Had she no big dreams? No secret desires for something more exciting?
She hesitated, and then answered, “Yes.”
There was a yearning in her. Wade hungered to fan that spark to a flame. To nurture that kernel of want, and see it flourish and bloom.
London held no appeal to her, he knew. She and her sisters had refused their grandfather’s invitation to live in town. They had not—according to her—even been curious to visit.
If the glittering spectacle of civilization would not tempt her, perhaps the wilds of nature might turn her head…
“I’ve a place in Cornwall,” Wade said. “A mile from the sea. You can smell the salt air, and when the windows are open, you can hear the waves crashing in the cove. It is beautiful this time of year. The sun is always shining.”
She smiled. “That sounds lovely.”
He avoided the place like the plague. “I haven’t been in ages, though I long to see it now, in the height of summer. I crave those sandy beaches, and the windswept rocky cliffs, and all that warmth. There is nothing like the sea for a weary heart, Cassandra.”
She seemed smaller, somehow. Her straight spine and proud shoulders sagged. She curled her arms around her waist and asked, “Your heart is weary?”
“Did you think I did not have one?”
“I cannot help but thinkIam the cause of your disappointment,” she said. “I know why you came here, Wadebridge. I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”
He stopped in the center of the lane. There was no chance of encountering a cart. No danger at all. “Because of your poor health?”
Would she have him if things were different?
“Yes,” she said, stepping closer. Her skirt hems brushed the toe of his boots. “Because of that. Do you truly think I want to remain in Longstone for the rest of my life? To live as an impoverished spinster? To die a virgin without ever knowing love, or passion, or partnership with another soul?”
She reached out to him—a bold move in the middle of her village, where anyone might look out and see them together.
Cassandra gripped his hand with surprising strength. “If I could be a true wife to you, I would marry you tomorrow. You are kind, thoughtful, and loyal. You’re brave, and tough, and just a little bit difficult. You are dangerous in the very best way, Your Grace, for you make me want to be exactly like you.”
She tugged insistently at his hand, drawing him to her, wrapping his arm around her corseted waist. Wade held her tightly, pressing her body against his. Wide, hoop skirts were crushed by his thighs meeting hers.
Cassandra snaked her fingers up his lapel, over his collar, his jawline, to plunge her fingertips into his hair. Without a care for her reputation, she lifted her lips to brush his. Their mouths met, and Wade swore his knees went weak.
For so long, he had yearned to touch her, to hold her, to taste her, and now it was truly happening. She was with him, warm, and soft, and wanting. Real. In the flesh.
Their lips moved, tentative at first, and feather-light. She peppered kisses along his mouth, from corner to corner, growing hungrier. Her fingers stroked his temples, bracketing his cheeks, palming his face, urging him to meet her kiss for kiss.
Wade moaned.
She panted, open-mouthed. Cassandra rested her forehead against his chest and smiled.
“You’ve been kissed before.”
She nodded, breathless. “Yes.”
He grinned.Of course, she had.“Trust the most beautiful woman in Britain to know how to kiss.”
Cassandra laughed, arching up to nuzzle his bottom lip with the tip of her nose. Teasing him.
Wade reached to tilt her chin, raising her posture, stretching her spine to that straight, proud carriage he knew so well. He claimed her mouth with a rough kiss that would send even the most experienced hearts reeling, and then he lifted her so that when she opened her eyes, they stood equal.
Eye-to-eye. Chest-to-chest.
Heart-to-heart.
“Oh…” she said, fluttering long lashes over wide blue eyes.“Wadebridge.”
