A Passion Most Pure (Daughters of Boston, Book 1)

by Julie Lessman

  "The truth is, I've grown quite fond of you. Quite frankly, you're a son to me, and I'm confident God will steer you right, if you let him. Rest assured, I plan to pray about it for you. But, bottom line?" Patrick tossed the payment for his tab onto the bar and buttoned his coat, giving Collin a thin smile. "See to it you marry one of my daughters."

  Collin was there at mass the next morning, waiting in the vestibule as usual, and wearing his best suit. Despite a late night at Brannigan's, he seemed none the worse for the wear, except for the bloodshot eyes and somber mood-signs of his bout with the bottle that could easily be taken as the result of sleepless nights. Good, Patrick thought, pleased to see Collin was feeling the full effects of his misguided actions. He fought a smile as he ushered his family into the church.

  Collin nodded at Charity, whose eyes rounded with surprise. "Collin, you came! I didn't know if ... I'm so glad." She seemed nervous as she smiled in her most alluring manner.

  "I needed time to calm down, Charity, but we need to talk." His eyes flickered past her to Faith. "I need to talk to you both, I'm afraid."

  The smile faded on Charity's lips as she glanced at her sister. She nodded quietly and walked in ahead, leaving him to follow into the pew. Faith lingered behind, allowing the rest of the family to enter before her. Patrick watched the scene with a dull ache. Why did his daughters' affairs of the heart have to be so blasted complicated? Kneeling, he made the sign of the cross and turned his attention to St. Stephen, beseeching him on behalf of his daughters' happiness, not to mention his own peace of mind.

  For the first time in a long while, Collin felt uncomfortable kneeling beside the O'Connors in the sacred shadows of St. Stephen's Church. Over the last six months, he had almost enjoyed coming here. The calm and peace of this hallowed place had filled him with a serenity he had seldom known in years of obligatory mass and forced catechism. But for some reason this morning, the things he'd taken pleasure in before, such as the shafts of brilliantly colored light pouring through the stained-glass windows or the sweet scent of incense in the air, now only served to provoke a cynicism within. One, he suspected, that had been resident all along but for a time had been quelled by the tranquility of this holy place.

  It certainly didn't help that this morning's homily was Psalm 37:4. He shifted in the pew at the sound of the words. "Delight thyself also in the Lord and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart." No doubt one of Faith's top-ten verses, he mused with a degree of bitterness. Well, maybe she believed it, and Patrick as well, but Collin suspected it was going to take more than blind faith to convince him that this Scripture-or any other-bore much merit at all.

  He leaned back and stole a glimpse at Faith out of the corner of his eye, his face angled just enough to bring her into view. She seemed oblivious to anyone else, lost in her God, he supposed, as she prayed with eyes closed and face lifted. There was an intensity in her manner that was so much a part of who she was. His lips steeled and his bitterness flared. He swore silently. Yes, he wanted her, but he didn't want her God, and she'd made it abundantly clear it was a package deal. Oh, he was a "believer," all right. He believed that slighted deity was making him pay, a thought that only served to harden him more.

  Following mass, he accompanied them home, where lunch was filled, as always, with the laughter and easy banter of a meal shared in the O'Connor household. And yet, Collin felt somewhat removed, as if preparing to leave this refuge provided in his otherwise lonely existence. He almost wished his day of departure was upon him, so awful was the feeling of dread at its coming.

  Patrick cleared his throat and gave him a look. Collin took his cue and stood to his feet. "Mr. O'Connor, I'd like to speak with Charity, privately on the porch, if I may."

  Patrick nodded and excused Charity from the dishes while Collin walked to the door and held it open. She stood, glancing from her father's somber face to Collin's before stepping into the parlor, through the hall, and out the front door. She lowered herself onto the swing. Collin bypassed it altogether to lean against the railing. His long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he folded his arms across his chest.

  "Charity," he began, his gaze glued to the floor, "I care about you a great deal-"

  "I love you too, Collin."

  He looked up at her. "I care about you, Charity, I do. But understand me-I'm not sure if I love you."

