Cassandra And Tom Quotes

“But that would mean it was originally a sideways number eight. That makes no sense at all. Unless..." She paused as understanding dawned. "You think it was the symbol for infinity?"
"Yes, but not the usual one. A special variant. Do you see how one line doesn't fully connect in the middle? That's Euler's infinity symbol. Absolutus infinitus."
"How is it different from the usual one?"
"Back in the eighteenth century, there were certain mathematical calculations no one could perform because they involved series of infinite numbers. The problem with infinity, of course, is that you can't come up with a final answer when the numbers keep increasing forever. But a mathematician named Leonhard Euler found a way to treat infinity as if it were a finite number- and that allowed him to do things in mathematical analysis that had never been done before." Tom inclined his head toward the date stone. "My guess is whoever chiseled that symbol was a mathematician or scientist."
"If it were my date stone," Cassandra said dryly, "I'd prefer the entwined hearts. At least I would understand what it means."
"No, this is much better than hearts," Tom exclaimed, his expression more earnest than any she'd seen from him before. "Linking their names with Euler's infinity symbol means..." He paused, considering how best to explain it. "The two of them formed a complete unit... a togetherness... that contained infinity. Their marriage had a beginning and end, but every day of it was filled with forever. It's a beautiful concept." He paused before adding awkwardly, "Mathematically speaking.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“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."
She gave him an arrested stare, as if he'd spoken in a foreign language and she was trying to translate.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“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.
She could hardly think. It was difficult to wrap her mind around the fact that he was there, bigger than life, that he hadn't forgotten about her, that he'd done all this to defend her. What did it mean? What did he want? "Publish it, please," she faltered. "You..."
"Yes?" Tom prompted softly as she hesitated.
"You bought an entire newspaper business... for my sake?"
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."
Cassandra was speechless.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“He handed the garments to her, and began to unknot his necktie. "Wait- take this too."
Cassandra's eyes widened as he began on his shirt cuffs. "How much more clothing do you plan to remove?" she asked uneasily.
Tom grinned, not missing the quick, interested flick of her gaze over him. "I'm only rolling up my sleeves." He paused, his hands going to the top button of his collar. "Although if you insist-"
"No," she said quickly, blushing at his teasing. "That's quite enough."
A warm mist had started to spread through the room, sweating the white tiles. Cassandra's skin was turning luminous from the humid air. Little wisps of hair at her forehead had drawn up into delicate curls he longed to play with.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Seven is my favorite number," he said.
"Why?"
He nuzzled gently at her stomach. "There are seven colors in a rainbow, seven days of the week, and..." His voice lowered seductively, "...seven is the lowest natural number that can't be represented as the sum of the squares of three integers."
"Mathematics," she exclaimed, laughing breathlessly. "How stirring.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“As he turned back to her, Cassandra stood on her toes to kiss him. He claimed his reward immediately, fitting his mouth to hers and taking a long, ardent taste. Her head swam, and she welcomed the exploration of his tongue. He savored and consumed her, with a kiss more aggressive than any he'd given her before. It made her knees weak and turned her bones fluid. Her body listed toward his and was instantly gathered into the hard urgency of his embrace. Desire curled through her in hot tendrils that insinuated themselves in deep, private places. Her throat caught on a whimper of protest as his mouth lifted from hers.
"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."
"Didn't that already happen?" she asked, and felt the shape of his smile.
"No," he whispered, "you're still a virgin. Albeit slightly more experienced than two days ago." He brought his mouth closer to her ear. "Did you like what I did?"
She nodded, her face turning so hot that she could feel her cheeks throb. "I wanted more."
"I'd like to give you more. As soon as possible.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Are you grumpy in the morning?"
"No, but I wake up on the go. I don't like to linger over breakfast."
"You must not be doing it right. Lingering is lovely. I do it all the time." She stretched her arms and shoulders, and arched her sore upper back, her breast lifting with the motion.
Tom stared at her, mesmerized. "I might stay just to watch you linger.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Her body gripped him in rapturous spasms as she went over the edge, lost in the pulsing intensity of feeling. His breath caught, and then he made a sound low in his throat, a velvety growl, while the heat of his release spread inside her.
They relaxed together slowly in the aftermath, their joined flesh resonant with deep twitches and throbs of pleasure.
Cassandra sighed and purred as his hands coasted over her tired limbs. "I think I was begging," she admitted, "near the end."
Tom pressed a soft laugh against the side of her throat, and kissed her flushed skin. "No, sweet. I'm sure that was me.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Of course," Tom said softly, "you could leave in your wedding dress, and go with me straight to the railway carriage... where I could help you remove it."
A quicksilver shiver chased through her. "Would you prefer that?"
