His Most Suitable Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Before the butler could say more, Reese took Callie’s arm and escorted her up the winding staircase, down the twisting corridors and into the blue parlor. With each step, he shored up his fortitude, knowing the next half hour would require patience.

  Extreme patience.

  The only saving grace to this highly awkward situation was the realization that Reese could better control his bride search with Callie in charge. Unlike Mrs. Singletary, the younger woman would listen to him, respect his wishes and, thereby, address his needs above her own agenda.

  He refused to entertain thoughts to the contrary.

  Lips pressed into a flat line, he steered her toward a chair angled in such a way as to catch the heat wafting from the fireplace.

  “I see someone anticipated us.” He nodded to the crackling fire.

  “This is one of Mrs. Singletary’s favorite rooms.” Callie smoothed out her skirt and then glanced up at him. “She insists a fire be prepared in the hearth, regardless of the time of year or the weather.”

  Caught in that beautiful sea-green gaze, Reese found no ready response, other than to say, “Ah.”

  He folded his large frame in the chair situated next to hers. “I believe you wanted to discuss my search for a bride.”

  “Indeed, yes.” She released a slight smile that highlighted a glint in her eyes, a glint that hinted at an impish, playful spirit beneath the carefully bland exterior.

  Reese couldn’t think of a worse thing to notice. Why did this woman call to a part of him he’d thought long buried?

  Why her? Why now?

  He cleared his throat. “Where would you like to begin?”

  Face scrunched in a delicate frown, she tapped her chin with a fingertip. “I suppose we should start by reviewing your list of requirements for your future bride.”

  The censure in her voice was unmistakable. It was the same tone she’d used the previous evening when she’d read his list aloud. “We have already done that, just last night.”

  “Yes, but as I mentioned then, I believe your qualifications are too vague and unclear, it’s as if you threw them together in a matter of minutes.”

  He steeled his jaw. “I assure you, I spent considerable time drawing up my list.”

  “Oh, really?” She gave him a look that reminded him of an unbending, ruthless schoolmarm. “Just how much effort did you put into the task?”

  “I don’t see how that signifies in our discussion.”

  “Then you won’t mind telling me.” There was that schoolmarm look again, matched with a tone that would make any young boy cringe.

  Fortunately for Reese he was no longer a young boy. “I took a full thirty minutes. However—”

  “Thirty minutes? On each item?”

  “No.” Absurd. “I spent thirty minutes drawing up the entire list.”

  She gaped at him. “That is all the thought you put into something as important as your future bride?”

  “Yes, that is all. However,” he repeated, determined to state his case before she interrupted him again, “I have thought on the matter for years.”

  She went back to tapping her chin, seemingly lost in thought. “Can I assume, then, that you are able to recite all seven items on the list?”

  “Of course.”

  “Excellent.” Now the schoolmarm showed up in her posture, rigid and unyielding. “Proceed.”

  “You are quizzing me?”

  Her response was a lift of a single eyebrow. “You said you wanted my help. I cannot help you if you refuse to cooperate with the process.”

  A surprised laugh escaped him. The woman was relentless. A formidable adversary as any he’d encountered in the courtroom.

  Did she know he liked nothing better than matching his wits with a worthy opponent?

  “Very well.” He shut his eyes a moment, controlled a familiar wave of anticipation. “She must be well-educated and articulate, which will also make her an excellent hostess. She should love children as much as I do, and want several of her own, at least five.”

  Her eyes full of appreciation, Callie nodded. The first sign of approval since they’d sat down.

  Reese found himself emboldened by her silent endorsement and continued with more fervor. “She must come from a good family and value strong family ties. As you know, my father is very important to me. She must get along with him, and he with her.”

  Once again, Callie blessed him with a nod of approval.

  His pulse roared in his veins. In his heart, Reese knew he was on the verge of something real, something emotional and exciting.

  There was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the process of finding himself a wife. With Callie at the helm, he might even have moments of great fun.

  As soon as the thought materialized, Reese instantly changed his mind. He did not want to incite questions from Callie, or go into detail as to his reasoning behind the remaining items on his list. Or rather, one of the remaining items on his list. The most important one. The one that was not up for discussion or would ever be subject to compromise.

  But if he wanted to find a suitable woman to marry, he must press on. He drew in a tight breath. Press on, Reese. Press on. “She must be conventional, steady and predictable. I will not, under any circumstances, consider a known risk taker or—”

  “Wait. Just wait a minute.” Callie stopped him with a hand in the air. “Why are you dead set against a risk taker?”

  “That is my business.” He turned his head away, shut his eyes a moment, and fought for control. “Accept my wishes on this, or we’re done.”

  * * *

  Callie didn’t know what she heard in Reese’s voice. Not anger, precisely, but a hint of underlying pain.

