A Passion Most Pure (Daughters of Boston, Book 1) Page 10

  She looked sick standing there, the frigid wind whipping at her hair. Without a word, she moved to the door, then turned to confront him, her back stiff and her face set. "You know, Collin, I feel sorry for you. You think every woman will collapse under your spell. The charming Collin McGuire, so irresistible to women. Well, you're wrong. Not every woman chooses to do so, at least not this one. I'm looking for someone I can give my heart to and know it will be safe. Someone strong and good and moral. Youyou're just bent on your own quest of misguided lust, and I doubt if you will ever be satisfied."

  She turned the knob, and in a split second he was there, his face inches from her own. She turned away as if she could smell the liquor on his breath. "Pretty high and mighty, aren't we, Faith O'Connor? I think you're lying. I think I have gotten to you, only you don't want me to know it. Why don't we just see?"

  He pressed her back against the door, his lips muffling her response. He kissed her long and hard until the fight faded away. Only then did his lips leave her mouth to stray along the curve of her chin and nip at her earlobe. She moaned, her passion igniting him like no other woman had ever done. He was breathing hard and fast as his lips smothered her neck, and the ecstasy of it all was so staggering, he thought he would lose his mind. What am I doing?

  She seemed so weak in his arms but somehow managed to pull away, and when she spoke, her whisper was an urgent plea. "No! I don't want this-please, Collin, no!"

  His eyes were on fire. "Yes, you do! I can feel it! You can't lie to me, Faith, I feel it!"

  She opened her mouth to protest, but his lips silenced her, softening against her own. The sweetness of her kiss mingled with salty tears that glistened on her cheek. Stunned, Collin tilted her face in the moonlight.

  "You're crying!" he uttered in surprise. Silently, and with more tenderness than he intended, he wiped her face with his fingers. "I'm sorry," he whispered gruffly, "I didn't mean to be rough, but you got under my skin." He cupped her chin firmly with his hand, gentling his tone. "I know you're feeling the same thing I am, Faith. Why are you fighting it?"

  She sniffed and leaned against the door, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She looked like such a little girl standing there, and Collin knew he was treading on dangerous ground.

  "Because I really don't want to do this. I ... I do feel wonderful things when you kiss me, Collin, I won't lie to you. But it can't happen again. I don't want it to happen again, please."

  He felt a sharp pain in his gut. What was she saying? There was something remarkable between them-they both felt it. Was she going to walk away from it? He shifted, keenly aware of her gaze. He fanned his fingers through his hair, then rubbed at his temple. "Because of Charity?" he asked, his eyes back on hers.

  "No ... I mean, yes, of course because of Charity. But not just because of her."

  "What, then?" He stepped back, thrusting his hands in his pockets. He suddenly felt like such a little boy-so unlike himself-and horribly awkward as she stared up at him.

  "Because of Charity, yes, and because of my father, but mostly because of the way you make me feel. I ... can't afford to feel that way, Collin. The feelings-they scare me."

  He grabbed her shoulders, relief flooding through him. "They scare me too, Faith, from that first moment in the park. I'm not sure what's going on, but there's something here, a pull between us. I felt it then when I looked in your eyes, and I know you felt it too. I don't know why or how, but it's there and it's real, and I can't fight it anymore. Any more than you can. Why do we even have to?"

  She swallowed hard as she looked up at him. "Because these feelings-as wonderful as they are-they're not right. Not now, maybe not ever."

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. He dropped his hands to his sides, and she rubbed her arms where his warmth had been. "What are you talking about, Faith? You've got me out of my mind. Do you want me or not?"

  She took a deep breath before answering. "No. Not this way."

  The impact of her words was like a physical blow. He bent over slightly, all arrogance crashing to the ground. "Why?" His voice was a whisper.

  She reached to gently touch his arm. "Because I want it to be right. That's more important to me than anything in the world. Yes, I feel the fire when you touch me, but I need more than that. I need more than the physical aspect, hard as that is to resist. As much as I ... want you ... I have to be sure it's also what God wants."

  He couldn't have been more stunned if she had slapped him. "God? What the blazes does God have to do with it?"

