Page 79 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
“I’ll deal with Missie,” Liam offered.
“No, it’s fine. I always take care of my own mount. It’s a habit.”
He nodded, smiling. “A very good habit. Do you remember where everything is?”
“I think so.”
She unfastened the girth and lifted off the saddle, carried it into the tack room and wiped it off. Then she removed the bridle, rinsed the bit under the yard tap and hung it up on one of the hooks along the back wall.
Then she filled a bucket and sponged Missie down lightly, checking for any rubs or chafing, and ran her hands down her legs, finally picking up each foot to check her hoofs and pick out bits of compacted mud.
When she was finished, she led the mare over to the trough and let her take a drink before letting her through the five-barred gate into the grassy paddock behind the house. The horse whickered and trotted off happily to join her friends.
* * *
Liam had watched Cassie with Missie as she had ridden beside him. He had been confident that she knew what she was doing. She’d always been a good rider — her hands relaxed, her seat easy in the saddle.
And Missie had seemed quite happy. Like many horses, she was inclined to fidget and try to assert herself if she didn’t respect the person riding her.
Okay, he had just wanted to watch her. She was graceful and efficient in her movements — and that neat backside in those well-fitting jeans would make any red-blooded male’s pulse rate soar.
For the past week and a half the memory of holding her in his arms as they had danced at Debbie and Bill’s wedding had haunted his dreams — and had too often intruded when he was awake. That slender, supple body, the subtle fragrance she wore . . . Those memories would linger long after she was gone.
She had just let Missie through the gate into the paddock, and turned as he brought Hector up.
“Well . . . Goodbye.” She smiled — he did like that smile. “Um . . . Thanks for letting me ride her again. I really enjoyed it.”
“That’s okay. Missie enjoyed it too.” Somehow he managed to push the words past the tension in his throat. “I’ll see you on Saturday then.”
“Oh yes, of course. See you then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Chapter Fourteen
The church was looking its very best, the pews gleaming with polish and the altar banked with white roses and gardenias, their sweet fragrance filling the air.
The bells in the tower were ringing out into the clear blue sky, the afternoon sun was beaming through the stained-glass windows casting jewel colours across the white altar cloth, and the soft music of the organ was drifting up to the vaulted ceiling.
The pews were full. Cassie had settled with Lisa near the front, Lisa with little Kyra on her lap. The tot looked as pretty as a picture in a dainty pink dress, with a pink headband that sported a pink fabric flower.
“I just hope she stays this quiet,” Lisa murmured. “If she starts grizzling I’ll have to take her outside.”
“Vicky and Tom won’t mind if she cries,” Cassie assured her. “Anyway, she’s been fed and nappied — she’ll probably fall asleep. Has Ollie got his Best Man speech ready?”
Her sister laughed softly. “He’s rewritten it about twenty times. I’ve never known him be so nervous — not even when we got married.”
Their mother turned from the pew in front. “When you got married, he was so hungover from getting drunk with Tom and Paul the night before, he didn’t know what day of the week it was,” she remarked dryly. “And you weren’t in a much better state yourself.”
“Oh dear.” Lisa hunched her shoulders and slid down in the pew. “I hoped you wouldn’t remember that.”
“I’m your mother — I remember everything. As your two will find out as time goes on.”
Cassie’s eyes danced. “Didn’t you say something once about being respectable?” she whispered.
“That was eight years ago.”
A murmur ran around the pews as the organist began playing the familiar strains of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’, and heads turned as the bridal party appeared in the church doorway. Vicky looked as graceful and serene as a swan on her stepfather’s arm as they moved slowly down the aisle.
