Seducing Their Nun [Unlikely Bedfellows 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jenna Stewart

  “I love you, Catherine.”

  “I love you, Jordan.”

  He kissed her deeply, and she knew that like her, he wished he could lay her back and take her right there in the church parking lot. At the least, she hoped Father Samuels secretly watched them and could sense the feelings they had for one another.

  “If he’s watching, he’s probably having an attack right about now,” Jordan said. “We should get home. Time for breakfast.”

  The ride home was swift. She spent the time detailing things about the town—the trees, whose lawn was greenest, store sales advertised with window banners. The last thing she wanted to contemplate was how the town would view her once Father Samuels spewed his vile stories.

  Mark waited on the porch. He struggled to his feet when Jordan parked the car in the yard. “Good morning, Sister. I think I forgot to greet you properly earlier.”

  “Don’t worry, Mark. Sister Margaret Mary is being put away for a little while. Just call me Catherine.” Her hands reached for her rosary and the safety of hiding her hands from others’ view, but she fought it. From now on, she had to face the world.

  She had asked God to allow her to feel like a woman, a real, full woman, and by His grace, she did. Now, until they finished and she had to retreat back to the cloistered, religious life, she needed to live like a woman and face whatever came her way.

  * * * *

  “She slapped him?” Mark sounded as astounded as Jordan had felt.

  “She beat me to the punch by a few seconds, and he would have had more than a red face and bruised pride.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Yeah.” Jordan removed the thick slices of homemade bread Mandy had packed in the basket last night for their morning meal today. Mark put them on a tray and under the broiler to toast.

  “I’ve never met a woman as softhearted as she is. My mother just flat-out told her that her mother committed suicide, and Catherine found it in her to excuse her. Even forgive her.”

  “How did her mother do it?” Mark asked quietly.

  Jordan looked out at the ocean, calm and innocuous at a distance but dangerous as hell crashing against the rocks. “She jumped off the cliff, right out there.”

  “Christ. No wonder she about passed out when I made that stupid comment last night.”

  Jordan shrugged. “You didn’t know. And she didn’t worry about anything once we got upstairs.”

  “So I heard.” Mark shot him a grin.

  “Thought you were going outside.”

  Shrugging, he said, “Couldn’t muster the energy.” He leaned over to remove the tray and turn over the bread. “Besides, in the few minutes I heard you before going to sleep, it sounded good. Happiness sounded good.”

  He slapped Mark’s shoulder. “It will for you, too. You’ll see.” Then he grinned, too. “But for now, she’s putting away the habit. Finally, I know I have a fighting chance to make her stay.”

  Checking the stairs to ensure Catherine wasn’t quietly descending, he moved closer to Mark. “You can be a part of it.”

  Mark removed the browned bread from the oven and turned off the broiler before turning a questioning look at Jordan. “How?”

  “If she offers to help, let her.” He gave a single-shoulder shrug. “Chances are, she will. That’s just the kind of woman she is.”

  “What kind of woman am I?”

  Jordan jumped. “Sneaky.” He turned and then tried to hide his surprise. She wore a simple shirtwaist dress, dark blue with little pink flowers on it. A scarf covered her head and tied in back, but her hair showed. Her lower legs were bare, but she had on a pair of black flats that looked as though they’d seen some wear. Even after her words when they arrived at the cottage, he’d half expected her to come down in her work habit.

  Nervously, she bit her bottom lip. “Is this all right to wear?”

  “Are you kidding? Your mother’s clothes are a little big on you, but you look fine.”

  “Beautiful,” Mark added. “I don’t understand how you can look so great in your nun clothes and also in this.”

  “She’s just beautiful.”

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Stop, you two!” Then she looked up over her lashes and smiled. “But thank you.”

  “Let’s eat,” Mark said. One hand on his cane and the other carrying a plate of toast, he headed to the dining room. Jordan started to grab the plate when it wobbled frighteningly, but Catherine held out her hand to stop him.

  He knew it. She and Mark shared a bond from an internal pain only they understood. He could try, but he’d grown up in a loving home and come through the war unscathed. How could he begin to know the demons they fought?

  It was possible that they would develop feelings for each other. He took a moment to consider how he would feel if that happened. He watched them now, as Mark set down the toast and then pulled out the chair for Catherine. She smiled her thanks, and Jordan didn’t mistake the look of appreciation in Mark’s eyes. The kind of look a man gives a woman he wants.

  Observing his friend—the scars and deformity—and knowing the pain he must still be going through, there was no way he could be upset if he took comfort in the arms of any woman. Even his woman.

