A Passion Denied (13 page)

A faint smile creased Father Mac’s lips. He took a sip of tea, observing Brady over the rim of his glass. “Ah yes, Elizabeth O’Connor. A beautiful girl. Collin says you like her.”

The dishrag hung limp in his hand, not unlike his jaw at the moment. “You might as well absolve me right now, Matt, because I’m gonna hurt Collin real bad tomorrow morning.”

Father Mac let loose with a low chuckle, then swallowed some tea. “Do you?”

Brady arched the dishrag into the sink as precisely as a ball into a net. “Sure. She’s the little sister I never had. I love her. Want the best for her. Period.”

“And you’re not it, I suppose? The best, I mean?”

Brady forced a smile and dropped into the chair. “No, definitely not.”

“Even if you’re attracted to her?”

Brady shoved his empty plate away. “Okay, that settles it. Collin’s a dead man. Look, Matt, I’ve told Collin, I’ve told Beth, and now I’m telling you. Beth O’Connor is one of the most special people I’ve ever met. But she’s nothing more than a sister to me, plain and simple. I have no romantic designs on her whatsoever, nor any woman. Not because I don’t like them, but because I don’t need to marry one to be happy. Unlike Collin.” He guzzled the rest of his tea, then pushed his glass back with a grin he hoped would soften the strain of his words. “Besides, I think I may have a calling.”

Matt didn’t smile. “Yeah, I think you do. And something tells me you’re running away from it.”

Brady blinked, then stood to his feet, his jaw suddenly tight. “Look, Matt, my personal life is my business. I have enough problems keeping Collin out of it. Don’t start with me, please. I value your friendship way too much.”

Matt nodded and rose, his eyes meeting Brady’s. “And I, yours. Forgive me for stepping over the line, John. But like Collin, I’m only guilty of caring.”

Brady swabbed his face with the palm of his hand. “I know, Matt, and I’m grateful. And maybe sometime down the road, we can talk. Just not now.”

Father Mac smiled and carried the dirty dishes to the sink. He turned and fixed a challenging eye on Brady, softened by a glint of humor. “That’s fine, John, for now. You can stop me from probing, but you can’t stop me from praying. About this . . . or our next game of basketball. Be warned. I plan to win if it takes a chain of novenas to do it.”

A grin traveled Brady’s lips, chasing all tension away. He swiped his basketball from the counter and strolled to the door, sparing one final look at his friend. “Thanks for the game and the pie, Father. And God be with you. You’re gonna need it.”

Collin sauntered into the bedroom with a damp towel over his shoulder and that look in his eye. His chestnut hair was slicked back and dark from his bath. “Tired?” he asked.

Tired? At 11:00 o’clock on a Sunday night, after a hectic day?
Faith glanced up from her book to give him her full attention and felt the same catch in her chest every time her husband entered a room. It was almost two and half years since they’d taken their vows, and yet he never failed to draw her gaze or quicken her pulse. She took in the sculpted curve of his muscled arms and the hard, lean chest that tapered into pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, and still couldn’t believe it. Collin McGuire, the gleam of longing in so many girls’ eyes, was all hers. She took a quick breath, enjoying the warmth he stirred within.

Her smile was mysterious. “Not too.”

His gray eyes twinkled as he ambled over and carefully took the book from her hands and placed it on the nightstand. He tossed his towel over a chair. “Good to hear,” he whispered before turning out the light and slipping under the covers. His skin was still damp from the bath, and she could smell the clean scent of his soap. He immediately pulled her close and ran his hand down the curve of her flannel nightgown. Her pulse was pounding when his mouth found hers, teasing her lips with a gentle tug of his teeth.

“Are you doing this because you want me or a baby?” she whispered.

His low laughter rumbled against her throat. “A baby. You’re just a tempting excuse.”

She giggled and tried to bat him away, but he only tugged her closer with a dangerous glint in his eye. “You best love me like you should, Mrs. McGuire, or I’ll be asking Father McCovey or Father McHugh to pay you a visit.”

