His Most Suitable Bride (11 page)

Connected.

Still holding her hand, he guided her off the main path. Callie looked around, saw that they’d entered a small public park.

He led her toward a large leafy tree with several low-hanging branches. Their feet left indentions in the wet, muddy grass. Reese’s were large and clearly defined, hers smaller, less pronounced, as if she was floating across the ground.

He let go of her hand, reached up and plucked a stem free from its branch. His gaze turned dark and turbulent as he fiddled with a green leaf, and then another.

Something was troubling him. “Reese? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Daniel and Gabriella.” He wound the edge of the stem around his finger. “Although Daniel took a big step today, as did his sister, they’re both uncommonly quiet and withdrawn.”

Callie laid a hand on his arm, looked into his eyes. “They’ve only been at Charity House a few short weeks,” she reminded him. “It’s not unusual for new arrivals to hold themselves apart from the other children for months, sometimes longer.”

“I know.” The lines of worry around his eyes seemed to cut deeper. “But it seems unfair that they lost their mother so young and never even knew their father. I can only imagine what their lives were like before they came to Charity House.”

“At least they’re safe now, living in a loving home where they will be given the advantage of a Christian upbringing, renewed hope and unconditional love.”

“I know.
I know.
But, Callie, they’re too young to fear the world as they do.” He tossed the branch to the ground with singular force. “The secret wounds they carry, it’s unimaginable.”

The intensity of his words highlighted his concern, a concern she shared. “That’s not to say they won’t one day find healing. Laney and Marc will take good care of them.”

Reese nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t release. If anything, his shoulders bunched tighter. As she stared into his eyes, Callie saw the man beneath the stern exterior—a man of great feeling, with a hatred for injustice and the capacity to love deeply.

“I know what you say is true, Callie. Still, it’s a pity the twins can’t have a family of their own.”

“They do have a family, at Charity House. Untraditional, to be sure, but one full of faith, hope and love.”

He nodded. “It’ll have to be enough.”

His obvious concern for two precious children was endearing, and really sweet. Was it any wonder Callie found this man so attractive?

Sighing, she balled her hand into a fist and stared down at it. She wasn’t supposed to find Reese attractive. She was supposed to find him a wife.

She’d nearly allowed herself to forget her duty, a duty she deeply regretted now. She’d only agreed to Mrs. Singletary’s scheme in order to stall the process, at least until Fanny came home. Inserting herself into the equation was not part of the plan.

And yet, here she stood, hoping for something that could never be. Her assigned job was to ensure Reese stay unattached through the foreseeable future. An idea began to formulate in her mind. As the sister of five brothers, she had a clear understanding of what men found attractive in women. And, more importantly, what they found impossible to bear.

“Reese?”

“Yes, Callie?”

Oh, my.
Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my.
She really liked the way her name sounded on his lips.

He is not for you.

“It’s time we discuss your bride hunt.”

Chapter Eleven

A
t Callie’s abrupt change of topic, Reese felt his mouth tighten around the edges. A sardonic laugh rustled in his throat. For the span of three heartbeats he could do nothing but stare at her in muted astonishment.

The woman wanted to discuss his search for a bride? Here? Now? When his mind was back at Charity House, focused on two small children who were...

Far better off than they’d been three weeks ago. Given their new, happier circumstances, he supposed there wasn’t much more to say on the matter.

That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about his
bride hunt,
as Callie called it. The term didn’t sit well with him, made his search seem calculating, perhaps even callous. His brows pulled together in a frown.

Was
his approach cold and self-serving? Or was his approach part of a wise, forward-thinking plan?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but found he couldn’t focus. Not with Callie’s pretty green eyes sweeping over his face. “Now is not a good time for this particular conversation.”

“I daresay there’s no good time for this particular conversation.”

She couldn’t know how much he agreed with her on this. “No. I suppose not.”

Thunder rumbled overhead, a dismal warning that the storm wasn’t over. The wind kicked up again, matching his dark mood and bringing an unseasonable chill to the air.

Callie clutched her arms around her, and attempted to hide a slight shiver behind a roll of her shoulders. Reese caught the movement. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

Honesty, even in the small, seemingly unimportant matters, it was one of the things he liked most about this woman. He wasn’t supposed to like her. She was only a friend.

You are allowed to like your friends,
he reminded himself.

Not this much.

When she shivered again, he realized he’d been staring. He quickly shrugged out of his coat and settled it around her shoulders. “Better?”

She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Let’s get you home.”

She opened her mouth, probably to say something along the lines of,
but we aren’t finished with our conversation yet.
He raised a hand to forestall her. “We will continue our discussion in one of Mrs. Singletary’s parlor rooms, where we’ll be considerably more comfortable than out here in the elements.”

Callie’s lips twitched, as if she had something more to say. Another protest, no doubt. Again, he gave her no chance to voice her thoughts aloud. “I have found,” he said, “that I think far more clearly when I am warm and dry.”

A heavy sigh escaped her. “I do, as well.”

“Then, we’re in agreement. Off to Mrs. Singletary’s we shall go.” He tucked Callie’s gloved hand in the bend at his elbow and guided her in the proper direction.

Her long-legged strides easily kept pace with his. Though he knew many men preferred small petite women, Reese rather liked a woman with some height and substance to her.

He’d have to remember to let Callie know of his preference.

For now, he concentrated on getting her home before the rain let loose.

Upon entering the widow’s house, Winston materialized on the threshold. Reese and Callie had barely entered the foyer when the fastidious butler clucked his tongue in disapproval at the mud they’d tracked in on their shoes.

After a brief smile at Callie—which she returned with a wide one of her own—the man turned his full attention onto Reese. “Mr. Bennett.” Displeasure sounded in his voice. “Mrs. Singletary is not at home. Nor was she expecting you today.”

“I’m not here to see the widow.” He removed his coat from Callie’s shoulders and handed it to the other man. “My business is with Miss Mitchell.”

“Ah.” A disapproving sniff. “I see.”

Reese suspected the man did, indeed, see the situation clearly. Perhaps even clearer than he himself did.

“We’ll be in the blue parlor,” he announced.

Another sniff. “Very good, sir.”

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 said, “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.