Cassie laughed, then stood up and crossed to the window. She saw her brother and Ann walking the same cliff path she’d walked the other day. It looked like Ann was pointing at the sheep she’d seen the other day, for her brother nodded and they walked in that direction along the cliff edge.
She sighed. She envied her brother’s happiness. He’d found the perfect woman for his wife. Ann was gentle and sweet, but intermixed with intelligence and a sense of fun. Her brother needed her sense of fun. He’d become far too serious since becoming the Duke of Ellinbourne. And with Ann, he did not have to deny his art for his title. She loved who he was, as he was.
She turned to look back to where Lakehurst stood by the desk, staring at her. She smiled.
“I see my brother and Ann, sketchbooks in hand, walking down the cliff path.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ellinbourne without a sketchbook,” Lakehurst said.
“Not often,” Cassie admitted. She turned to look back out the window.
Lakehurst came up behind. He gently pulled her back against him. She allowed her head to fall back to rest against his chest as he wrapped his large arms gently around her. She felt the steady beat of his heart.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” he whispered.
“As I said the other day, for being who you are,” she answered simply.
“And who is that?” he asked with a low chuckle. He brushed his chin across the top of her head.
She took a deep, relaxing breath, then let it out slowly. “A caring man,” she said. “A man who uses his size for protection, not intimidation. I feel safe, something I haven’t felt in a long time,” she said with a curious lilt to her voice. She wondered when during her marriage to the Marquess of Darkford she’d stopped feeling safe. He’d always been pleasant and respectful to her; however, she’d never felt safe, that she could recall. Odd to think of that now.
“I’ve fallen in love with you,” he said.
She stiffened again, then turned in his arms, placing her hands against his chest. “Please, don’t…” she said, her voice hurting.
“Why not?” he asked. He kissed the top of her head. “I can’t help that I fell in love with you when you threw my book across the room.”
Cassie felt a shiver run through her body. She closed her eyes as she wanted to melt into him. She laid her forehead against his chest.
“I don’t know that I am ready. Or that I ever shall be,” she wailed. “If only I’d met you instead of Richard six years ago. We might have had a chance.”
“Why do we not have a chance now?” he asked gently. He brushed a thumb against the side of her cheek. She leaned into his hand without thinking, savoring his touch.
He bent his head down to touch her lips with his. She looked up into his eyes with wonder.
Shouts and the clattering of boots running down the hall broke them apart.
The door to the study burst open.
“Carlyle’s dead!” said Henry, gasping for breath.
“Dead!” repeated Cassie, stunned.
Henry nodded.
“Where?” Lakehurst demanded, coming toward the man.
“Down the cliff.”
Lakehurst ran out of the room. Cassie gathered her skirts in her hand and ran after him.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Carlyle
Lakehurst ran to where Ellinbourne, Ann, and his coachman, John Norton, stood at the cliff edge, Ann’s face buried in Ellinbourne’s jacket.