His palm smoothed over the satin of her upper sleeve, and then he rubbed an edge of the fabric gently between his thumb and forefinger. "As a man who likes to unwrap his own presents... yes.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Just before they boarded the yacht, Cassandra glanced at Tom and reached up to a delicate necklace she'd worn constantly since the day he'd given it to her. She touched the little charm, made in the shape of Euler's infinity symbol, that hung at the hollow of her throat.
And as always, the private signal made him smile.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“You're returning to your room barefoot?" Tom asked.
"I have no choice."
"Is there something I can do to help?"
Cassandra shook her head. "I can sneak upstairs myself." She let out a quick little laugh. "Like Cinderella sans pumpkin."
He tilted his head in that inquiring way he had. "Did she have a pumpkin?"
"Yes, haven't you ever read the story?"
"My childhood was short on fairy tales."
"The pumpkin becomes her carriage," Cassandra explained.
"I'd have recommended a vehicle with a longer date of expiration."
She knew better than to try explaining fairy-tale magic to such a pragmatic man.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“He released her breast with a growl of frustration, panting heavily.
Cassandra whimpered in protest. "No, please... Tom... I feel..."
"Desperate?" he asked. "Feverish? Knotted up inside?"
She nodded and swallowed convulsively, and dropped her forehead to his shoulder.
Tom turned his head and rubbed his lips against her temple. She smelled like crushed flowers and salt and damp talc. Bewitched and aroused, he breathed deeply of her. "There are two ways to make it better," he murmured. "One is to wait."
In a moment, he heard her muffled voice, "What's the other way?"
Despite the surfeit of aching, throbbing desire, a faint smile touched his lips. He lowered her to the settee until she was on her side facing him, with his arm fitted beneath her neck. Taking her mouth with his, he probed gently with his tongue, stroking and caressing the tender depths of her. He reached down to the heavy velvet swaths of her skirts and pulled up the front, until he found the shape of her hip covered in thin cambric.
Cassandra broke the kiss with a gasp.
Tom went still, his hand remaining clasped on her hip. He looked into her flushed face, assessing her mood, her quick-breathing excitement. God, he could hardly remember what it was like to be so innocent.
"I won't hurt you," he said.
"Yes, I'm... just so nervous..."
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."
She turned a deeper shade of scarlet, if that were possible. "I want you to touch me," she brought herself to say timidly.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Cassandra, I can't marry you and go about business as usual the next day. Newlyweds need privacy."
He had a point. But he looked so disgruntled, Cassandra couldn't resist teasing. With a glance of wide-eyed innocence, she asked, "What for?"
Tom appeared increasingly flustered as he tried to come up with an explanation.
Cassandra waited, gnawing on the inside of her lips.
Tom's face changed as he saw the dance of laughter in her eyes. "I'll show you what for," he said, and lunged for her.
Cassandra fled with a shriek, skirting nimbly around the table, but he was as fast as a leopard. After snatching her up with ease, he deposited her on the settee, and pounced. She giggled and twisted as the amorous male weight of him lowered over her.
The scent of him was clean but salted with sweat, a touch of bay rum cologne sharpened with body warmth. His face was right above hers, a few locks of dark hair tumbling on his forehead. Grinning at her efforts to dislodge him, he braced his forearms on either side of her head.
She'd never played with a man like this, and it was incredibly entertaining and fun, and the tiniest bit scary in a way that excited her. Her giggles collapsed slowly, like champagne froth, and she wriggled as if to twist away from him even though she had no intention of doing so. He countered by settling more heavily into the cradle of her hips, pressing her into the cushions. Even through the mass of her skirts, she felt an unfamiliar pressure of his arousal. The thick ridge fit perfectly against the juncture of her thighs, aligning intimately with her in a way that was both embarrassing and stirring.
A stab of desire went through her as she realized this was how it would be... the anchoring weight of him, all hard muscle and heat... his eyes heavy-lidded and hot as he stared down at her.
Dazedly she reached up and pulled his head to hers. A whimper of pleasure escaped her as he kissed her thoroughly, wringing sensation from her softness, licking deep.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“How are you?" he asked gently.
Had he started any other way, she might have been able to maintain her composure. But that simple question, and the wealth of concern and tenderness in his gaze, caused the blank, sick feeling to melt away, far too fast. Cassandra tried to answer, but no sound emerged: She could only breathe in quick, shallow pulls. In the next moment, she shocked both of them, and undoubtedly everyone else in the library, by bursting into tears. Mortified, she put her hands over her face.
In the next moment, she felt him pulling her into a deep embrace. His voice was low and soothing in her ear. "No... no... it's all right, easy now. My sweet darling. Poor buttercup.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“She went on to explain Tom's proposition to write an agreement together, about the things they valued and needed, the compromises they would be willing to make, the lines that had to be drawn.
"But it wouldn't be legal," Devon said.