“Oh, and you’ll be trying to get the Church on your side, will you?”

He grinned. “I will at that. I’ll be needing a son to carry on my name, so I suggest you comply, or else . . .”

She teased the curve of his full lip with her finger. “Or else what?”

He laid her back on the bed and buried his head in the crook of her neck. She felt the vibration of his wayward chuckle. “You’ll be giving your notice at the
Herald
from sheer fatigue, Little Bit, and make no mistake.” His mouth found her lips again and took their time. She moaned and he slowly pulled away. He studied her through hooded eyes. “Maybe you should anyway.”

She smiled. “Should what?”

His smoldering gaze seemed intent on hypnotizing her. “Give your notice.”

“What?”

He leaned to press his mouth to her ear, pausing to feather her earlobe with his tongue. His words were warm and low. “Come on, Faith, we don’t need the money. I provide a good living. Wouldn’t it be nice not to go to work for once, just stay home like Charity? Spend more time with your mother and sisters?”

The sweet warmth of his breath suddenly blew cold in her ear. She stilled, measuring her words. “Charity works. She has the store.”

“Which Emma now runs since Mitch put his foot down.”

“She still does the books—”

“From home, when he lets her, which isn’t all that often.” Collin silenced all further protest with a kiss.

She pushed him away. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You want me to stay home like Charity, be pregnant like Charity, and all for one reason—you’re competing with Mitch!”

Collin scowled. “You’re out of your mind. I could care less about Dennehy. I’ve wanted you to quit way before he came on the scene.”

Heat flooded her cheeks that had nothing to do with her husband’s touch. She shoved him away and jumped from the bed, bare feet in ready stance. Her eyes burned with anger as she swiped at the wild strands of hair tumbling down the front of her gown. “So we’re back to that, are we? You wouldn’t let up before we were married, and now I suppose that’s why you hound me every night too—some diabolical plan to get me pregnant so I’ll be forced to quit my job.”

Collin sat up in the bed, his eyes glazed with shock. “
Hound
you? That’s what you call it? Well, forgive me for disturbing your beauty sleep—I’ll make sure you get plenty in the future. And while we’re on the subject of ‘diabolical,’ I suppose you think you and your sisters’ cold, calculated manipulation of Brady’s emotions would be sanctioned by the Pope.”

She slapped her hands on her hips and leaned in with fire in her eyes. “It’s for his own good, and you know it.”

“Yeah, that’s why he tore out of here faster than you fall asleep when I’m in the mood.”

Faith caught her breath, stunned at his attack. With a grunt, she snatched a pillow and pelted it at his face. “
In the mood?
You’re never
out
of the mood, you drooling baboon. As far as I’m concerned, you only have one mood in that one-track mind of yours, and it isn’t to sleep. You want a baby so badly? Well, be my guest—cozy up on the couch and dream of one!”

Collin leapt up and jabbed the pillow under his arm. He jerked a cover from the bed. “With pleasure. I suggest you get yourself another blanket from wherever the devil you keep them. You’ll be needing it.” He charged from the room and slammed the door hard, rattling the hinges and stealing her wind.

She dropped to the bed and put her head in her hands, too dazed to understand what had just happened. Tears stung her eyes.
Oh, Collin!

She bounded up and started for the door.

He wants you to quit the job you love.

She stopped, allowing pride to steel her heart.

He knows you love it, but he doesn’t care. His pride is at stake. To
be equal with Mitch.

Renewed fury flared, and she marched to the closet and yanked a quilt off the shelf before hurrying back to their bed, her lips stiff with defiance. She snapped the blanket in the air with a hard pop, then laid it over the bed and crawled in, chilled to the bone.

Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

Faith curled on her side and jabbed her pillow hard. “Well then, Lord, maybe you should tell
him
that! After all, it’s his stubborn pride that’s causing all this.” She huffed out a sigh and closed her eyes, still seething from Collin’s remarks.