  Her green eyes bristled. "Everything. I don't want anything or anyone unless it's what God wants."

  "And what does God want?" he asked, his tone mocking.

  "He wants you, Collin. He wants you to pursue him instead of your lust."

  He could feel his anger flare. Pressing toward her once again, he ran his hand up the side of her robe. He laughed when she caught her breath. "Oh, really? And this God of yours, is he going to keep you warm at night?"

  She thrust his hand away. "You are something, Collin McGuire. All you think about, care about, is your desire for the moment. Well, I want more, much more. I'm looking for something you don't seem to know a lot aboutgenuine love, like the kind between my parents. And yes, Collin, the kind of love where God is at the center. That's the only thing I'm going to settle for, and I guarantee it'll have more passion than you'll know in a lifetime."

  "I doubt that. And who's gonna give you this passionate love-God?"

  "Someone will ... someone who loves God as much as I do. I'm saving it for him, Collin. All the passion you provoke in me, it all belongs to him, wherever he is."

  "You go right ahead, lady," he said, his eyes stinging with fury. "You save all that holy love of yours for God. But I'll lay good money on the table that says you're gonna end up a very bitter and a very lonely old maid."

  Thrusting her chin, she stared boldly into his eyes, a faint smile on her lips. "No, I don't think so. I think you have the future all wrong. Someday, twenty years down the road, when you're still looking for love in the arms of any girl, you and I will probably meet again. And, I think you'll know me. I'll be the one with the smile on my face."

  And before he could grab her once again, she turned and slipped inside, quickly locking the door behind her. Collin stared after her, open-mouthed and totally bewildered. Dramatic exits usually belonged to him. But for once, like it or not, he'd finally been upstaged.

  Something was wrong. Charity wasn't herself. All she'd done all morning was mope around, never saying a peep, not even the usual gibes as Faith sprawled on her bed writing poetry. She seemed almost meek, so unlike Charity. She sat on her bed, staring blankly out the window.

  Faith stopped writing. "Are you all right? I mean, you haven't said a word to anyone all morning. I thought you would be at the library today, or at least out with someone ..."

  Charity slumped against the headboard. "I'm just a little down today, I suppose."

  Faith searched her sister's face. "What's wrong? Is it Collin?" she asked against her better judgment.

  Several seconds passed before Charity nodded. Faith pushed her journal aside and rose, moving to sit next to her sister. "Did you have a fight?"

  Charity shook her head and sniffled.

  "Then what?"

  Her sister swatted a tear from her cheek and slowly sat up on the bed. "I haven't seen him. Not once for over a month now. I've sent messages through Mary, but he never came. I don't know what's wrong. Oh, Faith, what if there's somebody else?"

  Charity turned, her face stricken with fear, and Faith put her arms around her. She closed her eyes. It had been exactly a month since her encounter with Collin on the back porch. Surely he wasn't avoiding Charity because of her? Faith opened her eyes again. Well, if he was, it was an answer to prayer. She felt sorry for Charity, but in her heart she was grateful. Collin McGuire wasn't good for her sister. And until God got ahold of him, if he ever did, Faith was afraid Collin McGuire wouldn't be good for anyone
.

  "Charity, I didn't want to tell you this before, but I think I need to now. Once I do, you'll understand why it's better you don't see him anymore."

  Charity pulled away. "Tell me what?"

  Faith went to her drawer, plucked out a handkerchief, and handed it to her sister. Charity took it and blew her nose, her eyes riveted to Faith's face.

  "Charity ... Collin sees ... other women."

  Charity's eyes went wide. "You're lying!"

  Faith felt a blush rise in her cheeks as her sister stared at her in disbelief. "No, I'm not lying. I know for a fact he does. There's this girl at work-her name is Briana-and it seems she's in love with him too. Only. . ."

  Charity stood up. "You're lying! Collin cares for me; he's told me so. And I know it in my heart. He couldn't be in love with anyone else."

  "I didn't say he loved her, Charity." Faith hesitated as she searched for the right words. "I just know that ... well, Briana told me that ..."

