He laughed, as well, but swore that the hot red flush staining her cheeks was nothing so vulgar as a ‘sunburn’. “It is the glow of a woman who is…satisfied.”
Cassandra gaped at him in mock horror. “You are presumptuous, sir!”
Wade was unfazed by her ladylike sensibilities—lax though they had become—and pulled her into his arms. He coaxed a kiss from her upturned lips. “Don’t I have a right to presume that I’ve satisfied you? You certainly seemed so this morning…”
“Mmm.” She sighed, leaning into his embrace, deepening their kiss. “I do recall I was not the only one satisfied, Your Grace. But Iamthe only one of us who is prone to sunburns.”
“You will tell me any time you’re not feeling…ah, sunburned, won’t you?”
Cassandra pulled away, squeezing his hand tightly as she vowed, “I will, Wade. Of course, I will.”
She did not think there would ever be such a time when she was not satisfied. Though their lives together would not be perfect, she imagined they would always be happy. They’d found their way through her illness, her week of suffering and misery, and forged a path that suited them both.
There was nothing they could not face together.
Cassandra and Wade continued down the gravel trail that led to the cliffs. Fuchsia and scrubby lavender lined the footpath. The sky was alive with the glad cry of gulls, and she felt her heart soar like one of those seabirds.
Shewasradiant.
With Wade, she was so blissfully happy.
They reached the edge of the high cliff and placed their hamper on the grass overlooking the cove. They had begun to call it ‘Cassandra’s Cove’, and treated it as their own private part of the world—away from the busy household and the prying eyes of servants. Here, she and Wade could sit on the ground and serve themselves.
He opened the hamper, retrieved a bottle of lemonade, and pulled the stopper free with a loudpop. Cassandra settled onto the blanket, making sure to smooth any wrinkles and brush away any stray bits of grass.
Wade stretched out upon the cleaned space. He filled two glasses, passing one to her. She unwrapped their pasties and handed the largest over to him in return.
Cassandra sipped while Wade ate.
“I still have not heard from Honoria,” she said. “Do you think she’s grown cross with me for leaving her?”
“Possibly,” he replied with his mouth full. Wade gulped down a swallow of lemonade, and then clarified, “Why don’t you write Octavia and find out for certain?”
“And tell her what, that I am a duke’s mistress? That I want to bring Honoria here to join me in luxury, whileshe—the eldest and best of us—must continue working as a governess?”
“That’s rather unfair to me, don’t you think? Have I asked you to make a choice between your sisters and this life we share?”
“No, of course not, Wade,” she said, turning to him. She pressed a hand to his shirt sleeve, for he had shed his sack coat. “I am not ready to face her yet. I thought with Honoria here, there’d be strength in numbers—Hon may be the baby of the family, but she has never wanted for boldness.”
Wade smiled. “You’ve all the backbone you need, buttercup. Your sisters will come ‘round when they’re ready. Doubtless, Honoria has been relishing her reign as the new queen of Longstone, and—with all due respect—I don’t believe Octavia will remain governess for much longer.”
“Oh, yes, you still believe there is a romance blooming between my sister and Lord Althorne,” she nibbled a corner of the Cornish pasty she held, saying, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He plucked the pasty from her hand. “Are you opposed to the institution of marriage?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I think marriage is perfectly lovely. My parents were happily married, and I know Octavia and Lord Althorne will be equally fortunate, should anything come of their friendship.”
“What about us, then?”
Cassandra blinked at him. He’d stolen her luncheon, now he was playing tricks with her mind. What on earth was he doing fishing through the pocket of his silk waistcoat?
“I thought we were discussing marriage, Wade. How did we get onto the subject of us?”
He grinned, at last finding whatever he sought in his pocket. “We are discussing marriage, and weareon the subject of us.”
His words faded in her ears, drowned out by the roaring of the waves in the cove and the rush of blood through her veins. She felt giddy. She felt…confused.
Wade took her hand—her left hand—and lifted it from the blanket. “I did not only send for the pearls, you know. They could have waited. This, however, could not.”