  She wanted to reach to him, to offer him comfort and soothe away that haunted look in his eyes. It was the same sensation she’d experienced when he’d arrived at Charity House today.

  She still didn’t have the right to push past his guard.

  Oh, but the urge to go to him persisted. Warning bells were going off in her head by the dozen, even as she reached her hand out and closed it over his.

  “Reese, I’m not asking you to explain.” She spoke in her softest voice, the timbre barely above a whisper. “I’m sure most men, given a choice, would wish for their wives to act in a manner that would keep them out of harm’s way.”

  “Then you understand.”

  Far better than she cared to admit. Oh, how she knew what came from taking risks.

  “I do,” she said, quickly amending her response and adding, “I suppose so.”

  Although she knew the dangers of taking risks in her own life, she didn’t understand why Reese wanted a steady, predictable woman in his.

  What terrible tragedy had he endured? Had he watched his mother die in an accident? Someone else?

  As the questions rattled around in her brain, Callie realized how little she knew about this man, nearly nothing about his past. Why was that? Why did she know so little about him when he’d once been betrothed to her own sister?

  Perhaps Fanny hadn’t been the only one who’d kept herself hidden from her intended. Perhaps Reese had done so, as well.

  Something to think about. “You haven’t mentioned two items from your list. Do you remember what they are?”

  She didn’t need him to voice them again. Except, she did. She had a point to make.

  A very large point.

  Leaning back in his chair, Reese stretched out his legs and turned his head back to hers. His gaze had gone completely blank, free of all emotion. “She must have a good moral compass.”

  That one still perplexed Callie. “Do you mean to say, she should be a godly, Christian woman with an unshakable faith?”

  He didn’t answer her question, but instead s
aid, “And finally, she should be a witty conversationalist.”

  “Because...?”

  “I should think it obvious.” He crossed one ankle over the other, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and began tapping out a rhythmic staccato with his fingertips. “If I am to spend the rest of my life with a woman, I must be able to tolerate her company.”

  Callie blinked at him in astonishment. “Let me get this straight. You believe that if a woman is a good conversationalist, then her company will be pleasing, as well?”

  He inclined his head. “Stands to reason.”

  Could the man truly be that obtuse? Didn’t he know there was more to a happy marriage than witty banter?

  Apparently not.

  Perhaps she should attack the subject from a different angle. “I noticed you left out love as a requirement, both last night and again today.”

  “Love is not a necessary component to a successful union.”

  “You would be happy trapped in a loveless marriage?”

  “I didn’t say I wanted a loveless marriage.”

  Confounding, baffling man. “But, Reese, you just said—”

  He cut her off midsentence. “I expect to like and admire the woman I marry.”

  Oh, really. “You did not put that on the list.”

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s understood.”

  Oh, really.

  Callie remembered Mrs. Singletary’s initial response when she’d read through Reese’s list. She’d muttered something about him being her toughest case to date. Ah, but he wasn’t the widow’s problem anymore.

  He was Callie’s.

  She studied his handsome face. Dear, misguided, stubborn, stubborn man.

  He shifted in his seat, scowled. “Callie, why are you looking at me like that?”

  “How am I looking at you?”

  “As if you fancied the notion of tossing me over a cliff.”

  She bit back a laugh. “You do realize that would be physically impossible.”

  His scowled deepened. “I meant it as a metaphor.”

  She hummed her response from deep in her throat. “Uh-huh.”

  “Callie, I mean it. I don’t like that look in your eyes. It’s disconcerting and bodes of—”

  “Shh.” She held up a finger. “I am trying to think.”

  His response was a hum so similar to hers she nearly laughed. Wagging her finger at him, she mentally shuffled through the names of various women she knew in town, women who met every one of his requirements, uninspired as they were.

  She came up with four names with very little effort. Lovely girls, all of them, at least on the surface, until one spent more than a few moments in their company. Another point of contention Callie had with his list. Reese had failed to include a single personality trait for the woman with whom he planned to spend the rest of his life.

  So be it. She would present her initial batch of women.

  It was nothing less than he deserved.

  Feeling a bit remorseful—but only a very little bit—she leaned forward and captured his gaze. “For your prospective bride, what say you to Miss Catherine Jameson?”

  “Catherine Jameson? You cannot be serious.”

  Not in the least, but she persisted, anyway. “She meets every requirement on your list.”

  “She also laughs like a hyena.”

  True. But Callie couldn’t resist this chance to drive home her point. “I assume you have heard a hyena laugh?”

  He shot her a warning glare. “At least once a year, whenever I visit the zoo.”

  “How wonderful that you have cause to visit the zoo that often.”

  He did not respond to this, but instead shot her another warning glare.

  Callie simply smiled. “What about Grace Mallory? She’s very pretty.”

  Beautiful, actually. And again, fit every one of his requirements.

  “No,” he said through tight lips.

  “No?”

  “Her mother is trying.”