Be ye angry, and sin not . . .

Faith rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling with a moan. “But it’s
so
hard! I never knew it was going to be this hard. Forgiving Charity was one thing. Submitting to a pigheaded Irishman when he’s completely wrong is more than I bargained for.” She blew out a blast of air and balled her pillow under her head. “Oh, all right. I’ll apologize in the morning—”

Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.

She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes tight, pretending the thought had never come. No! She was not about to give in tonight. Let him stew. She turned over with a grunt and tried to get comfortable. She
would
sleep tonight, she vowed, and deal with her husband in the morning.

Twenty minutes later, she eyed the clock with a groan. She shot up in the dark and glared at the ceiling. “All right, okay, you win! I’ll do it your way, but only because I need my sleep. And you have to help me, because I really,
really
don’t want to do this right now. But I will—and only for you.” She sighed and got out of bed, her anger slowly dissipating. She tiptoed to the door and put her hand on the knob. All at once, her sorrow chilled her more than the cool drafts in the room. She hung her head and put a hand to her eyes, sagging against the door. “Oh, God, what was I thinking? I’m so sorry for hurting my husband, for not respecting him as you’ve commanded me to do. I love him, Lord, and I let my foolish pride push him away. Please forgive me.”

She drew in a clean breath, opened the door, and padded down the hall to the parlor. Collin was sprawled on his back across their gold brocade sofa, one leg stiff on the arm and the other dangling off the front. Faith chewed her lip and pressed a hand to her chest.
Oh my, he couldn’t possibly be comfortable!
She spotted the cover bunched in a wad across his midsection and shivered. With his hair mussed, eyelids closed, and spiky lashes way too long for a man, he looked like such a little boy. His soft breathing filled the room, causing his smooth chest to rise and fall. Her heart ached with a rush of love.

She leaned to gently shake him. “Collin, come to bed.”

He groaned in his sleep and turned, causing the blanket to slither to the floor. A heavy snort gurgled out before he finally sank into the back curve of the sofa. Her lips tilted into a soft smile. She swore the man could sleep on an ottoman if he had to. She picked the blanket up and carefully laid it over him, then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good night, my love. I’m sorry for hurting you. And tomorrow night . . . I’ll show you how much.”

6

Collin was muttering under his breath when the front door of the shop opened and closed. He ignored it, irritated by the annoying jangling of the bell, as he continued filling the Silex dripolator with cold water. He scooped ground coffee into the upper chamber none too gently, forcing a measure of the precious granules to skitter all over the counter. He mumbled under his breath and gave the “on” button a belligerent swipe, then glared at the clock on the wall. Six a.m.
It’s too blasted
early for this.

“Whoa, take it easy, buddy, we just spent a fortune for that silly thing.” Brady’s tone took on a hint of jest. “Treat it like you treat Faith—gentle and coaxing, till you get what you need.”

“Shut up, Brady.” Collin pushed past his partner to storm into the front room. He dropped into his chair with a loud squeak and shoved a neat pile of invoices out of his way. They fanned across his desk like a deck of cards, several fluttering right off the edge. Collin swore again and snatched at the hefty pile of orders heaped high in his in-basket.

Brady quietly retrieved the stray papers from the floor and stacked them with the others, far from Collin’s reach. He perched on the edge and eyed his friend with deep concern. “So . . . why are you here at this ridiculous hour and what made you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

Collin grunted and started scanning the orders, never seeing a word. He finally flung them in the direction of the invoices and leaned back to heave his legs up on the desk. He exhaled a tight breath and put his hand to his eyes. “Couch.”

“Pardon?”

“It was a blasted couch, not a bed, and it was the blasted woman in the bed who’s responsible for me getting up on the wrong side.”

Brady crossed his arms and whistled. “No kidding? Faith threw you out of her bed? I don’t believe it. What’d you do?”