed more important that this little thing. Because it was with Carys.
When she looked up at him, her blue eyes were sparkling, just like the surface of the sea when the sun reflected over it. His breath caught in his chest. Beautiful.
“Would you really? Oh, I would love that.”
Yes, he would take her there. Nothing would stop him, if it was going to give her such pleasure. He would take her there and watch the wonder on her face.
“I’ll come to find you tomorrow. Be ready at dawn.”
“There it is, between the trees.”
Carys frowned and peered into the distance. “Are you certain this is it?”
“I am.” James laughed at her obvious discomfiture. “Let me guess. You expected something more spectacular.”
There was no denying it. All she could see was a gray band floating ahead of them, barely distinguishable from the horizon, framed by slightly disheveled trees. This first glimpse was underwhelming to say the least.Thiswas the sea? She had spent so long dreaming about this moment that she could not help feeling somewhat deflated. Perhaps she could have spared herself the trouble of coming all this way.
“Wait,” James said, sensing her disappointment. “Give it a second chance. Sometimes first impressions are misleading. We are still some distance away but you might think differently once you get nearer and see it for what it really is.”
“Are you still talking about the sea?” she muttered.
He cocked his head and gave her a blinding smile, the likes of which she had never thought to see on his face. It transformed him. She didn’t have time to bask in it, however, because then he asked, “Of course. What else would I be talking about?”
Go drapia! She’d spoken aloud again. Would she never get rid of this silly habit of hers? Since he’d heard her, she decided to brazen it out. “I thought perhaps you would be talking about yourself?”
“Me?” He arched a brow in surprise.
“Well, you are rather gruff on first acquaintance, wouldn’t you say? Or even on second or third.”
“I don’t know, I…Am I?”
He sounded so genuinely put out that she regretted the tease. He hadn’t been gruff toward her, exactly. Most of the impression might have been due to the fact that he looked so forbidding in black—and that they hadn’t been able to understand one another. Because now that she knew him, she saw that he was remarkably even-tempered for such a virile man.
“It wasn’t so bad,” she soothed. “I expect it was inevitable I should think you gruff when I didn’t understand what you were telling me.”
“No, it wasn’t inevitable. Words are one thing, attitude another. I hope I didn’t give you the impression I wanted to rip your head off.”
Rip her head off?She laughed out loud at the unlikely image. She doubted anything would rile James Mortimer so much as to make him lash out at someone. He simply didn’t seem to be the kind of man who would allow his temper to overrule him thus.
“Oh, no. Nothing so dramatic as that,” she assured him. He nodded, still looking less than pleased. Why had she thought to tease him? How had she not guessed a man as serious as he was wouldn’t respond well to it? “Shall we?” she asked, hoping to put an end to the moment. “I can’t wait to get a closer look at the sea.”
They walked on. When she had confessed not to be a skilled rider, James had made sure to saddle for her the mount she had used to come from Wales. She was an old mare with a placid disposition, nothing like the spirited stallion—boasting a shiny black coat, naturally—that he’d chosen for himself. Not having to worry about falling down allowed Carys to relax and focus on the landscape around them. And it was beautiful, a succession of rolling hills and gnarled old trees. The air was scented with the proximity of the sea, she guessed, and she inhaled the brine deeply. It certainly smelled different, sharper than what she was used to. After having followed a narrow track through the woods, they came to a bend—and there it was.
The mare stopped.
Carys gaped.