  She blinked, and he saw the hurt on her face. He continued, his tone softer. "I'm not ruling out marriage. I just don't know how I feel-about you, about Faith. What I do know is I owe you an apology for things I've done, things I regret." He took a deep breath and looked away, knuckles straining as he gripped the banister. He lifted a hand to rub at a tic vibrating in his cheek. "Especially the hurt I've caused because of Faith, because of feelings I have for her ..."

  "You told me you didn't love her."

  His head jerked up. "I told you I didn't know ... any more than I know if I love you. All I do know is I want to be fair-to you, to Faith, and to myself."

  "You don't love me, then."

  "I care about you very much ..."

  "Enough to marry me, Collin?"

  He studied her without speaking, then looked down. "I don't know, Charity."

  "Enough to marry her?"

  He could feel the heat creep up the back of his neck.

  She slowly stood, a stricken look on her face. "I see. And does she know you love her?"

  He jumped to his feet and spun around to clutch at the porch railing. "Blast it all, Charity, I don't know that I love her."

  "But you think you do, don't you?"

  He turned to stare at her.

  "Don't you?"

  He didn't answer, and she collapsed into the swing. He took a step forward, even though instinct told him to stop. But the sight of her tore at his gut. Against his better judgment, he sat and folded her in his arms.

  "Charity, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you." He kissed the top of her head, then softly twined his fingers at the back of her neck. "I don't know what's going to happen, how I'll feel when I return. I need to sort things out. Europe will give me the time to do that. I can't promise it'll turn out the way you want. What I can promise is I'll think long and hard about it-about us, about what's best for you and for me." A smile pulled at his lips. "In fact, I'm pretty sure when I'm stuck in some vile trench somewhere, I'll be thinking very long and very hard about you." He lifted her chin. "Especially how beautiful you are."

  She looked up from under wet lashes, lips slightly parted, and Collin found himself fighting the urge to kiss her. He started to stand. She gripped his arm. "Collin, we're good together! Nobody will love you like I can."

  He pushed her hand aside and stood, eyes burning from anger and desire. "So help me, you O'Connor women are really something. Neither of you fights fair. I have you driving me crazy like this, and the other one driving me crazy with God." He swore softly as his fingers kneaded the back of his neck. "Blast it all, I feel like I'm already behind enemy lines."

  He stepped back, his breathing labored. A faint smile trembled on her lips. He aimed a finger at her while a spasm tickled his jaw. "Look, Charity, I told you once I don't take kindly to teasing. I'm not going to tell you again. You just won't see me."

  Her smile broke into a grin. "You just can't handle it because you love me," she said, confidence resurging in her tone.

  He stopped and assessed her through wary eyes. "No, I can't handle it because I'm attracted to you. There's a big difference."

  "Well, that's good enough-for now."

  He silently cursed the fact she had never looked more seductive, with her golden hair disheveled and blue eyes wide and wet. Her lips parted, full and pouty, as she observed him from the swing, while her hand toyed with the button at the high collar of her dress. He finally shook his head and laughed as he leaned against the railing, eyes focused on her fingers.

  "All right, Collin, I understand. You need time to make up your mind, so the engage
ment is officially off-for now. Shall we seal it with a kiss?"

  The blood coursed through his veins as he watched her, and he nodded, almost oblivious to her question. His gaze fixed on the button now unfastened against her throat. Slowly she stood and moved to his side. His heart was pounding, and she smiled as if she could hear it.

  "Kiss me, Collin," she whispered. "It's only a kiss, after all, nothing more."

  Her eyes seemed to hypnotize, and he let her wait while he struggled with what conscience he had. Before he knew what was happening, the slow smile moved across his lips as if it had a mind of its own. He grabbed her, his breath hot on her face as he spoke.