  "Told you what?" Charity looked as if she were going to shake her.

  "Briana told me she and Collin, well, they're intimate. At least they were when we last spoke. Charity, listen to me. Collin uses Briana. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  Charity sank to the bed, her face turning a sickly pale.

  "Charity, he's no good for you. Father's right-Collin's only out for Collin. He'll tell you he loves you, just like he used to tell Briana, but in the end, it's just to get what he wants."

  Without saying a word, Charity rose. She squared her shoulders and lifted her head. "That may be true for your Briana, but it's not true for me. Collin does care for me; I know it. We've kissed, but he's never, ever crossed the line with me. I know in my heart he's not using me to get what he wants." Charity started for the door, then turned to give Faith an icy look. A lump shifted in Faith's throat as Charity's chin jutted in defiance. "But, if that's what it takes ..." She turned to leave.

  Faith couldn't believe her ears. She ran to grab her sister's arm and spun her around. "What are you saying? That you're going to try to win him like Briana did? Are you out of your mind? It didn't work for Briana. What makes you think it will work for you?"

  "Why not? I love him." Charity's voice chilled the air.

  "Because it's wrong! It's against everything we believe in, everything Mother and Father have taught us. It's against God, Charity. It's not what he wants for you, and you know it."

  "So what? I know what I want for me, and that's all that matters. You and your oh-so-devout faith in God. Well, it hasn't done a whole lot for you when it comes to Collin McGuire, now has it, Faith?"

  Faith went cold. "What are you talking about?" she whispered.

  Charity's smile was mocking. "I'm talking about the undying love you've had for Collin for years now, only he doesn't even know you exist."

  "You're out of your mind ..."

  "Am I? Like you're out of your mind with love when you write pages and pages of poetry about him?"

  "You've ... read my journal ..." Faith's voice was barely audible as the realization sunk in. The blood rushed from her face.

  "Of course I have, for years now. At first, I only read it because I was bored and thought it was funny. All you ever wrote about was Collin, Collin, Collin. Then I found out who Collin was, and suddenly, I didn't think you were so crazy anymore. So you see, big sister, I actually have you to thank for my unceasing devotion to the man I have every intention of marrying-one way or the other. And there's nothing you, Mother or Father, or God can do about it."

  Charity opened the door. With a regal toss of her head, she glanced back, and for the briefest of moments, a glimmer of sympathy flickered on her beautiful face. But just as quickly as it had come, she seemed to dismiss it, leaving their room in considerably better spirits than when she had arrived.

  Jackson was worried. Never in all the time he'd known Collin had he seen him like this. That covered a lot of territory-since the fourth grade at St. Stephen's when Collin had shoved Johnny McGee against the blackboard for giving Jackson a bloody nose. From that moment on, Jackson had sworn his allegiance to the tall kid who had a way with the nuns. It had been fun-a virtual whirlwindriding on the coattails of this handsome charmer, along with the girls who always seemed to be hanging on too. Despite sporadic bouts of being overly serious about life and his occasional somber moods, Collin was to Jackson the best friend a man could raise a toast to and the brother he never had. He knew most everything about him-how he felt when his father died, what he thought of his mother, his favorite drink, his favorite women, and when he was or wasn't happy. And Jackson was worried. Collin wasn't happy.

  Nobody noticed but Jackson. Everyone else just thought he needed the money from the double shifts he constantly requested. Sixteen straight hours of sweat pouring off muscles so tired and sore, his body looked like a limp rag when he dragged it to the door to punch out. Eight o'clock in the morning to midnight spent hoisting containers of coal to feed a fire hot enough to melt steel-and maybe burn away some memories in the process.

  It was a minute before midnight as Jackson waited outside the back entrance of Southfield Steel, shivering and rubbing his hands against the sleeves of his thin jacket. He leaned against the brick wall and tugged his coat tighter. The sound of a whistle pierced the night air. Within moments, men-or shells of men-trudged through the corridor toward the doors, dazed and lifeless, their energy spent in the bowels of Boston's most prolific steel mill. Jackson watched for Collin, his gaze darting from face to face.