"I think," Kathleen ventured, "the point is that it shows Cassandra's thoughts and feelings matter to Mr. Severin."
"It means he wants to listen to her," Phoebe added, "and take her opinions into consideration."
"Diabolical bastard," West muttered, although the corner of his mouth twitched with rueful amusement.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“But everyone likes dogs," Cassandra protested.
"I don't dislike dogs. I just don't want one in my house."
"Our house." She braced her elbows on the table and massaged her temples. "I've always had dogs. Pandora and I couldn't have survived our childhood without Napoleon and Josephine. If cleanliness is what worries you, I'll make certain the dog is bathed often, and accidents will be disposed of right away."
That drew a grimace from him. "I don't want there to be accidents in the first place. Besides, you'll have more than enough to keep you busy- you won't have time for a pet."
"I need a dog."
Tom held the propelling pencil between his first and second fingers, and flipped it back and forth to make the ends tap on the table. "Let's look at this logically- you don't really need a dog. You're not a shepherd or a rat catcher. Household dogs serve no useful purpose."
"They fetch things," Cassandra pointed out.
"You'll have an entire staff of servants to fetch anything you want."
"I want a companion who'll go on walks with me, and sit on my lap while I pet him."
"You'll have me for that."
Cassandra pointed to the contract. "Dog," she insisted. "I'm afraid it's nonnegotiable.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Cassandra smiled up at him. "I've changed my mind about uncomfortable shoes. Why limp when I could dance?"
But he didn't smile back, only gave her a brooding glance and shook his head slightly.
"What?" she whispered.
His reply was halting and gruff. "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.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Have you set your sights on anyone?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "They're all the same. Just like last year."
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.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Do you have information regarding his whereabouts, Mr. Severin?" she asked unsteadily.
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 where no one else in the room. The deliberate endearment caused a few breaths to catch audibly, including hers.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“I'll awaken as early as necessary," Cassandra said.
"You may not find it worth the effort."
"Why? Are you grumpy in the morning?"
"No, but I wake up on the go. I don't like to linger over breakfast."
"You must not be doing it right. Lingering is lovely. I do it all the time." She stretched her arms and shoulders, and arched her sore upper back, her breasts lifting with the motion.
Tom stared at her, mesmerized. "I might stay just to watch you linger.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“What about sleeping arrangements?"
Cassandra felt her stomach flip, not unpleasantly, and her face began to warm. "Perhaps we should have our own rooms, and you could visit?"
"Certainly." Tom fiddled with a pencil. "I'll want to visit fairly often."
She glanced at the empty doorway before turning her attention back to him. "How often?"
Tom set down the pencil and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "In the past, I've gone for long periods of time without... hang it, what's the polite word for it?"
"I don't think there is a polite one."
"During a drought, so to speak, I've always focused my energy on work. But when it's available... that is... when I've found the right woman... I tend to be..." Tom paused, mentally riffling through various words. "... demanding. Do you understand?"
"No."
That provoked a wry grin. Tom lowered his head briefly, then slanted a look up at her. A flicker of firelight caught in his green eye and made it gleam like a cat's. "What I'm trying to say is, I expect I'll be keeping you busy every night, for a while.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“The rain-sifted light was weaker now, coming in through the transom windows in pallid silver and dark rainbow dapples. Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watched the play of muted color and shadow across Tom's shirt. Eventually, his long-boned, eloquent hands slid up over her knees and beneath the legs of her drawers. He untied her white lace garters and rolled her silk stockings down into neat circles. After dropping them to the floor, he unfastened his shirt and discarded it, taking his time, letting her look her fill.
His body was beautiful, built with the long, efficient lines of a rapier, every inch wrought with tough muscle. A light furring of hair covered his chest and narrowed down toward his midriff. Cassandra sat up on the mattress and touched the black fleece, her fingertips as shy and fleet as a hummingbird in flight.
Still standing by the side of the bed, Tom reached out to gather her against his chest.
Cassandra shivered at the feel of being surrounded by so much bare skin and body hair, so much hardness. "Did you ever imagine we would be doing this?" she said in a wondering tone.
"Sweet darling... I imagined it about ten seconds after we met, and I haven't stopped since.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“A brief grin crossed Tom's face as he saw her expression. He was entirely comfortable in his nakedness, whereas she was a collection of inhibitions all held together with a blush. Climbing into bed like a prowling cat, he lowered himself beside her, one hairy leg settling between hers.
She wasn't sure where to put her hands. One of her palms came to the taut row of muscles at his midriff, her fingertips resting at the edge of a rib.
Taking her hand in a light hold, Tom guided it down to his groin. "You can touch me," he encouraged, a new huskiness infusing his voice.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“There were poached eggs, broiled grapefruit halves, a rasher of bacon, and a basket of small oblong cakes that appeared to have been twisted and turned partially inside out before they had been deep-fried to golden brown.