  "That's right, Charity ... only a kiss ... nothing more." He kissed her mouth, long and hard, then allowed his lips to brush across her cheek, caressing the delicate fold of her ear. He heard her soft purr of contentment and then pulled away and studied her. Slowly, he traced his finger along the gentle curve of her chin, down to the open button at the hollow of her throat. She shivered at his touch and closed her eyes. He nudged her away. "You know, Charity, two can play this game, but only one can win." He stepped back and reached for the door. "Something to think about, isn't it?" He opened it and went inside, leaving her wiser, he hoped, and certainly warmer than before.

  Patrick looked up as Collin entered the kitchen. He and Sean were drinking coffee while Marcy and Faith finished the dishes. "Everything okay?" he asked. "You seem flustered."

  Heat prickled the back of Collin's neck. He smiled at Patrick. "Yes, sir, I'm fine, and so is Charity. I think we understand each other now."

  Patrick seemed relieved. "Good. Would you like some coffee, Collin? Marcy's kept some warm for you."

  Collin nodded and gratefully allowed Marcy to fill his cup. "Thank you, Mrs. O'Connor. I think I'm going to miss your meals and your coffee more than anything."

  She gave him a faint smile, then glanced at Patrick, who rose from his chair. "Up for a game of chess, son?" he asked Sean, who nodded and followed his father to the parlor.

  Marcy turned to Faith. "Do you mind finishing up? I need to check on Katie. She's supposed to be straightening her room, but goodness knows what I'll find up there."

  Faith nodded, and Marcy left them in silence.

  Collin slumped at the table, staring at the palm of his hand as he absently rubbed it with his thumb. His stomach was in knots. A hundred thoughts circled in his brain of things he wanted to tell her, but as he sat there, heart racing and hands sweating, he had absolutely no idea what he would say.

  She dried the last dish, put it away, and neatly folded the dish towel before turning around, her small frame propped against the counter as if for support. For the moment, those green eyes were calm, resigned, and almost cold. But not quite, he noticed, as she quickly averted her gaze to the floor.

  "You can't hate me, you know-it's against your religion."

  He was teasing, but she didn't seem to care. Her head snapped up, and her eyes singed him. His heart started pounding, and his slow smile reengaged. She was like a chameleon-calm and placid one minute, all fire and flash in the next, and it never failed to rouse him.

  "Get it over with, Collin. Father said you wanted to speak with me, so do it."

  She was clearly not happy with him, and somehow it turned his smile into a grin, which only managed to aggravate her further. He tried to temper it a bit, but it was so blasted hard with her looking like that. A little girl with pouting green eyes and wild auburn hair tumbling her shoulders. Holy saints above, she was beautiful! Why hadn't he realized before just how much? Before he had courted Charity and set things in motion that were now too difficult to change? Things could have been so different, he thought, then frowned. No, they would have never been different. Something much bigger than an engagement to Charity stood in the way.

  "Will you sit down, please? It's difficult to have a conversation with someone who looks like they're ready to bolt from the room."

  Her gaze focused past him as she slipped into the seat farthest away and folded her hands on the table before her.

  Collin cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. "I owe you an apology, Faith, and more than one, I suppose. I never should have taken advantage of you like I did. I regret it, I really do. Not just because of what it's done to you, but what it's done to Charity ..." He looked away. "And to me."

  He closed his eyes, leaned back, and massaged his forehead with his fingers. "I saw myself with Charity, Faith, I really did. I thought we'd marry, have lots of kids, and grow old together. But that day in the park, something happened. I don't know, I felt something-something strong-and it scared me. I hated it because it made me feel vulnerable. I didn't like that. But I couldn't stop thinking about it, either-about you-and believe me, I tried. I was certain if I could see more of Charity, if I could fill my mind with her love, I'd be fine. Only it didn't work that way. Then I thought, well, once Charity and I are married, I'll get over it ..."

  She watched him now, her face softening with concern.

  "I was pretty slow on the uptake, I guess. It wasn't until the night on the swing that I realized I was falling in love with you."

  He heard her sharp intake of breath as her eyes began to well, and he reached across the table to take her hand in his. "I love you, Faith. Marry me."

  She jerked her hand from his. "I can't marry you, Collin."

