Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice

by Abigail Reynolds

  Ann took the glasses that were already dry and put them away in a cupboard. "That's our wedding crystal. We've been careful with it, and it's lasted through raising three children and years of entertaining." She paused a moment, touching the rim of one of the glasses. "It would be nice if everyone was sure of what they were doing when they got married, but it's not always like that. When I married Dave, I knew he didn't love me. He was on the rebound from another woman. We even talked about it, and he told me he could never love me the way he loved her. I believed him; she was… something special, and I was just ordinary Ann Smith who had grown up down the block from him. But I'd loved him for years and he cared about me, and I decided that was enough."

  "And was it?" Cassie could not imagine the scene Ann was portraying. Dave and Ann had an ideal marriage, as near as she could tell. But perhaps appearances were deceiving.

  Ann smiled to herself. "Well, there were a few other important things I didn't take into account then, like mutual respect, being able to talk about problems, and the willingness to forgive mistakes. In some ways those are more important than love. Without them, I don't know if we would have made it. But we did, and the day Julie was born Dave told me he had been wrong, and he loved me more than he had ever loved the other woman. I told him I already knew that. He never stopped caring about her, but it was different after that. Dave has a lot of capacity for love. So does Calder, I think."

  "Yes, he does." Cassie sometimes wondered if Calder had more capacity for love than she did. Certainly when he gave it, it was with his whole heart.

  "Dave loves our three girls to death, and he would never say it, but I know he always wanted a son. Calder is special to him, and Dave wants him to be happy. Right now having you makes Calder happy."

  "I want him to be happy, too." The issue was whether she could keep making Calder happy. "I should probably go see what they're up to."

  "You do that. I'll be out shortly, and thanks for the help."

  Calder shifted uneasily on the couch. "I appreciate your offer to draw up the prenup for us, Dave, but isn't it going to cause problems between you and my parents?"

  "Nothing new. Your mother won't mind, and your father already knows what I think of him."

  "If my father minds, my mother will, too. She believes anything he tells her." Calder knew his contempt was showing, but he couldn't help it.

  Dave looked concerned. "That's not true. She disagrees with him about a lot of things. She keeps her opinion to herself."

  "If she disagreed with him, why would she put up with the way he treats her? She'd leave."

  Dave went to the bar to refill his wineglass. When he turned back, he said, "She did try to leave him once, you know."

  "She did?"

  "Yes, when you and Tommy were little."

  "But she went back." Thinking of his mother leaving his father was like seeing a mirror shatter.

  "She went back, yes, after Joe made it clear he was going to get custody of the two of you and she'd never see you again. He had the connections to make it stick, you know."

  It made him sick, the idea that he was the reason his mother had gone back to his father. But it couldn't be that simple. "I can't see it. Maybe they had a fight then, but it's been what, fifteen years since Tom left home. If she wanted to, she could have left long ago."

  Dave shrugged, as if to say he had done his best. "If I do the prenuptial, I'll need some information. What's your legal state of residence these days?"

  Calder took Cassie's hand in his, calmed by her presence. "Still Virginia."

  "Pennsylvania for you, Cassie?"

  "That's right."

  "What state will the wedding be in?"

  Cassie looked up at Calder. "We're still working on that."

  "And you're planning to get married in a month?" Dave raised his voice. "Ann!"

  Ann came out of the kitchen, untying her apron. "Yes?"

  "Would you please arrange their wedding?" he said plaintively. "These babes in the woods don't even know where they're having it yet. All I need is a state."

  "Oh, my. We have a lot of work to do, then," Ann said. "What are your choices?"

  "We want it to be small and quiet, and if we get married in Haverford, a lot of people will feel left out if they aren't invited." Cassie took a sip of her coffee, letting the heat run down her throat. "Cape Cod's a possibility, but it's off season there and most of the hotels are closed. That leaves Virginia or Chicago."

  "It's not going to be in Virginia," Calder said. "My parents are not invited."

  Ann exchanged a glance with Dave. After a brief silence, she said, "Chicago, then?"

  "It would be hard. This isn't the sort of thing my mother could arrange, and I can't leave Haverford in the middle of the semester to set it up."

  Ann looked excited. "If you can tell me what you want, I can help with the arrangements."

  Dave laughed. "Here's the translation service. What Ann means is that she'll take over the entire event from start to finish. She loves planning weddings."

  "I'm just trying to help," Ann protested, but with a guilty smile.

  "I'm not sure these two wouldn't be just as happy if somebody took over the whole thing." Dave picked up a pen and pad of paper. "Meantime, I'll put down Illinois for location for now. We can always change it later if we need to. Cassie, what's your full name?"

  "Cassandra D. Boulton." She spelled the last name for him.

  "What does the D. stand for?"

