From London With Love

10 | as you bike it

Ophelia was beginning to have serious doubts about Andrew's ability to operate a bicycle.

She glanced behind her at where the man in question was huffing and puffing, cycling his long legs like a hamster in a wheel. His blond hair was scattered by the sea freeze, sticking up in odd clumps. She bit back a smile.

"I thought you were meant to be athletic."

"I am athletic!"

"Maybe you should stick to your tricycle," Ophelia suggested mildly. "That extra wheel clearly went a long way."

Andrew muttered something distinctly uncomplimentary.

Ophelia turned back around again. Carne Beach unfurled before her, a splash of white sand sheltered by a grassy cliff. Other than a couple walking a dog, the beach was deserted. She breathed in a lungful of salty air.

"Hang on," she called. "Let's stop for a bit."

"Oh, thank god," Andrew muttered.

They parked their bikes at the edge of the sand. Ophelia raced down to the water, whooping as she kicked off her shoes. Andrew stared at her.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Going in the water."

"In November?"

She shrugged. "No time like the present." She waded into the water, hissing out a breath as the freezing water hit her ankles. "Gosh, that's cold."

Andrew gave her an "I-told-you-so" look. Ophelia pointedly ignored it.

She splashed around a little, reveling in the endless water. They had a lake in Toronto, of course, but it was nothing compared to this; there was something special about the sea. It made her feel as if she was a child again, when everything was bigger than her. Even a table leg had been mysterious, and worth discovering.

Ophelia splashed back to the shore, pulling on her shoes.

Andrew had plopped down on the beach, his long legs sprawled in front of him. His eyes were fixed on the water as she approached.

"Father and I used to come here," he said. "When I was little."

Ophelia paused. "You did?"

"Yes."

She took a seat beside him, her mouth suddenly dry. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it certainly wasn't that.

"He's sick, isn't he?"

Andrew nodded. "Cancer. Lungs, to be specific."

"I'm sorry."

Andrew shrugged. A muscle was working in his jaw, and his shoulders were stiff. Before Ophelia was fully aware of what she was doing, she took his hand, lacing their fingers together.

Andrew tensed, but didn't pull away.

She nibbled her lip. "Is that why you want to marry her?"

"Eleanora?"

"No. Penny, your cook."

Andrew's lips twitched. "Don't be stupid," he said. "I fancy our driver Linda much more." His smile faded as he looked down at their interlocked hands. "You know, Father once told me that Eleanora would make a good life partner. He said she was the type of girl that always knew just what to say, and exactly when to say it."

Ophelia swallowed. Her stomach suddenly felt tight, as if someone had reached into her gut and wrung it out like a washcloth.

"Sounds like your mind is made up."