  He leaned forward. "I know you love me. Can you deny it?"

  She didn't speak, and he jumped up, rounded the table, and gripped her arms to lift her to her feet. When she wouldn't look at him, he grabbed her chin and forced her. "Look at me! Can you deny you love me?"

  She stared at him through a mist of tears. "Let me go, you're hurting my arm."

  "Tell me you don't love me."

  "I don't love you."

  "You're lying, Faith. I would have thought better of you than that."

  "Well, don't!" she screamed. "I'm not better than that. You've said your apologies, Collin, now let me go."

  She tried to turn away. He jerked her back. "I know you love me. Don't you think I can feel it every time I touch you?" He pulled her to him, and she cried out before his lips silenced her with a savage kiss. She struggled to pull free, but he only held her tighter. The blood pounded in his brain. His mouth was everywhere-her throat, her earlobes, her lips-and he could feel the heat coming in waves as she melted against him. She was quivering when he finally let her go.

  "You love me, Faith," he said quietly. "You know that, and I know that. Your heart belongs to me, and nothing can ever change that fact-not Charity, not you, and not your God."

  A sob escaped her lips, and she collapsed into the chair, all fight gone. "I know," she whispered, "I know. Oh, Collin, if only you could tell me what I need to hear."

  He was tempted to lie, to tell her anything to keep her. He had done it once-managed to convince her family he was something he wasn't; he could do it again. But somehow he knew, no matter how convincing the lie, she would know. Somehow that God of hers would trip him up, and then he would lose her forever. It was only seconds before he answered, but it seemed a lifetime. "I can't now," he said, his mouth dry, "but I don't know it couldn't happen. Maybe you'll save my soul, who knows?" His attempt to be light fell flat, and inwardly he cursed at how hollow it must have sounded.

  "What does it matter anyway? I won't stand in your way if you want to believe in your God. Please, Faith, just say yes!"

  He was speaking too fast, as if he were desperate. He was. The only woman he had ever really wanted would not have him, and it was about to crush him. Never in his life had he ever begged a woman for anything. A sick feeling suddenly cleaved to his throat.

  She started to cry, and he knew before she spoke what her answer would be. His hands dropped to his sides. Slowly, he walked to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. He emptied it and set the glass on the counter before turning to face her. When he did, he felt a spasm quiver in his jaw. His eyes itched hot as they pierced throug
h her. "That's it, then? God wins and I lose? Well, I'm glad we settled that. It's been eating at me for a long time."

  "Collin, please ..."

  "Please what? Go away so you don't have to face the fact you're in love with me?" He moved to his chair and slammed it against the table.

  "It wouldn't work. It has to be right-"

  "No! I don't want to hear it! I'm sick to death of hearing it, and I don't have to listen. We're oil and water, Faith. I'm in the real world, and you're out there somewhere in a world I don't understand." For a split second he stared past her before his eyes shifted back, finally resigned. "It's good for me to go away. You don't have to worry anymore, Faith. I don't need a ton of bricks to fall on me to know it's time to move on."

  He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the back of his neck. "I suppose marriage needs more than passion anyway, doesn't it? It helps if you're on the same wavelength, at least, like Charity and me. We seem to understand each other, and then there's passion too." His voice sounded so strange to his own ears, a low monotone, emotionless, almost stream of consciousness.

  He heard her move toward him. "You know, Collin, someday we'll be friends-good friends."

  His eyes flew open, and he didn't blink once. "I don't want to be your friend, Faith. I want to be your husband and your lover."

  A dark blush invaded her cheeks. She lifted her chin. "I want that too, Collin, more than anything in the world."

  He heaved the chair against the table again, and the sound was as explosive as the fire in his gut. "That's a lie! But, it doesn't matter now, because I finally get it. I don't understand it, mind you, but it's finally sinking into this thick head of mine that we don't belong together. Not that what we have between us isn't strong and real. No, this thing is so real it makes us crazy every time we're near each other. It's what most people dream about, and we have it! But you-you'd rather turn your back on something so real for something that's only real in your own mind."