  She eyed Calder suspiciously. "You put him up to this, didn't you?"

  Calder lifted his hands in a protestation of innocence. "Nothing doing."

  "You really need this, Dave?"

  "Not absolutely, but it would be better. What's the problem?" Dave asked with amused curiosity.

  "Nothing," Cassie said firmly. "Just Cassandra D. Boulton."

  Calder failed to smother a smile. Cassie glared at him and said under her breath, "Over my dead body."

  Calder looked restless after they retired for the night, picking up a book, then pacing to look out the window into the darkness, then sitting on the bed to watch Cassie brushing her hair.

  She paused, putting down the brush. "Is something the matter?"

  "Do you ever think about having kids?" he asked abruptly.

  She wasn't fooled by the apparent casualness of the question. She came over and sat next to him on the bed. "I think about it, of course. Why? Do you want to have kids?"

  "That's really up to you. I'm fine with whatever you decide."

  "That wasn't what I asked, you know—I asked if you wanted them."

  He looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. It depends on what you want."

  She took his hands in hers. "Sometimes I wonder whether you defer all these decisions to me because you don't like making decisions or because you're afraid I'll be angry if you make the wrong choice."

  "Probably some of both. Mostly I don't want to scare you off by asking you to do something you don't want to do."

  She eyed him for a moment and then abruptly pounced on him, pushing him back on the bed. He gave a startled laugh and pulled her close to him. She said, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm planning to marry you, so you don't need to worry about scaring me off. But I don't like not knowing what you want. I'm afraid you'll wake up one day and realize you're unhappy with everything we've done."

  He drew her face to his and kissed her deeply. "I won't be unhappy."

  "I still want you to trust me enough to tell me what you want. I'm not your father; I'm not going to be mad if I disagree."

  "I do tell you what I want. I want you, and all the rest is details."

  "So, do you want children?" she asked challengingly.

  "Only if you do."

  She rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask you if we should have them; I asked you if you wanted them, regardless of my opinion."

  "Yes, I think I do, but I'm okay with it if you don't," he said finally.

  "Thank you," she said firmly.
"It's funny, you know—when I first met you, I thought you were used to demanding whatever you wanted, but you're really quite the opposite. You're very good at giving, but you don't know how to take."

  "I think I'm pretty good at taking." He slid his hands down her back to cup her hips suggestively.

  "No, you're not. But you're going to learn."

  He laughed at her determined air. "And how do you plan to teach me?"

  She caught his hands and moved them to his sides. "You are just going to lie there and let me give to you for once. No touching me, no nothing, got it?"

  "Not fair. I love giving you pleasure—you know that."

  Her face softened. "I know. But I want you to see that the world won't fall apart if you put your own pleasure first for once. Now, are you going to let me have my wicked way with you, or not?"

  "How can I refuse an offer like that? Besides, I'll get my revenge."

  "Oh, no, you won't." She began to unbutton the front of his shirt, trailing her fingers lightly down his chest as she went. "This is my turn." When she was finished with the buttons, she took her time tantalizing him, first with her fingers, then with the delicate touch of her mouth. She could feel his tension rising as she approached his belt buckle, and she raised her head to give him a mischievous smile while she disposed of the obstacle. "Are you enjoying yourself yet?" she asked archly, letting her hands pause in their exploration for a moment.

  "You are trying to torment me."

  "That's right." She felt his hand at her breast, caressing her nipple through her blouse. Despite the burst of pleasure it sent through her, she pushed his hand away. "Behave yourself. You can look, but don't touch." With a devilish smile, she began to remove her own clothes slowly as he watched hungrily.

  Once she was done, she found her place atop him again, giving a low laugh when his hips thrust up involuntarily. "Hmm, I guess you are enjoying yourself after all." She wasn't ready to give him what he wanted, though, sliding away to allow her hands scope for ever more intimate explorations of him.

  He groaned, and she said softly, "Tell me what you want."

  "I want to touch you," he ground out.

  "No. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

  "Cassie." His voice was full of deep frustration.

  "Or do I have to guess?" She shifted so that her mouth was poised just above him. "Could this be it?" She waited for an answer.

  "You little torturer," he gasped. "You know it is."

  She gave him a satisfied look as she began to give him what he wanted, making him moan with pleasure. He reached out for her, but she determinedly pushed his hands away, taking him closer and closer to the edge of pleasure.

  "For God's sake, let me touch you," he pleaded.

  She decided to take mercy on him and released him. Poising herself over him, she slid herself home, answered by a convulsive thrust. "There," she said mischievously, as he struggled to control himself. "You're touching me. Now what do you want?" He caught at her hips, his eyes nearly wild, pulling her to him again. Then, apparently needing more, he surprised her by flipping them over so that he lay on top of her. It took only a few fierce, uncontrolled thrusts before he climaxed hard and slumped upon her.

