A Passion Denied

by Julie Lessman

  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.

&nb
sp; 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?”

  Collin burned him with a look. “Our bed, Brady, not hers. And I didn’t do anything but try to make love to the woman.”

  Brady squinted. “That’s it? And she let you go to bed angry? On the couch?”

  “Yeah, she did.” Collin’s boot pushed at a lone sheet of paper and sent it sailing to the floor. “Feels like I slept on this blasted desk. First glimmer of dawn, I hightailed it out of there while she snoozed away like a princess in a warm, cozy bed.” He poked a finger hard against his chest. “My bed! She even had the nerve to accuse me of competing with Mitch. Blast it all, Brady, it’s been over two years and there’s still no sign of a baby! I know that if I could just get her to slow down and quit her job—”

  “Wait, you didn’t tell her that, did you?”

  Collin shifted in the chair. Muscles tightened in his jaw. “Yeah, I did, so what?”

  “Come on, Collin, you know how much Faith loves her job. Why would you do that? You don’t remember all the fights you had when you were engaged?”

  “Yeah, I remember, and I’ve laid low for a long time now. But I want a son, Brady, and nothing’s happening. And apparently if I leave it up to her, it never will.”

  “How ’bout leaving it up to God?”

  Collin’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just doing my part, like she should be doing hers. But all she does is act like I’m some wanton letch with one thing on my mind.”

  Brady smiled. “Well, aren’t you?”

  Collin scowled. “No! I just want a family—like Patrick and Marcy. Is that so awful?”

  “No, but you’ve got time for that. You’re only twenty-seven, and Faith’s only twenty-four. It’ll happen, Collin. Just pray about it, trust God, and love your wife.”

  Collin sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, well, for your information, I have been praying about it and I do trust God. But I have to tell ya, she’s made the last one pretty tough.” He looked up, hurt. “Do you know that she actually called me a ‘drooling baboon’?”

  Brady grinned. “She always has been a stickler for the truth.”

  “It’s not just that, Brady, it’s the fact that she doesn’t seem to want me as much I want her.” Collin folded his arms and frowned, a bit chastened. “It kind of hurts the ol’ ego, you know? I’ve never had a problem like this in the past. Before I married Faith, women couldn’t seem to keep their hands off me.”

  “Yeah, well, Faith is your wife, not a woman hoping to win you with favors. Besides, she may have a point. You’re obsessed with having a family, and maybe even a bit jealous of Mitch. Add that to a man who’s always had a pretty overactive drive, and I think you may be out of balance. Give her some space. Love her without the agenda.”

  “Yeah, I’ll give her space, all right. Plenty of space. Enough to cut down on my drooling, anyway.” He flashed an evil grin. “And maybe step up hers.”

  Brady cocked a brow. “Games, Collin? Sounds like you’re nursing a grudge.”

  Collin’s laugh was wicked as he jumped up to get coffee. “Speaking of ‘games’ and ‘grudges,’ ol’ buddy, what the devil happened to you the other night? Why’d you take off?”

  The tables were suddenly turned, and Brady didn’t like it one bit. He steeled his jaw and followed Collin to the back. Reaching for his work apron, he tied it with a hard jerk, then headed for the press.

  Collin’s hand gripped his shoulder. “Oh no you don’t, John, you’re not going to disappear under that machine, at least not yet. I just spilled my guts, and now it’s your turn. Here’s your coffee, ol’ buddy, park it awhile.” Collin set Brady’s cup on the table and pulled out a chair. He grabbed another and straddled it. The set of his mouth was a clear indication he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Brady heaved a weary sigh and sat. He fisted the hot cup and gulped it, ignoring the burning sensation searing his throat.

  Collin gritted his teeth. “Oooow! Doesn’t that burn?”

  Brady nodded and closed his eyes. The beginning of a headache pulsed in his brain. He reached up to massage his forehead. When he opened his eyes again, Collin looked worried.

  “What happened, John? I’m guessing the plan backfired?”

  “The plan?”

  “To get you and Lizzie together. Charity cooked it up . . . and my saintly wife.”

  Brady took a deep breath and exhaled. “I should have known. That’s not like Beth.”

  “Maybe it is. That girl is crazy in love with you. She’d do anything to turn your head.”

  “So I’ve learned.” Brady took another hefty swig of coffee. This time he barely noticed the burn. “She kissed me.”

  A smile tugged at Collin’s lips. “No kidding? Our Lizzie?”

  Brady stared him down. “It can’t happen, Collin. I refuse to get involved with her.”

  “You’re already ‘involved’ with her. Didn’t you like it?”

  “Yeah, I liked it. Lost a whole night of sleep because I liked it. If it wasn’t the attraction driving me crazy, it was the guilt. I can’t handle it.”

  “Guilt? Over what?”

  Brady leaned in, his eyes burning more than the coffee. “For thinking of her that way, for going too far in my mind, for the sick feeling I get. I know she’s not my sister, Collin, but I can’t help it—I feel . . . ashamed. I can’t afford to hurt her, and I can’t afford to hurt God.” He looked up, feeling like a man on the edge. “And I will, Collin, I will . . . if it continues. I know my own failings.”

  Collin blinked and his mouth slacked open. “So that’s why you don’t go near women? You’re afraid? Of the thoughts? That you won’t stop?”

  Brady sagged into the chair and looked away. “I h
ave a troubled past. I don’t react like a normal man. If I were to give in to Beth, or any other woman, it . . . it would control me, take me down.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Like it did before, a long, long time ago. I won’t go there again, Collin, not even for Beth.”

  “John, God has delivered you from your past. He wants you to be happy—in every way. Marriage can do that. Marriage to Lizzie.”

  “No! I told you before, it’s wrong.”

  Collin paused, then shifted in his seat, his voice slow and measured. “There’s nothing wrong about it, Brady . . . except in your own mind. What happened to you, anyway? Way back when? Something’s got a hold of you, my friend, and it scares me.”

  “God help me, it scares me! So much I can’t even think about Beth that way without shame.”

  Collin placed a hand on Brady’s arm. “John, talk to me. Tell me what happened. We can pray about it.”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to talk about it—ever. Just pray for me, please, that God gives me the grace to get through this.”

  Collin stared for a long moment, then released a quiet breath. “All right, John, I’ll pray—that you can face your past and give it to God. It’s the only way you can be happy.”

  With a weary nod, Brady looked up. “I have to avoid her. Will you help me?”

  Collin looked down at his hands and sighed. “Sure. What do you want me to do?”

  “Will you give this to her?” He retrieved a letter from his coat pocket and laid it on the table.

  “A letter’s not going to keep her away, you know.”

  “I know, but if I’m never here when she comes around, it might.”

  Collin picked the letter up and jostled it in his hand. “What if she comes at lunchtime, like usual?”

  “Then I won’t be here—you will. From now on, I’ll take the noon deliveries.”

  Collin peered up beneath slitted eyes. “You got it all worked out, don’t you? But are you so sure you’re doing the right thing?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” He moved to the press and sank to the floor, disappearing on the dolly beneath. He stared at the underbelly of the press and closed his eyes, seeing only Beth’s face. The right thing. For Beth . . . and for me.