  “You won’t be marrying her mother,” Callie pointed out oh-so-helpfully, which earned her a third warning glare, this one especially fierce.

  She presented her next option. “That brings us to Penelope Ferguson.”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong with Penelope?” As if Callie didn’t know. The girl had been beyond intrusive at Mrs. Singletary’s dinner party last night.

  She expected Reese to remind her of this important little detail, but he went with a vastly different argument. “Her name begins with P.”

  Callie bit back a laugh. “You would reject the girl merely because you don’t like the first letter of her name?”

  “It’s unimaginative on her parents’ part, giving each of their daughters a name that starts with the same letter as the mother. It’s impossible to keep any of them straight.”

  “Oh, honestly, Reese.” Callie pursed her lips. “You must realize that once you are married to Penelope you would at least be able to tell her apart from the others.”

  “No Ferguson girl. I am firm on this.” He wound his hand in the air. “Who else did you have in mind?”

  She thought for a moment. “Natalie Blankenship.”

  Reese held silent a full five seconds. Callie could see his mind working up a reason to reject Natalie along with the others.

  “Natalie is charming,” Callie added, a little miserably, because the girl was actually suitable. “She’s lighthearted and smart and comes up with insights into human nature that are almost always correct.”

  More silence.

  “She’s pretty, too.” Callie sighed. “Raven hair, blue eyes, exquisite skin.”

  Reese dragged a hand over his face. “Natalie is too...” His gaze filled with a triumphant gleam. “Short. My neck would not be able to withstand a lifetime of looking so far down just to meet her eyes.”

  “Now you’re just being difficult. She’s exactly the same height as Fanny.”

  “And we both know how that turned out.”

  Callie gaped at the man.

  He held her stare, unflinching, then drew his feet back under him and leaned toward her. “Any other prospects you wish to run by me? Perhaps—” he leaned in closer still “—a woman I will actually consider?”

  Well, well. Wasn’t he clever? He’d been on to her game all along. She made a face at him. “I was merely trying to clarify my argument about your list of requirements, which as you must realize by now are too vague.”

  He sat back. “You have made your point.”

  Nevertheless, she wasn’t through. “You must be more specific, Reese, or we will be at this for ages.”

  “Understood.”

  “Then you will revise your list at once?”

  “I will.”

  Her pulse quickened at his ready agreement. She’d just bought herself some time. But how much? Enough to contact Fanny and convince her to return home? “And you won’t rush the process,” she ventured. “But you will truly think through each of your requirements?”

  “Yes.”

  It was her turn to lean into his space. “When can I expect your changes?”

  “Soon.”

  “Could you be more specific?” She must know exactly how much time she had to lure Fanny home.

  “Monday,” he said through a tight jaw. “I will deliver my revised list to you on Monday.”

  “Too soon,” she muttered, threads of panic weaving through her control. “You must treat this process seriously.”

  “I am treating it seriously.”

  “Of course you are.” She gave him a pitying look. “If you’re hoping to end up with a bride whose name begins with the letter P.”

  A rel
uctant laugh escaped him. “You, Callie Mitchell—” he pointed his finger at her “—are a ruthless opponent.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I did not mean that as a compliment.”

  She sighed. “I know.”

  His well-cut lips curved. “I will present my new list to you only after a full week of consideration.”

  Better. So much better. “Deal.”

  He held out a hand. “Shall we shake on it?”

  Why not? She pressed her palm to his and her heart took an extra hard thump. Her mind reeled.

  From this moment on, Callie knew her life would never be the same. She’d won today’s battle against Reese, but feared she’d already lost the war...for her heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  Reese kept busy the following week. He had a calendar full of appointments and court dates. Each client meeting required complete focus, the court appearances extensive preparation. In addition, there were contracts to review and business transactions to negotiate.

  Even with the vast amount of work demanding his attention, Reese’s mind kept returning to the other, more personal task before him, a task he’d put off all week, though he couldn’t fathom why. Eight days after his conversation with Callie and the dreaded bride list—as he was coming to think of it—still needed rewriting.

  Shoving away from the desk in his private study, he swiveled around and gazed out over the back lawn. The early morning sunlight glistened off the dew-covered grass. With the snowcapped mountains in the distance, the manicured lawn was picture perfect, as if painted by a master artist.

  Reese rolled his shoulders. The idyllic scene was too perfect, too untouched. Where were the signs of everyday activity? Of life itself?

  If he squinted, he could almost see his future children racing across the lawn, their rousing game of tag turning up the grass and leaving divots. Two of the girls would be taking turns on the swing he would one day hang from a high tree branch. Meanwhile, Reese would be tossing a ball around with one of his older sons, his wife looking on, smiling and laughing, their youngest perched on her hip.

  He rubbed a hand over his face, blew out a hiss and rolled his shoulders again. Had he waited too long to make such a dream come true? Had time run out?