  He lay still for a minute as she stroked his back gently and then said, "God, Cassie, I'm sorry."

  "What are you apologizing for?" she asked with amusement.

  "Losing control," he said, clearly uncomfortable. "Not taking time for you."

  "Excuse me. I was trying to make you lose control. You try to make me lose control all the time. You make me lose control so much I don't have the stamina to try to make you lose control most of the time."

  "That's different."

  "No, it isn't. You clearly liked it, and there's nothing wrong with wanting me to do things to you—I'm not going to get mad at you or anything."

  "You're taking advantage of me. I'm in no condition to argue."

  "I have to take advantage when I can," she said with mock dignity. "But I am serious—I want you to be able to tell me what you want, whether it's about having children or where we live or what you like in bed. I won't always agree, but I'd like to know."

  He rolled off her and propped himself up on his elbow. "Cassie, my favorite fantasies about you mostly involve making love to you when I know that I've pleasured you again and again. It turns me on, okay?"

  "You're hopeless," she said with amusement.

  He leaned over and took her nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before suckling it gently for a minute. When she gasped with pleasure, he released her. "I don't notice you complaining most of the time." He returned to her nipple again, this time while sliding his hand between her legs. As she pressed hungrily against his fingers, he said, "But I suppose I can survive if occasionally you want to have your wicked way with me before I try to drive you out of your mind."

  The story Calder planted about his missing uncle broke a few days later in the New York Times. "First page, but below the fold. Not bad," Calder said philosophically as he began to scan it.

  Cassie read over his shoulder. It had a surprising number of details, including reports from his commanding officer in Korea and one of his early caretakers. Calder's grandfather was deeply implicated, but the investigators also found financial documents linking his father and other uncle.

  "Now life will get exciting," Calder said. "I'm glad we're running away to get married soon."

  The article provoked a furor in Washington. Fortunately, since Calder was seen only as a bit player in the story, it had little impact at Haverford. Several reporters called with questions, despite his continuing refusal to comment. When Cassie was caught once by a journalist, she cheerfully denied knowing anything beyond what she had read in the papers. She neatly sidestepped the trap when asked if she agreed with Senator Westing's actions toward his brother. "Do I agree with him?" she said. "I'm a Democrat and a scientist. I don't agree with Senator Westing on anything, including the basic facts of nature."

  Chapter 20

  A FEW DAYS LATER they finally left for Chicago, the wedding plans still a tightly kept secret. Their ostensible reason for leaving midweek was to avoid the media splash at Haverford when the article in People came out. Cassie was more nervous about introducing Calder to her parents than about the magazine.

  They went to her parents' tiny ranch house for dinner that night. Both the house and the yard, always neat, were immaculately tidy. Her mother was already at the door when they walked up.

  Cassie hugged her tightly, tears pricking at her eyes. When had her mother become so small? Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, "Mom, this is Calder. And this is my father." As she kissed her father's cheek, she saw Calder taking her mother's hand in both of his own.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Boulton. Cassie's told me a great deal about you. Thanks for inviting us."

  "I'm so glad you came." Her mother sounded choked up.

  "I wouldn't miss this for the world, the chance to meet Cassie's family and see where she grew up."

  Sometimes it was useful that his parents forced all those social skills down his throat, but Cassie could tell it didn't come naturally. "The house looks great, Mom." But it, like her mother, had grown even smaller while she was away.

  Her mother had clearly worked hard over the hors d'oeuvres and explained that Cassie's sister Maria and her children would be arriving later, along with the Crowleys. Cassie had mentioned to her at one point that Calder was often quiet in large groups, but she hadn't expected her mother to adjust plans to accommodate for it. She was touched by how much effort her mother had put into making this evening a success.

  Cassie didn't know what to talk about at first, but plans for the wedding made a subject they all had in common. Her mother filled her in on the last-minute details, seeming anxious for her approval, and took Cassie back to the bedroom to show her the mother-ofthe-bride dress she had chosen.

  To her relief, it was quite tasteful, althou
gh she suspected she had Ann Crowley to thank for that. She fingered the fine fabric. Her mother had probably never owned anything like it. None of them had. "Have you seen Ryan recently, Mom?" Cassie wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer, but she couldn't help asking.

  Her mother's smile disappeared and her eyes became suspiciously misty. "I go down every month."

  "How is he? His letters don't say much."

  "He gets by. He's helping some of the other men with their cases, and they protect him in return. But he's too thin."

  Ryan had written her about working in the law library at the prison. Cassie was pleased he was developing an interest in something, not realizing he had another motive for doing it. "He says I shouldn't visit him."