  He was the last to the door, whether too exhausted to hurry along with the others or because he had nowhere in particular to go, Jackson wasn't sure. All he knew was he had never seen his friend so listless, so removed from the Collin he loved. His eyes were tired, and the flesh on his face seemed to sag, aging him at least ten years. He didn't smile when he saw Jackson, only stared and nodded, as if Jackson were a mere acquaintance.

  At that moment, Jackson would have given anything to get his hands on Charity's sister. She had done this to his best friend, he knew it, because ever since that night outside her house, Collin hadn't been the same. He had been a madman when he stormed into Brannigan's just before closing, ready to pick a fight and not a bit particular about with whom.

  "If ever I wanted to put a woman in her place," he hissed, "it would be that one." He ordered a beer, then argued with Lucas Brannigan when he wouldn't serve it.

  "It's late, Collin, go home; you've had enough," Lucas said.

  Jackson had to hold Collin back from jumping the bar to take Lucas on.

  "Collin, come on, buddy, let's get out of here. I'll take him home, Lucas."

  Jackson pushed Collin toward the door, talking fast, desperate to calm him down. "Who, Charity? What did she do?" Jackson asked, running to keep up with Collin as he tore down the street.

  "No, her holier-than-thou sister, that's who. I tell you, Jackson, I never wanted to put a fist through a wall so much in my entire life. She's a real loon. So help me, I gotta stay away from that family and anything even remotely related to that woman, including Charity. Or I swear, I won't be responsible for my actions."

  "What did she do to you?" Jackson was dying to know what anyone could do to put Collin in such a state.

  Collin stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned, his eyes blazing with anger. "She wants me to turn to God." He enunciated each word as if he couldn't quite believe any of them, his face as mocking as his tone as he raged on. "Can you believe that? She's a bloomin' fanatic, which is just another word for someone who tells you they're better than you are. I'm the unforgivable sinner, and she's the righteous Christian out to save me. Well, the only thing she can save is her breath because this guy is not gonna let any woman-or any god-push him around."

  Jackson was dumbfounded. "She wants you to turn to ... God?" It was more than he could handle. Poor Collin, out for a little fun and ending up at church! Jackson doubled over, his laughter echoing through the alleyway.

  Coll
in stared, seeming annoyed, and then the whole thing apparently struck him funny as well. The two of them whooped so loud someone yelled out a window for them to shut up.

  Since that night, four weeks had come and gone, and Jackson had seen precious little of his friend. Collin seldom met him at Brannigan's anymore. Most of his days and nights were spent working and sleeping, then working some more. Jackson couldn't take it. Something had to be done-Collin was way too close to the edge. He watched while Collin silently punched out, then Jackson swung his arm loosely around his friend's shoulder as he emerged through the door.

  "Hey, buddy, I miss ya ... and I miss the fun I don't have when you're not around. How about a late one?"

  Collin was whipped. Without protest, he allowed Jackson to steer him along, almost as if he didn't have a mind of his own. Actually, he didn't. Not lately, anyway. His mind, his thoughts were all back there somewhere in a vat of liquid steel, and that suited him just fine. He didn't want to think, to allow his mind to follow its natural inclination of late, to think about her. He would do anything to drive her out of his mind-fill every moment with work until he was so exhausted he couldn't think of anything but sleep. And that was the irony of it all. Even when he slept, he couldn't escape her face, her words ...

  "He wants you, Collin. He wants you to pursue him instead of your lust. "

  Collin had never felt like this, and it scared him. She scared him, and he didn't want anything to do with her. From that moment in the park when he had kissed her, it was like he'd been possessed, cursed to dream of her, think of her, want her. He'd known women far more beautiful, far more accommodating, far more easy to control. But this! Two encounters and she'd traveled his system like poison, the very same poison that had killed his father. It was moments like this he almost wished he believed in her God so he could pray to be rid of her. Yes, if truth be told, his soul craved to love a woman like that, to the depth of his being. But the risk was too high. That kind of all-consuming love could destroy him. She could destroy him. Better a love restrained, like his for Charity, than a love that controlled.