The magnificence of this windswept, sandy cove nearly brought her to her knees. Wade’s fingers flexed at her hips, cradling her skirts, stroking the delicate muslin. She felt utterly small standing before an endless horizon, and pathetically weak compared to the turmoil of the sea, yet Cassandra knew she was safe in Wade’s arms.
***
“What do you think?” He was forever asking her opinion, desperate to know what she thought about everything from the beauty of the Cornish coast to the softness of the pillows on her bed. Nothing was too trivial. It all mattered.
He did not need to ask today—the awestruck look on her face told Wade everything he needed to know—but he wanted to hear the woman he loved realize her dream.
“Oh, Wade! It’s wonderful! It’s…wondrous!” She laughed and shook her head. “I cannot form the words to describe it!”
Cassandra leaned back against his chest. He rested his chin atop her head, for she’d worn no hat. Her dark curls were tied with a purple ribbon, and the ends tickled his nose as they fluttered in the breeze.
“Is this as close as we can get?” she asked.
“What?”
“To the sea.” She pointed to the cove below. “Can’t we go down there?”
Certainly, they could, as there was a foot passage and steps cut into the rock. Someday, he would teach her to swim and take her bathing, and once she felt comfortable in the water, he’d take her sailing.
He owned a steam yacht harbored near Padstow, which had been an extravagance he’d flaunted before the Wadebridge trustees. It sat idle for years, but might serve a happier purpose now. He would rechristen it‘Cassandra’and present it as a gift to her.
But not today.
“We had better save that excursion for another day.” The trek down the cliff face was arduous, and Wade worried they might reach the bottom only to become stranded by the tide. He dared not risk Cassandra’s safety.
“Butmaywe go?” she asked, turning in his arms to face him.
Did she think he’d forbid it? He had no intention of stifling her liberty, as she was a woman fully-grown and capable of making her own decisions. Once she knew the lay of the land, Cassandra would be free to move about the estate as she pleased.
He smiled into blue eyes that rivaled the sky. “I’d be a fool to try and keep you from the sea. We’ll pick a morning, come in the carriage, and spend all afternoon with our toes in the sand.” Wade stroked her cheek, smoothing a windblown curl back from her soft skin. “Would that please you?”
Cassandra grinned and leaned into his touch. “Very much so.”
Then it would be done, for she was a woman of action, and he was a man of his word. He’d known the sea shore all his life, but if this simple outing brought her joy, nothing could keep his bare feet from the breakers.
Wade released her, letting his hands fall away from her hips, so that she could return her bright eyes to the cove. She did not seem to notice the absence of his touch, and since she stood at a safe enough distance from the cliff’s edge, he let her look her fill.
He sank down onto the scrubby grass. Wade stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles—never mind the sad state of his scuffed boots—and enjoyed a different sort of view.
Cassandra Staunton was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Beautiful of mind. Beautiful of spirit. Beautiful of heart. He wanted her desperately in all the ways a man might want a woman.
Wade couldn’t help but admire her shapely figure set against the horizon. Slender curves were on display, for the checked muslin day dress she wore was cinched at the waist with a belt. Dark curls fluttered from the purple ribbon that bound them to her crown. Sea breezes whipped her hair, whipped her skirts. Flounced hems swirled about her ankles.
She looked free and easy, and utterly at home on the cliffs.
“It’s so lovely! I can’t tear my eyes away!”
“My sentiments exactly,” said Wade, softly.
Cassandra gathered her wide skirts in her hands and moved to join him on the grass. She paid no heed to the hard, unforgiving earth that might stain her pretty muslin. She stretched out next to him, rested her head upon his chest, and sighed into his lapel.
He knew a happy woman when he held one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Every moment spent with Wadebridge seemed better than the last. Oh, difficult days would certainly come, for no one could live a trouble-free life, but she looked forward to facing whatever fate blew their way.
The sea, the sun, and the steady rise and fall of her lover’s chest brought the greatest joy, and a contentment Cassandra had not known since her parents’ death. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine all was well with the world.
