Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels, #6)

by Lisa Kleypas

“I’ll be your oyster,” Tom broke in.

“I’ll marry you,” Tom told her. “Any time. Any terms.”

“You’re not too plump,” he said gruffly. “The more of you there is in the world, the better.” As far as compliments went, it wasn’t exactly eloquent, or even appropriate. But amusement sparkled in the one blue eye that was visible before Cassandra vanished.

Before his friend could say a word, Tom asked urgently, “Can I have her?” “No.” “I have to have her, let me have her—” “No.”

“Lady Cassandra is never going to marry you, Severin,” West said in exasperation. “But she’s what I’ve always wanted.”

The way he listened to her was so very flattering, so careful and interested, as if he were collecting her words like flowers to be pressed in a book.

“Haven’t you ever liked someone or something right away, without knowing exactly why, but feeling sure you would discover the reasons later?”

“Severin,” he said carefully, “two years ago, I had the incredible arrogance to offer Helen’s hand in marriage to Rhys Winterborne as if she were an hors d’oeuvre on a tray.” “Yes, I know. May I have one too?”

a trio of tiny taxidermied goldcrests perched on a branch, encased in the airless isolation of a glass dome.

“I made a promise to myself: When Cassandra is happily married, I’m going to smash this.”

Devon’s eyes narrowed. “I warn you, if you start talking circles around me, it’s going to end with a hard right cross to your chin. My wife expects me to join her upstairs for a nap.” “How could a grown man sleep in the middle of the day? Why would you even want to?” “I wasn’t planning to sleep,” Devon said curtly. “Oh. Well, I would like to have my own wife to nap with. In fact, I’d like some good, hard napping on a regular basis.”

Cassandra glowed at the praise. “No one ever calls me sharp. People always say Pandora’s the sharp one.” “What do they say about you?” She gave a self-deprecating little laugh. “Usually it’s something about my looks.” Mr. Severin was silent for a moment. “There’s much more to you than that,” he said gruffly.

“The way I proposed to you earlier . . . I’m sorry. It was . . . disrespectful. Stupid. Since then I’ve discovered at least a dozen reasons for proposing to you, and beauty is the least of them.” Cassandra stared at him in wonder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She wanted to lean even closer and take a deep breath of him. His face was over hers, a slant of light from a casement window catching the extra green in one eye. She was utterly fascinated by the cool, disciplined façade overlying something withheld . . . deeply remote . . . tantalizing.

What a pity his heart was frozen. What a pity she could never be happy living in his fast-paced, hard-edged world. Because Tom Severin was turning out to be the most attractive and compelling man she’d ever met.

“Would you like me better if I agreed with everything you said?” “No,” she said easily, “I like you just as you are.”

This was something she had never known but had always craved . . . to be enfolded, anchored, wanted . . . exactly like this.

He gripped her hard against him for a few searing seconds. “This is why we can’t be friends,” came his rough whisper. “I want this every time I see you. The taste of you . . . the feel of you in my arms. I can’t look at you without thinking of you as mine. The first time I saw you—” He broke off, his jaw hardening.

“Perfection is impossible. Most mathematical truths can’t be proved. The vast majority of mathematical relations can’t be known. But you . . . standing here in your bare feet in that dress . . . you’re perfect.”

“I’ll never be able to forget this,” she heard Tom say eventually. He sounded far from pleased by the fact. “I’ll have to go a lifetime with you lurking in my head.”

Cassandra wanted to offer reassurance, but trying to think was like wading through a pool of honey. “You’ll find someone else,” she finally said, her voice not quite her own. “Yes,” he said vehemently. “But it won’t be you.” It sounded like an accusation.

Tom tried to feel badly about that. But he couldn’t help feeling a primal pang of relief, his heartbeat settling into a satisfied rhythm . . . Still mine . . . still mine.

His gaze returned to Cassandra’s face, which would haunt him to the last minute of life. He had collected every smile of hers, every kiss, to hoard like a treasure chest of jewels. These few seconds with her were all he had, or would ever have.

He kissed her for all the midnights and mornings they would never share. He kissed her with a tenderness he would never be able to express in words, and felt her response in his blood, as if her sweetness had sunk into his marrow.

He couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Something inside him had been let out of its cage, and it wouldn’t go back in until he’d made the world pay for hurting Cassandra.

Tom looked directly at her then, the nonchalant mask temporarily falling away. His intense, searching gaze somehow burned through the numbness of the past twenty-four hours. “No, sweetheart,” he said gently, as if there were no one else in the room. The deliberate endearment caused a few breaths to catch audibly, including hers.

Tom looked at Cassandra. Something in his eyes caused a twinge of heat deep at the pit of her stomach. “I’ll do whatever you say,” he said.

