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Authors: Abigail Reynolds

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BOOK: Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice
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"That's all right," he said, a little stiffly. "I don't want you to have to get muddy."
With a look of amused exasperation, Elizabeth reached over and stuck her hand directly into the mud. "Look, it won't hurt me. It's nothing but rich soil packed with some extra anaerobic bacteria and no grass roots to hold it together."
He tried to imagine any other woman of his acquaintance voluntarily touching that muck, but it was impossible. She was different from them in so many ways, and she looked so alive in the afternoon sun sparkling off the water. "Your shoe," she reminded him pointedly.
Feeling it more discourteous to refuse her offer of assistance, he removed it and handed it to her. "Thank you," he said, watching as she carefully rinsed the sides of it while keeping the inside dry. He said ruefully, "Why do I suppose you would have expected me to do that myself if I were one of your grad students?"
Her eyes glinted with mischief. "Not at all—I'd just have pulled you in and let it rinse off naturally," she said. "Somehow I don't think you'd appreciate that, though."
He had a vivid image of himself standing in the water next to her, taking her into his arms and feeling her soft body pressed against his own. The surge of desire that rushed through him was almost overpowering. No, he would appreciate it all too much if she pulled him in. Far better to avoid her playfulness. It was the only way to keep them both safe. The question, then, was why he felt so disappointed when she merely handed the shoe back to him.

It was a faithful rendering of a day that hadn't struck her as important at the time, but it was so different from how she had seen it. How could she have missed all this? And what else had she missed? Cassie's stomach churned as his narrative approached their encounter at the beach. This was hard enough without revealing their most private moments to the entire world.

   The scene started much as it had in reality. It diverged while they were in the water watching the bioluminescence.
He was just out of arm's reach when she gave a sharp cry of pain. She went under the water for a moment and then came up and swam a few feet away. "Damn, damn, damn," she muttered with deep feeling. "What's the matter?" he asked anxiously.
"Sea urchin. I stepped on one, and some of the spines broke off in my foot. I'll live; I just have to get to shore and get them out."
He knew instinctively she was minimizing her pain. "How can I help?"
"I'm fine." She half-swam, half-hopped toward the beach.
He followed her closely. As the water grew shallower, it became harder for her to move without putting any weight on her foot, and he reached out a hand to help support her by holding her arm. She turned a look on him that said she did not want his help, but at the same time could not refuse it. She struggled on for a few more feet and then stopped.
"Just give me a second." Her eyes were squeezed shut.
"Look, let me get you out of here." Unable to watch her discomfort, he picked her up in his arms and began to carry her to shore, trying not to think about her naked body pressed against his chest. "Will, I can get there by myself."
"No need; you're here already." He walked out of the shallow water. Carefully setting her down on her good foot, he fetched her towel and spread it on the sand. She sank down on it thankfully and twisted her leg to see the sole of her foot. He crouched down in the sand. "Here, let me do that. I can see it a lot better than you can." Reluctantly, she extended her leg to him, and he reached for the flashlight.
"Can you see them?" She craned to look as he shone the light on the sole of her foot.
"Yes, there are two of them right there." They were embedded deeply.
"If you can get a grip on them, pull them out gently." Her teeth were gritted. "You don't want to break the spines; then it's much worse getting them out."
"Can you hold still?" He grasped her foot with
one hand.
"Just
do
it."
He had never been one to be flustered by an emergency, and he took his time looking at the spines to be sure he understood their angle before he caught one between his fingers and tugged gently. He heard her sharp indrawn breath as it came out in his hand. "That's one; you're doing great." He worked to get a hold on the other one. It was in deeper, and he had to try twice before he could get enough of a grip on it to pull it out. For a moment it resisted enough that he was afraid it might break, but then it came free.
He turned off the flashlight and looked up, still a bit light-blind in the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he could see her relief.
"Thanks." She flexed the toes of the injured foot. "I'm sorry it hurt." He looked into her eyes for reassurance that she was all right, his hand still resting on her ankle. He had been worried for her, but it was disturbing how much he enjoyed Elizabeth needing his help, even for such a simple physical matter as this. If she ever needed him for anything important, it would be like a drug, one he could become addicted to. "It's much better now. It just stings a little."
She was looking at him with an expression he was not sure how to interpret, but now that the crisis was past, he was increasingly aware of how close her naked body was to his. With some embarrassment, he realized that she could be in no doubt as to just how much he wanted her. He remembered how it had felt to hold her against him as he carried her out of the water, and without coherent thought, he discovered his hand had moved to lightly stroke the calf of her leg. He waited for her to make an objection, but when she did not, he made no effort to stop himself. It felt too good to touch her, too right, and as he began to understand what her look meant, all his carefully thought-out reasons seemed to vanish. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms and to make love to her until she was helpless with pleasure. His hand crept up to her knee, and she gave him a saucy look. "Doing a little research of your own, Will?" Her voice was low and husky.
"It's being surrounded by all these scientists. I can't help myself. Do you want me to stop?" In reply, she reached out and touched his lips lightly with her fingers. He felt the shock of the contact and ran his tongue along her fingertips. "Who am I to stand in the way of science?" Her smile was all the permission he needed. He leaned forward slowly, giving her plenty of time to draw back, until their lips met, first tentatively and then with increasing passion. God, the taste of her was sweet. It grew even sweeter as his hands caressed her body, discovering what she liked, exploring her breasts until she moaned.
Gently he lowered her down until she was lying on the towel. He lay beside her, and the shock as their bodies met skin to skin dissolved any reserve he had left. It no longer mattered that they were not in private, that Bingley and Jane were just a short distance away and could come upon them at any time, or that their bodies were sticky with salt from the bay. Everything else faded completely from his mind as his hands discovered her most intimate secrets and used that knowledge to steadily increase her arousal. As her body shook with pleasure under the provocation of his touch, he knew this was what he wanted, and he wanted it forever.
   Had Calder really been so powerfully focused on her? It was consistent with his behavior, just not with her interpretation of it. Certainly he was a considerate lover, but she had assumed this was basic politeness on his part. But she had never thought him polite. That he would feel so involved in her response as to practically neglect his own came as a revelation.
   At least his description of the action bore little physical resemblance to what had passed between them beyond the actual setting. He must have deliberately chosen to alter it. There was no reason to do so for the story. She was fiercely glad he had kept that part of it private between them. That night had been too special— their coming together too magical—to share. It was a relief to finally admit it.
   She realized how stiff she had become, hunched over the book as if it held the secrets of the universe. Her universe. It was already dark, and the lights over the pathway outside shone in her window. She got to her feet and shuffled into the hallway, down to the staff lounge. It was late enough that no one else was there. She poured herself a cup of leftover coffee and watered it down substantially with milk. No need to worry about caffeine tonight. She'd be up late. There was no way she'd be able to go to sleep before she finished reading the book.