"What are these?" Cassandra asked the waiter.
"Those are called Jersey Wonders, milady. They've been made on the island since before I was a boy."
After the waiter had finished setting out the food and left, Cassandra picked up one of the cakes and took a bite. The outside was lightly crisp, the inside soft and flavored with ginger and nutmeg. "Mmm."
Tom chuckled. He came to seat her at the table, and bent to kiss her temple. "A cake that's shaped like a shoe," he murmured. "How perfect for you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“You promised I could start any charity I wanted. I'm going to find or build low-cost housing for the displaced Charterhouse Lane residents."
Tom regarded his wife for a long moment. The flash of newfound assertiveness interested him. Excited him. He approached her slowly. "I suppose you'll want to take advantage of some of the undeveloped lots I own in Clerkenwell or Smithfield," he said.
She lifted her chin slightly. "I might."
"You'll probably rook some of my own people into working for you... architects, engineers, contractors... all at cut-rate fees."
Her eyes widened. "Could I?"
"I wouldn't even be surprised if you forced Barnaby, who has access to all my connections and resources, to act as your part-time assistant."
As Tom stared into his wife's beautiful face, he heard Barnaby exclaim in a heartfelt voice behind them, "Oh, must I?"
"Do you think I could succeed?" Cassandra whispered.
"Lady Cassandra Severin," Tom said quietly, "that you'll succeed is not even a question." He gave her a wry glance. "The question is, are you going to spend the rest of our marriage trying to make me live up to your standards?”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Why won't you be friends with me?" To Cassandra's chagrin, the question came out plaintive, almost childish. She looked down and rearranged the folds of her skirts, fidgeting with the crystal beads.
"My lady," he murmured, but she refused to look at him. One of his hands came to the side of her face to angle it upward.
It was the first time he'd ever touched her.
His fingers were strong but gentle, slightly cool against her hot cheek, and it felt so amazingly good that she trembled. She couldn't move or speak, only stared up into his lean, slightly wolfish face. A trick of moonlight had turned his blue-green eyes iridescent.
"That you'd even ask..." His thumb brushed over her skin in a slow stroke, and her breath stopped and started too fast, sounding like a tiny hiccup. There was no mistaking the experience in his touch, sending pleasure-chills down the back of her neck and all along her spine. "Do you really want to be friends?" His voice had softened into dark velvet.
"Yes," she managed to say.
"No, you don't.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“It was exciting and slightly embarrassing to feel the floor with her naked toes as he swept her into one luxurious full turn after another. Of course, the sensation of dancing with bare feet wasn't entirely new: She'd waltzed alone in her bedroom more than once, imagining herself in the arms of some unknown suitor. But it felt very different when her partner was a flesh-and-blood man. She relaxed and abandoned herself, following his guidance without effort or thought.
Although they'd started slowly, Mr. Severin had quickened their tempo to match the music. The waltz was flowing and swift, each turn making her skirts whirl in eddies of silk and glitter. It was like flying. Her stomach turned light, as if she were on a garden swing, soaring a little too high and coming down in a giddy arc. She hadn't felt so free since she'd been a young girl, running recklessly across the Hampshire Downs with her twin. The world was nothing but moonlight and music as the two of them swept through the empty conservatory with the ease of mist carried on a sea breeze.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“But there was no mockery or disapproval in Cassandra's gaze as she approached. She was smiling as if she were glad to see him. She gave him her slim gloved hand, a gesture of closeness and familiarity.
The day instantly became the best one he'd had in weeks. His heart thumped joyfully at her nearness. The shape of her hand fit his as if every joint and fine muscle and soft ligament had been designed for perfect alignment. It had been like this when they'd waltzed, their bodies fitting together, moving together, with magical coordination.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“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.
Swiftly he bent and pressed his mouth to hers, gentle but urgent. There was no time for patience.
Her breath caught. Her lips parted tentatively.
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. His mouth pulled softly at hers, taking one last fervent taste... then slid away.
The skin of her cheeks was damp and sweet, as if she'd just come in from the rain. He brushed her closed eyelids with his lips, the surfaces fragile and silky, the sweeps of her eyelashes like feather dusters.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Keeping possession of her hand, he reached into the front welt pocket of his vest. Her eyes widened as she felt him slide something on the ring finger of her left hand, a smooth, cool weight.
Tugging her hand free of his, Cassandra looked down at an astonishing multicolored gem set in a platinum filigree of tiny diamonds. She stared at in wonder, tilting her hand in the light. The breathtaking stone contained flashes of every imaginable color, almost as if tiny flowers had been embedded beneath the surface. "I've never seen anything like this. Is it an opal?"
"It's a new variety, discovered in Australia last year. A black opal.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra