“Wade?”
He spun to face her, no doubt grinning like a love-struck fool. He didn’t even bother to cover himself.
She raked her dark curls from her eyes and asked, “Were you slipping away?”
Was that what she thought, that he would leave her cold in his bed? After all they’d shared?
“I went to close the shutters, but was distracted by the view. The river is lovely—sometimes it is easy to forget with the sea roaring on the other side of the headland. Would you care to see?”
Cassandra sat up, fumbling for the bedsheets to hide her nakedness. She hauled a corner of linens over her bosom and gaped at him. “Stand in front of the window in nothing but my skin? I think not.”
He laughed and bounded across the carpet. Wade gathered her—bedsheets and all—into his arms and hauled her from the mattress. She squealed and kicked her feet, yet she draped her arms ‘round his neck.
Cassandra buried her smiling face into his scratchy whiskers. “Hmm, that’s new. Your cheeks are usually so smooth.” She nuzzled his throat. “You need a shave.”
How could he be so careless? He’d been shaving twice per day so as to not rasp her. “I shall see it remedied immediately.”
But Cassandra only scratched his stubble and remarked, “It’s terribly manly. I like it.”
He grinned. “Then perhaps I’ll let my whiskers stay untilafterwe break our fast.”
Wade placed her before the open window. When he felt her feet were firmly on the floorboards, he turned her loose.
She gripped the bedsheets to her breasts and surveyed the world from their window. “The water is so calm. What a sight to wake up to!”
He wasn’t looking at the river when he replied, “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
Wade remembered how passionate she’d been last night, how she had opened like a blossom in his arms. Was there anything so splendid as watching the woman he loved discover pleasure?
She offered one hand out to him. “Come here, Wade.”
He let her pull him close, and enveloped her sheet-clad figure in a tight embrace. They kissed hungrily. Surely, his desire was evident, as Wade wanted nothing more than to carry her to bed and have his wicked way.
Or, rather, let her haveherwicked way, for Cassandra’s hands were not idle.
Fingertips traced where the sun touched his unfashionably bronzed skin. Her mouth nibbled from his lips to his cheeks, and then dragged down his stubbly throat.
He leaned into her touch, letting her fill her hands. “Since you’ve bade me not to shave, I do wonder how we’ll pass the time from now till breakfast…”
Thankfully, his clever lover had some ideas.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
They walked hand-in-hand along the gravel path. Cassandra wore sprigged muslin—the same frock she’d donned for the garden party at Caswell Hall, which seemed a lifetime ago. Indeed, shehadlived a different life in those days, far removed from the sea and the man she now loved.
In his free hand, Wade carried a picnic hamper filled with Cornish pasties, tarts, and lemonade, which she had requested from the kitchens.
Pender Abbey was very much her home. The staff respected her, deferred to her. Wade never seemed to mind that she’d taken over the management of the household, or that there were sweets and puddings added to the menu every night, if only just for her.
Cassandra’s authority in the domestic sphere gave His Grace an opportunity—and, perhaps, some inspiration—to better focus on ducal matters. They’d formed an effective, satisfying partnership.
The ribbons of her wide, straw hat fluttered in the salty breeze. She lifted her head to let the full force of the sun warm her face.
There were moments when Cassandra could not believe her good fortune, or that she had managed to steal such happiness in a world that owed her nothing.
Wade caught her eye and smiled. “You are radiant today, buttercup. What has you beaming, I wonder?”
She blushed, laughing. “I believe this is sunburn.”