She was in his room, and he was removing her clothes, and it was so incredibly, unquestionably right. This was how it should be; her mouth belonged underneath his, and her breasts belonged in his hands. When she looked up at him with that mischievous glint in her eyes, he knew he wanted to see that look directed at him every day of his life. Her playfulness enchanted him, and her open, uninhibited response to his touch aroused him beyond his imagination. Her pleasure was like a gift to him, one he could not have enough of, as he sought to tell her with his hands and his body and his mouth all the feelings he could not express in words. And she seemed to enjoy
his
pleasure and
his
excitement equally, as if meeting and surpassing his needs was an entertaining challenge for her. Finally, as satisfied desire and passion subsided into exhaustion, she fell asleep in his arms. As he listened to her light breathing, he felt as if he had been given a great gift, one beyond measure. Her spark had brought him to life again. It would be difficult, but they would make it work. If it came down to a choice between his family and Elizabeth, he had no doubt what his choice would be. He had spent enough of his life trying to be someone he was not. Now he intended to live for himself, and that meant being with Elizabeth.

He had never known this sense of connection before, this lightness of being that said he was no longer alone. There had been more than enough women over the years, but never before one who could give him such pleasure just by sleeping beside him. He stroked her hair tenderly, thinking of all the ways he would show her how much she meant to him. Yes, tonight had been for passion and the excitement of discovery; tomorrow would hold more of the same, but there would also be time

for tenderness. A faint smile curved his lips as he drifted gently off to sleep.

   Tightness gripped Cassie's throat. She knew what was coming next. After reading his eloquent description of happiness in her, how could she bear what was going to happen? And she had been so completely unaware of it, so wrapped up in her concern for the fragility of her own feelings that she had never stopped to think whether he might have any. If his writing expressed anything of what
he
had been feeling that night, then she had been unspeakably cruel to him.
   Unshed tears blurred her vision. She had been so selfcentered, yet how could she have known that someone like Calder Westing could possibly be interested in
her?
How could she have known the loneliness and emptiness he was feeling, or how hostile the world appeared to him? He never told her. From this account, he would have felt unable to say something like that, and now he was telling her the only way he could.
When he awoke in the morning, she was gone. For a confused moment, he wondered if it had all been a dream, but then he caught a hint of her scent on the pillow, and his body's memory reminded him of the reality of it. He stretched with a smile, thinking she must have awakened early and was waiting for him downstairs. Eager to see her and to hold her in his arms again, he put on a bathrobe and hurried down.
No one was there, not even Bingley. Puzzled and beginning to worry, he checked the deck and

the porch before discovering a note lying on the kitchen counter.

Will,
I had to be at the lab early this morning and didn't
want to disturb you.
I helped myself to a bagel and OJ—hope that was
okay.
Elizabeth
His first thought was relief to know where she was, followed closely by disappointment. He wanted to see her, to be with her. Well, he would go be with her, if she could not be with him. He showered quickly with the resolve to go immediately to the lab, and it was not until he was partway dressed that it occurred to him perhaps she would not want that.
He read her note again, and this time saw what was missing from it instead of what was there. There was no endearment, no sign of affection, no suggestion of seeing him or talking to him in the future. It was a note she could have left for a casual acquaintance. A sick feeling settled to the pit of his stomach. Could she possibly have regretted what happened between them? She seemed so pleased and content at the time, but was there more he didn't know? Could there be a man at home she had never mentioned?
A feeling akin to panic ran through him. He had to see her now, had to feel the reassurance of her presence; it was the only thing that would stop these racing doubts. But what if she did not want to be interrupted at work? Perhaps he was reading far too much into a simple note. Perhaps she was just uncomfortable expressing personal sentiments in writing, but he was now uncertain enough of himself not to want to risk upsetting her. No, he decided, he would wait, and she would no doubt call at some point. Maybe she needed some time alone to think through what happened. Certainly it was a profound change for both of them, and if she needed a little time, he would give it to her. His calm resolve lasted only a few hours. There had been no word from Elizabeth, and he could not bear it any longer. Perhaps
she was waiting to hea
r from him. He went to the phone and found Bingley's list of numbers, leafing through it until he found the listing for "Jane @ lab." Quickly, he dialed it. As soon as he heard Elizabeth's voice, something in him relaxed and was happy again. "Elizabeth, it's Will. I was wondering whether you'd like to have dinner tonight."
BOOK: Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice
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