Sylvia

“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

“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

“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

“An incredulous scowl crossed his face as he saw a gathering of dockworkers, porters, and cabmen near his wife. A navvy called out to her- "Gi' me a smile, ye sweet tidbit! One little smile! What's yer name?"
Cassandra tried to ignore the catcalls, while the coast guard stood by, doing nothing to shield her.
"Now, now, Mr. Severin-" the old harbormaster said, following as Tom headed toward Cassandra with swift, ground-eating strides.
Tom reached his wife, blocked her from view, and sent a chilling glance at the navvy. "My wife doesn't feel like smiling. Is there something you'd like to say to me?"
The catcalls faded, and the navvy met his gaze, taking his measure... deciding to back down. "Only that you're the luckiest bastard alive," the navvy said cheekily. The crowd broke up with a mixture of chuckles and guffaws.
"On your way now, lads," the harbormaster said, briskly dispersing the gathering. "Time to go about your business."
As Tom turned to Cassandra, he was relieved to see that she didn't seem upset. "Are you all right?" he asked.
She nodded immediately. "No harm done."
The officer looked sheepish. "I thought they would tire of their sport if we ignored them long enough."
"Ignoring doesn't work," Tom said curtly. "It's the same as permission. Next time, pick the ringleader and go for him."
"He was twice my size," the officer protested.
Tom shot him an exasperated glance. "The world expects a man to have a backbone. Especially when a woman is being harassed.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra