A Passion Denied

by Julie Lessman

  “For pity’s sake, Lizzie, you’re picking a tile, not a man to marry. Just do it.”

  Lizzie jolted back to the game and snatched a domino. “Hold your horses, Katie, I was just thinking.”

  “Yeah, and not about dominoes, I’ll bet. Probably moonin’ over Tom Weston.”

  “Katie, just make your selection and leave Lizzie alone.” Steven leaned back in his chair and studied his tiles.

  With a grunt, Katie plucked a wood rectangle from the pile. “Well, he’s coming soon, isn’t he?”

  “So what?” Lizzie eyed the clock on the mantel. Seven forty-five. She bit her lip and peeked across the room. Tom was coming at eight, and she still hadn’t talked to Brady yet. Alone.

  “So you’re preoccupied, and this is a game to the death.” Katie’s eyes narrowed when she looked at Cluny. “Right, Steven?”

  “Oh!” Lizzie’s pulse sped up when Brady stood to his feet and tossed the paper aside. He strolled from the parlor in the direction of the bathroom. Lizzie jumped up. “Sorry, Katie, and you’re right. I am preoccupied. Why don’t you all start another game without me?”

  She darted away faster than Katie could object, and hurried to the bathroom. She bit her lip and paced outside the door, rubbing her sweaty hands on her blue pleated skirt. She heard the faucet running and flattened to the side of the wall. The door opened, and her heart stopped.

  “Brady?”

  He turned.

  “Can we talk?”

  The look on his face was not a good sign. Head cocked, brows furrowed, and lips skewed so tight, they triggered a nerve flickering above the hard line of his jaw. He propped a hand casually against the wall, but his tension was obvious from the stiff muscles ribbing his arm. “You mean like last time?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. She angled her chin in defiance. “No. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, both in your letter and how you’ve shut me out of your life.”

  He didn’t blink. “What do you want, Beth?”

  “I want to talk. About our friendship . . . about getting it back.”

  He just stared, his eyes as cold as that night he’d left.

  She shivered and looked away, fidgeting with her fingers. “You never gave me the chance . . . to apologize, to tell you how sorry I am that I—” she swallowed the lump in her throat— “did what I did.”

  “You ruined what we had, Beth.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I know, I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.” He turned away.

  She gripped his arm. “You have to forgive me, Brady. You, of all people, have always taught me that.”

  He stopped and stared at her hand, which still clutched his arm. He exhaled hard. “I’m working on it, Beth, but you have no idea the damage you did.”

  She removed her hand to swipe at her eyes. “Yes, John, I do. I lost the best friend I ever had, the mentor for my soul, and the only human being I’ve ever really cherished, outside of my family.” A sob broke loose from her throat, and she stifled it with quivering fingers. “I miss you, and I need you. As a friend. To talk with, to pray with.” Her voice softened to a near whisper. “I give you my word.”

  He studied her through slitted eyes while a nerve still flickered in his cheek. He drew in a hard breath and blew it out again. “All right, Beth, your word. Friendship. And not a mention of anything else.”

  She nodded. Her breath was thick in her throat.

  He sighed and turned away, suddenly looking very tired.

  She fought to keep the buoyancy from her tone. “Monday, then? As usual? We were going to study Psalms, remember?” Her tension eased when the hardness faded from his face.

  “Yeah, I remember. Sounds good.”

  She smiled, feeling as if a mountain of guilt had just slid off her shoulders. The doorbell rang and she hurried to answer it, flashing a smile over her shoulder. “You won’t regret it, Brady, I promise.”

  He already did. He watched as she opened the door, and an unexpected jolt of jealousy seared through his gut. A tall, good-looking kid stood on the front porch with a box of candy in his hand and a goofy grin on his face. She held the screen door while he grazed her cheek with a kiss.

  Brady’s jaw felt like rock as he reentered the parlor. “Cluny? It’s time to go.”

  Cluny looked up. “Cain’t, Brady. I’m winnin’.”

  Brady scowled and retrieved his paper from the couch. He folded it up and laid it on the table. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow, bud. You best wrap it up.”

  Groaning, Cluny pushed in his tiles.

  “What’s the rush?” Collin said. “Sit down and relax. Work will keep.”

  He remained standing. “Sorry, Collin, I’m whipped.”

  “I know the feeling.” Mitch stifled a yawn and turned the page of his paper.

  “Hey, Tom, Happy Easter.” Patrick and Sean looked up from their chess game while the boy made the rounds in the room.

  Collin leaned close. “You’re scowling, Brady. It’s not like you. Besides, you were the one who told Lizzie to get on with her life.”

  “Tom, would you like a piece of pie?”

  “That sounds wonderful, Mrs. O’Connor, thank you.”

  “Lizzie, take him into the kitchen and cut him a piece, will you?”

  Brady clutched Cluny by the back of the neck. “Mr. and Mrs. O’Connor, thank you so much for a wonderful Easter, but I’m afraid we have to head home.”

  Charity struggled to rise up on the love seat. “But you said you would play whist after they finished dominoes.”

  Brady managed a tired smile. “Sorry, Charity, I’ll have to take a rain check.”

  She plopped back down on her pillow. “Killjoy.”

  Faith hugged him good night, followed by Marcy. “Thanks for coming, Brady. Cluny, you bring him back, you hear?”

  Cluny shot a smirk in Katie’s direction, obviously ignoring her nasty look. “Yes, ma’am, count on it.”

  Brady steered him quickly to the door, then waved a hand in the air. “Good night, everyone. Happy Easter, and thank you. See you tomorrow, Collin.” He ushered Cluny out the front door with a sigh of relief.

  “Gee whiz, Brady, what’s your all-fire hurry? I was having a good time.”

  “Sorry, bud, but all of a sudden I got real tired.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. Right after Lizzie’s boyfriend showed up.”

  “What?”

  “You’re jealous.”

  Brady stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

  Cluny peered up. “Come on, Brady, I may be little for my age, but I’m not a kid. I heard you and Charity talking that time. Lizzie’s under your skin in a big way.”

  Brady started walking fast.

  Cluny ran to keep up with him. “You told Charity you had a ‘problem.’ What’d ya mean by that?”

  Brady groaned and picked up pace. “You’re too young, Cluny, and I’m way too tired.”

  “Are ya sick?”

  “In a matter of speaking.”

  Cluny halted, his voice suddenly cracking. “You gonna die?”

  Brady stopped and turned. His heart clutched at the stricken look on Cluny’s face. He took a step toward the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder. “No, Cluny, I’m not gonna die. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

  Cluny shot into his arms with a fierce hold around his waist, his head pressed hard against Brady’s vest. “Don’t leave me, Brady. You’re the only true friend I’ve ever had.”

  Tears stung Brady’s eyes as he bent to clutch the slight boy in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, Cluny, and I’m honored to be your friend.”

  Cluny sniffed and pulled away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I hope Gram stays away a long, long time.”

  Brady hooked an arm around Cluny’s shoulder and headed down the street, his jealousy over Beth strangely forgotten. Suddenly he felt like a lucky man. “Yeah, me too, Cluny,” he whispered, “me too.”

  7

  Faith reached for
her favorite flannel nightgown from the hook on the door and stopped. Her hand hovered over its high-necked collar for several seconds, then strayed to a satin gown that peeked from behind—the one she’d worn during their honeymoon. She touched the silky pale green material and smiled at the memory. She hadn’t worn it for long.

  Nor since.

  She snatched her usual gown from the hook and lifted the satin one off before tossing the other back. She held it up in the mirror and posed, tilting her head to full advantage. Her lips twisted into a wry smile. Heaven help me, I’m reduced to Charity.

  She sighed and unbuttoned her blouse. What else could she do? Since the night of their fight, Collin seemed to be a different man. At least in the bedroom. Oh, he still stole kisses throughout the day and lavished her with love, but when the lights went out, it seemed that his interest did too. Her lips pressed into a determined line. And it was starting to wear on her nerves.

  From the moment she had married the man, he hadn’t left her alone. Almost night after night, his appetite never seemed to wane, whether from desire for her or a baby, she wasn’t always sure. But now, sleep actually had more of his attention than she, and she was shocked to realize how much she missed him. The glint in his eye after he showered, the glide of his hand on her leg, the playful dominance of his kisses—had all been missing for weeks now, since the night of the fight. Other than an occasion or two when she had approached him, their love life had come to a screeching halt. She smiled into the mirror.

  Until now.

  She pushed the lacy straps of her camisole off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Lifting the satin gown over her head, she shimmied it on. The smooth material spilled over her breasts in a lustrous sheen, revealing gentle curves that mounded softly above its low, scooped neck. She reached up and pulled the pins from her hair. Her auburn waves tumbled over her shoulders the way Collin loved. With a hint of a smile, she reached for the perfume he’d given her for Christmas and dabbed a bit behind each ear. She suddenly thought of Charity and grinned, boldly touching the fragrance to the deep V of her breasts. Drawing in a long breath, she opened the bathroom door and flipped the light off before padding to their room.

  Collin lay sprawled on top of the covers on his side of the bed, arm cocked on the pillow and head propped. A wayward thatch of dark hair fell over his forehead, almost into his eyes, the way it always did when he was focused. He appeared absorbed in the Bible Mrs. Gerson had given them for their wedding, and never looked up. As usual, he wore his striped flannel pajama bottoms without the shirt, revealing a lean, hard chest bereft of hair and sculpted with muscles. He turned a page with a bulge of his bicep, clear evidence of nights at the gym with Brady.

  “Collin?”

  He looked up with a casual glance, but the lump in his throat gave him dead away. She feigned innocence. “Are you going in early tomorrow?”

  His gaze seared her nightgown. He cleared his throat and turned a page. “No, why?”

  She smiled and approached him, feeling a lot like Charity as she bent to give him a quick kiss. She noted the smoky look in his eyes as he took in the swell of her breasts, and she felt almost giddy. She had him!

  “No special reason, really. I just thought we’d sleep in a bit and I could make you breakfast before I leave.”

  She moved around the bed with almost an indifferent air, enjoying his gaze as she slipped under the sheets.

  “Sounds wonderful,” he said before turning back on his side. “Mind if I read a bit?”

  She stared in shock at his hard-muscled back. Read? He wanted to read? She certainly had no desire to go head-to-head with the Word of God, but sweet sanctity of marriage, he wanted to read??

  “Not at all,” she lied as sweetly as she could, certain his back would scar if looks could singe. She stared hard at the ceiling and fumed, lips pursed and an annoying tic in her eye. What in the blazes was his problem, anyway? Wasn’t he attracted to her anymore? She fought back a wave of hurt and closed her eyes, forcing herself to think. No, a man like Collin didn’t lose interest overnight; he was too needy. Not unless . . . Her eyes flipped open. Unless he wanted to teach her a lesson. Pay her back. Her jaw dropped. Dear Lord, he was playing games? She peered at his back out of the corner of her eye and clamped her lips tight. All right, McGuire, two could play as well as one. She ground her jaw and tried to focus. What in the devil would Charity do?

  Suddenly it came to her as if her sister had just whispered in her ear. With a jut of her chin, she turned on her side and snuggled close, pressing her breasts against the cool skin of his back. He jolted a bit, and she hooked an arm over his hips. “Mind if I snuggle while you read? I’m cold.”

  “No,” he said, and she smiled at the strain in his voice.

  She idly moved her palm across the hard surface of his stomach, occasionally sinking into the smooth slope of his navel.

  He grabbed her hand. “Faith, I’m trying to read.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  He grunted and she grinned, molding her body closer to his. She waited.

  One minute. He turned a page. Two minutes. Another. Three minutes. The book slammed shut. He put it on the nightstand and turned out the light. Expelling a heavy breath, he shoved his covers down with the heels of his feet and slithered in. He yanked them back and settled in with hands folded on his stomach. “Good night.”

  She neatly slid an arm around his waist. “Good night, Collin. I love you.”

  He grunted.

  She settled in too, making sure her arm rested across his chest as she snuggled. She sighed and sidled in close, breathing slowly, evenly, in the rhythm of sleep.

