“Bastard!”His old friend groaned. “Why must you always do that?”
Wade laughed. “I’ve been bullying you for twenty years. You’d miss it if I stopped.”
Simon gave him a shove. This immature, school-boy brand of torment was their way. They had tussled and teased one another from the very start, but knew they could always count on each other.
“I suppose we’ll be brothers-in-law…” said Simon.
“More or less.”
His old friend grinned. “I’m alright with that.”
“You got your governess, at any rate.”
“And you got Cassandra.” Simon hesitated before continuing, “Octavia told me about her woman’s troubles. She seemed to believe marriage was out of the question.”
Wade watched his future wife trudge through a tidal pool. Foamy water swirled around her ankles. Her rosy cheeks were radiant, and—truly—he could not reconcile this vibrant woman with the miserable creature she became during menstruation.
There had been moments during her week of suffering when he’d feared she might die. Surely, no woman could bleed that much or endure such pain, yet Cassandra survived it again, and again, and again.
To him, she was not sickly.
She was strong.
Wade smiled as he answered a question that had not been asked, merely implied. “Cassie is a woman of great passion. She’s kind and clever, brave and…brazen. She has made me a better man, Simon. I’d be a fool not to want her for my wife.”
There would always be speculation about their marriage. Even his trustiest friend looked upon the relationship with curiosity. What happened in Wade and Cassandra’s bed was no one’s business. While she might share private details with her sisters—as was her right—the topic was too intimate for Wade to speak of, even with Simon.
Remembering that first night of lovemaking brought a tightness to his throat. Warmth bloomed in his chest, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, and Wade turned his face into the stinging wind to disguise the water welling in his eyes.
Simon dipped his head, decent enough not to notice. “I am happy for you.”
Wade nodded, but said nothing in return. He merely slapped his old friend on the back and gave his shoulder a squeeze. He wanted to tell Simon that he was happy for him, too, but couldn’t trust his voice not to waver.
Thankfully, the Staunton sisters dashed across the beach. They arrived in a flurry of wet skirts and sandy toes. Cassandra sank into his arms, breathless and giddy.
Wade pressed his nose to her temple. She smelled of lavender and seawater.
She snuggled into his embrace, unconcerned with making a spectacle in front of her prim elder sister. “All this activity has made me hungry! If we head back now, there will be plenty of time for sandwiches. We shan’t ruin our supper.”
“What is on the menu tonight, buttercup?”
Cassandra smiled up at him. She loved when he used her pet name. “I thought we might treat Octavia to that delicious mackerel pie—the one with the cream sauce.”
He knew she had slipped away before breakfast to confer with their cook. She was a hands-on mistress, meeting with the heads of staff to plan meals, discuss budgets, and simply keep on top of the household. This morning, she’d wanted to ensure everything would be perfect for Simon and Octavia’s visit.
Wade took Cassandra’s hand and helped her up. They collected their things from the beach and chased down their discarded hats, coats, stockings and garters. He turned his back to give his guests some privacy, and then walked a few paces across the sun-warmed sand.
Cassandra followed, struggling with her sodden, trailing hems. It would be a long slog up the cliffside passage and a mile walk back to Pender Abbey. He cursed himself for not ordering the barouche—though Cassandra had insisted on making the trek.
She wouldn’t have wanted the carriage, and it wasn’t his place to make that decision for her. He was lucky his stubborn future bride had worn a hat!
Wade paused by a flat slab of rock jutting from the sand. He lifted Cassandra by the waist and placed her upon the ledge. She rucked up her petticoats and offered her bare feet out to him.
She wiggled her toes. “Stockings, if you please.”
He produced the silk stockings and began to slowly, teasingly roll them up her calves. His fingers stroked the backs of her knees. He held his free hand out. “Garters, madam.”
Cassandra dropped the ribbons into his palm. He tied them, tracing his thumbs over the soft skin of her inner thighs. Wade glanced to spy a hot flush stain her cheeks.