Tom thought for a long moment before answering. Now his voice was different than she’d ever heard it, quiet and even a little shaken. “There are no limits to what I would do for you.”

“What would make you feel better?” Tom’s tone was gentle and interested, his hands comforting as they moved over her. “Just this,” she said with a shuddering sigh. “Just hold me.” “For as long as you want. I’ll do anything for you. Anything at all. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said gruffly. “There hasn’t been anyone for me, Cassandra.

“I’ll hold you ’til the end of time, if that’s all you want from me. But there’s so much more I could do for you. I would treasure you. I would—” He broke off, leaning so close she felt as if she were drowning in the tropical azure and ocean green of his eyes. “Marry me, Cassandra—and we’ll tell them all to go to hell.”

The sight of her wet eyes launched his heart into chaos. He was nothing but raw nerves and longing. She was everything he’d ever wanted, and against all odds, he had half a chance of winning her if he could just find the right words, the right argument . . .

Cassandra’s color deepened as she admitted, “I’ve gained nearly a stone since Pandora’s wedding.” “Why does that matter?” Tom asked, increasingly baffled. “Every inch of you is gorgeous.”

“Your body isn’t an ornament designed for other people’s pleasure. It belongs to you alone. You’re magnificent just as you are. Whether you lose weight or gain more, you’ll still be magnificent. Have a cake if you want one.”

Cassandra looked patently disbelieving. “You’re saying if I gained another stone, or even two stones, on top of this, you’d still find me desirable?” “God, yes,” he said without hesitation. “Whatever size you are, I’ll have a place for every curve.”

Tom leaned over her, his lips tracing the crest of her cheek and wandering lightly over her face. “Cassandra,” he whispered, “everything I have, everything I am, is at your service. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

Tom couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever held in my arms,” he whispered. “I want to be the one who pleasures you. The one you reach for in the night.” He nuzzled and nipped at the velvety surface of her lips. “I want to fill the empty places inside you . . . give you whatever you need. My beautiful Cassandra . . . tell me what I have to do to be with you. I’ll meet you on your terms. I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. I—”

“Hush,” Cassandra begged, touching his lips with her fingers, “before I change my mind.” “You can’t,” Tom said, knowing he was taking the words more seriously than she’d intended. But the very idea was like an ice pick to the heart. “That is, don’t. Please. Because I . . .” He couldn’t break their shared gaze. Her blue eyes, as dark as a cloudless midnight, seemed to stare right inside him, gently and inexorably prying out the truth. “. . . need you,” he finally muttered.

When at last their lips parted, their breath mingling in rapid gusts, Cassandra stared into his eyes and said firmly, “I want you. I won’t change my mind. If we’re to trust each other, Tom . . . let’s start now.”

West rolled his eyes and gave Devon a resigned glance. “He’s always had it,” he said flatly. “That thing women like.” “What thing?” Devon asked. “The secret, mysterious thing I’ve always wished someone would explain so we could pretend to have it too.”

“He’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. His brilliant mind won’t let him view anything, even his wife, in a conventional way. He sees more potential in me than I’ve imagined for myself. I’ll admit, I’m surprised by how much I like it.”

“We’d better start negotiating,” he said raggedly. “The first issue is how much time you’ll want to spend with me.” “All of it,” Cassandra said, and sought his lips again. Tom chuckled. “I would. I . . . oh, you’re so sweet . . . no, I’m . . . God. It’s time to stop. Really.” He crushed his mouth against her hair to avoid her kisses. “You’re about to be deflowered in the library.”

Tom closed his eyes for a moment, as if the gentle touch devastated him. “Please marry me, Cassandra,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t know what will happen to me if you won’t.” “I will.” A radiant smile spread across her face. “I will.”

She looked like a snow queen walking through a winter forest, too beautiful to be entirely human. And there he stood, with his heart in his fist. What was the name of this feeling? It was as if he’d fallen through the surface of his life into some strange new territory, a place that had always existed even though he hadn’t been aware of it. All he knew was that the careful distance he’d put between himself and other people had finally been crossed by someone . . . and nothing would ever be the same.

“I’ve wanted you for so many nights . . . God, I hope this is real. Don’t be a dream.”

He was so damned happy to be with her. She was his worst liability, as he’d always known she would be.

One of his hands touched her face reverently. “I love you, Cassandra,” came his shaken voice. “I love you, too,” she said, and her breath caught on a little sob. “I know the words aren’t easy for you.” “No,” Tom murmured, “but I intend to practice. Frequently.” His hand slid around her head to pull her down to him, and he kissed her ardently. “I love you.” Another longer, slower kiss, seeming to pull her soul from her body. “I love you . . .”

“Oh, that.” A smile curved her lips as she saw the trio of little taxidermied birds poised on a branch. “So you finally decided it was time.” “I did,” Devon said with satisfaction.