He took the seat he’d obviously been using before tossing bits of sausage to Henry and picked up the teapot to fill her cup.
She helped herself to some eggs and sausages.
“Well, perhaps if my wife were less demanding in her requirements, she would get more sleep.”
Her face warmed, but she couldn’t help a smile.
“I shall keep that in mind.”
He handed her the teacup, and she knew he deliberately brushed her fingers with his.
“Now, you’ll want to eat up. We have a long day ahead of us.”
She raised both eyebrows as she swallowed a bite of egg. “We do?”
He nodded seriously. “Today you meet the ocean. I should think you’d want your strength for that.”
At just his words, a thrill shot through her. “You’re taking me down to the ocean?”
Something passed over his eyes at her eagerness, but she couldn’t have said what.
He smiled softly and said, “Of course. Weren’t you looking forward to it?”
She nodded, poking at a sausage patty. “Yes, absolutely, but don’t you have estate affairs to tend to? I’d assume the steward would wish to speak to you after your absence.”
His expression was pained as he said, “He’s already stepped in. He wants to discuss the results of the new breeding tactics we instituted this spring.”
She paused with her eggs halfway to her mouth.
“Breeding tactics?”
He picked up his own teacup with a nod. “Yes, Sheridan is very particular about his breeding methods.” He gestured with the cup. “I can’t fault the man. His results are exemplary.”
“But what are you breeding?”
He swallowed his tea. “Cattle.”
She set down her fork. “You have livestock on your estate?”
He paused, a slow smile coming to his lips, and she realized she’d given herself away.
“Would you like to see them in our travels today, Your Grace? We have pigs and lambs as well.” He cast a glance at Henry who was now gleefully rolling in the grass just off the stone steps leading down into the garden. “Perhaps we’ll save the lambs for another day when Henry may be inclined to other activities.”
Only too late did she realize just quite how excited she was to discover her new home. It wouldn’t do to forget she was still disappointed in Ashbourne. But that could wait. She set aside her napkin.
“Shall we begin?”
He didn’t recall the cliff being this precarious and potentially lethal. How many times had he run down the length of the rutted path leading to the water’s edge without a thought to his safety? He’d even traversed it barefoot and carrying his various fishing poles and bait.
But in every turn he saw catastrophic danger to his wife. With every step, he ensured his foot was solid before allowing her to step down, even while firmly keeping her hand in his. She’d tried to bat away his assistance, but once they’d turned onto the path in the cliff face, she’d gladly taken his hand.
Henry, however, was already at the bottom. He could see the dog spraying sand as he sprinted from one edge of the beach to the other.
If he were honest, Eliza was more than sturdy in her descent, and even though she had taken his hand, he was sure before long she would be taking this path all by herself.
Perhaps with one or two of their little ones in tow.
He wasn’t sure where the thought had come from, but after last night, he wasn’t surprised it had. He studied her face as the sun dappled it through the sparse shrubs that clung to the cliffside. Had he never before noticed the way her attention was so precise, so genuine? Had he never before noticed the way her hair changed color in the sunlight? One might have thought it a mousy brown, but it wasn’t at all. When the sun struck it he saw weaves of reds and chestnut.
Not that he could see much. The bonnet she wore was ridiculous by any length, but he knew it was likely demanded by propriety, and it would keep the sun out of her eyes. So he would manage with his disappointment in not seeing all of her glorious hair.
For it was as glorious as he thought it would be.
He had been selfish enough during the night to fulfill every detail he’d been imagining since he’d first taken in the thickness of her mane. The way it fell down her back, darkness against the pearl of her bare back. How he could wrap it in his hands as he cradled her face for another exquisite kiss.
God, he couldn’t think of that right now. He was still trying to get them to the bottom without killing them both.
The path leveled out near the end, dropping gracefully to the beach below, but even when the danger had abated, she did not release his hand, and he tried to ignore the flare of pleasure it caused him.
Once their feet touched sand, he paused, giving her a moment to soak in what he knew was a spectacular sight.
Along this stretch of cliff, the land turned slightly inward, tucking the Ashbourne beach into a natural cove, shielded from the most turbulent of the ocean waves. Cliffs rose up on either side of the cerulean water as if marking the space for display like a painting in a museum. Specks of jagged rock dotted the surface of the water in places as the cove stretched out to the ocean proper, and waves crashed against them with a brilliant force of foaming whites and greens and blues. Seagulls screeched overhead as they searched for their next meal, and Henry barked gloriously at them.
Eliza said nothing.
He studied her face, drank in her expression as she stared out at the cove before them.
“Is it to your liking?” He didn’t know why he asked the question. It wasn’t as if he could control the movement of the ocean, but right then it was vitally important that she like it. Alarm coursed through him, and he knew he was treading dangerously close to the very thing he had meant to avoid.
He scanned the beach around them, a lifetime of memories flooding back to him without permission.
As a child he’d played on this very beach with Ronald and Bethany. It was hard to believe how different things were now.
“It’s beautiful.”
Her voice brought his attention back to her, and with it, the memories receded.
Her pleasure showed in her slightly parted lips and wide eyes.
Her attention shifted from the water to him. “May I touch it?”
He realized she spoke of the water.
He shook his head gravely. “No.”
Her face fell for an instant.
“Not with your boots on. It’s a known rule that boots are not allowed on beaches. Only bare feet.”
She let go of his hand to place a fist against one hip. “Your boots are touching the beach, Your Grace.”
He looked down as if surprised to find boots on his feet.
“Well, aren’t I the idiot?”
He dropped to the beach without ceremony, landing with a thud in the soft sand as he wrenched his boots off, one after the other, tossing them unseen behind him.
Her laughter rivaled with the screech of gulls and Henry’s barking.
She sobered and gathering her skirts in her hands, extended a single foot.
“While you are down there, would you mind?”
He set to work untying her boots, and soon he’d cast both of them aside, but he couldn’t help but stare at her ankles. While he’d seen all of her the previous night, it didn’t detract from the pleasure he took in seeing parts of her others were not privileged to see.