  This time the wait was less than three minutes.

  With a frustrated growl, he flipped her on her back and descended with a low groan. “Blast you, woman, what the devil are you trying to do to me?”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  His hands devoured her as they traveled the length of her satin gown. “Don’t you dare play games with me, Faith McGuire, you know good and well what I mean. For pity’s sake, satin instead of flannel? A gown that barely covers your—” He kissed her hard, taking her breath away. His mouth wandered to the lobe of her ear before he pulled away. “And perfume? Sweet saints, you’re wearing perfume to bed?”

  She grinned in the dark. “Guess it proves two can play.”

  He blinked. His breathing was heavy as he stared, thick arms propped over her. “What do you mean, two can play? Play what?”

  “Your game. You know, pretending you’re too tired? That you’re not interested? Making me pay for hurting your pride? Well, the jig is up, and I win.”

  A slow smile eased across his lips. “You think so, do you? And what do you win?”

  She slipped one satin strap off her shoulder, then started on the other. “The affections of the man of my dreams and the love of my life.”

  His grin was dangerous. “Looks like I’m forced to concede . . . at least round one.” He pressed his mouth to the bare curve of her shoulder and trailed his lips to the V of her gown. His husky chuckle vibrated against her chest. “But only because I’m a good loser.”

  A shiver of heat traveled through her at his touch, and his breath was hot against her skin. She closed her eyes and uttered a soft moan, losing herself in the joy of his embrace.

  And, oh my, wouldn’t Charity be proud?

  Collin strolled in at nine with a whistle on his lips and a gleam in his eye. He rolled up the sleeves of his starched, blue work shirt and reached for an apron, giving Brady a smile brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window. “And the top of the morning to you, ol’ buddy,” Collin shouted, raising his voice so Brady could hear.

  Brady looked up from the noisy press, which was spitting out programs for Miss Ramona’s dance recital about as slowly as Miss Ramona was at taking a hint. The seventy-year-old dance teacher was convinced Brady was the perfect match for her granddaughter. Brady scowled and hollered back. “For
you, maybe—I’ve been here since six. What kept you? Or maybe I shouldn’t ask.”

  Collin chuckled and tied his apron as he sauntered into the back room. He slacked a hip against the counter and picked up one of the programs. “I suppose you’re invited to this one too?”

  A tight smile appeared on Brady’s lips. “Yep. Just call me a glutton for the arts. So, I assume from the annoying grin on your face that you cleared the air with Faith?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Collin poured himself a cup of three-hour-old coffee and turned to prop against the counter, enjoying the familiar cadence of the hum and clacking of paper against platen. “You know, Brady, you may be on to something.”

  Brady hiked a brow as he fed more paper into the Craftsman hand-fed press. “What are you talking about?”

  “Restraint.”

  Brady swiped the side of his face with the back of his hand. He now had a matched set of ink smudges on both sides of his cheeks. “What?”

  “It about killed me, but I stayed away from Faith to teach her a lesson, and let’s just say it was well worth the wait.” He took a sip of his coffee and closed his eyes. “Satin nightgown, lots of perfume, and enough fire to heat a—”

  Brady held up a hand. “I’m happy for you, Collin, truly, but spare me the details, please.”

  Collin sighed and took another sip. “I gotta tell ya, Brady, deep down I always worried marriage might be a bit too tame for me, you know? No longer being on the prowl? But thanks to a little restraint on my part, the thrill of the hunt is alive and well in my very own bedroom. You’re a genius, ol’ buddy.”

  Brady’s jaw sagged low. “You’re certifiably crazy, you know that?”

  Collin stood and took another sip. “Yeah, I do. Crazy about a certain redhead who I am determined will always want me as much as I want her. Enough jawing. I need to get to work.”

  “Collin?”

  He turned. “Yeah?”

  “You’re back on deliveries.”

  Collin squinted. “That’s gonna break a lot of hearts, you know, Miss Ramona’s included. Why?”

  Brady rubbed his jaw, then looked away. “Beth’s coming by for Bible study.”