  And for Catherine, he sensed instinctively that she would find relief in helping Mark start his true healing time. One lonely soul would lead the other back into the world. He only hoped she and Mark saw things the same way, that they wouldn’t let loyalty to him stand in their way. But how to let them know he approved without sticking his foot in his mouth and making a fool of himself?

  “Jordan,” Catherine called. “Are you coming?”

  “Just waiting for the coffee to finish. Go ahead and start.” He heard them talking but not what they said. Catherine laughed. He loved the sound. She’d put away the habit and changed again. She wasn’t the same woman who had arrived in Ballymeade a short week ago. Thank God.

  By the time the coffee perked and he took the pot and three cups to the table, he had the beginnings of a plan.

  “I’m going to have to be gone a few days in the next week,” he announced as he sat down. He poured coffee for each of them and then buttered a slice of bread.

  “When did you find this out?” Catherine asked. Worry crinkled her eyes when she looked across the table.

  “I should have thought of it before. I’m in the middle of negotiations for my dad’s firm. I’ll be running up to Portland trying to get things settled. You’ll be able to stay and help Catherine, won’t you, Mark?”

  Mark shifted his attention from her to Jordan. “Well…sure. If you want me to, that is.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Catherine smiled at Mark, a nice, warm, inviting smile, though surely she didn’t know how it looked.

  Then she smiled at him. “But you’ll be back soon, won’t you, Jordan?”

  Just like that, things fell into place. “You know I can’t stand to be away from you for long.” He’d have to warn Mark to keep an eye out for Tipton, but he wouldn’t have to say anything else to him about letting Catherine get closer. From the looks he gave her already, nature would take its course.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next morning, Jordan left. Left her alone with a strange, intriguing man. What had Mark been like before the war? Had women been attracted to him? Had he laughed and enjoyed his work and his leisure? Now he seemed only to be existing, unsure of where to go next. With her habit hanging in the closet and feelings of betrayal of the community of sisters she left back in Ohio plaguing her, she knew exactly how he felt.

  She went onto the porch. “Would you like more coffee?” Mark had been in the yard staring at the ocean for almost fifteen minutes. He faced the Pacific and the East. Was he remembering Korea or just contemplating what the world held for him?

  He turned slowly, using his cane for balance and strength. “No thanks. I guess we’d better get to work.”

  “Yes, when Jordan returns he’ll exp
ect to see great progress.” She smiled as he came closer. He tripped on the stairs and nearly went down but caught the railing. She had to restrain herself from rushing to his side. His body bore enough pain. No need to wound his pride, too.

  He pulled himself up and gave her a rueful smile. “You trust me to handle your mother’s things?”

  “I trust you to handle anything, just as I trust Jordan.” When she saw that he was all right, she said, “Shall we start in the living room next? If we clear out some of what will go anyway, you’ll have more room to spread out.”

  “I don’t need much space, but that seems as good a place to work as any.”

  “I’ll get the boxes and paper if you want to settle somewhere with Jordan’s ledger.”

  Jordan had taken care yesterday to show both of them how he noted each item in his book, a column for the number, one for the description, one to say where Catherine designated it should go, and a final one to say if the item was being held for auction or sale. Fortunately, he had asked Mandy for additional food to cover the time he expected to be gone. Even if they’d had a car, she didn’t know how to drive and Mark couldn’t yet use a clutch. They were stuck there, but strangely, she didn’t fear that. A little over a week ago, she would have panicked at the thought of spending time with a man. Not with Jordan, though, and not with Mark, either.

  She came into the living room. Mark had folded the bed away, opening the space. She carried the newsprint away from her dress, the blue one with the flowers again. She was lucky that her mother’s clothes fit her, but she didn’t want to soil everything in the closet by working in them.

  “Jordan was a good caretaker of the house after the deaths of his father and my mother. It must have been hard for him to work while grieving, but when I arrived he had the services turned on and loads of boxes and newspaper.”

  “He would be an excellent lawyer if that’s what he wanted to do.”

  She looked up, surprised. “I thought it was what he wanted. Not here,” she allowed, “because he’s selling his father’s business, but I assumed somewhere.” As unlikely as it would have been, she’d prayed that he wouldn’t move near the convent. To know he was somewhere near, living his life so close by, would have killed her. The only way she would be able to pick up where she left off would be to forget everything about Jordan Parnell. The task might prove impossible.

  “You should ask him what he wants. I’m sure he’d like to discuss it with you.”

  She sat on the sofa and picked up a small figure from the side table. “This looks like it might be worth something.” She fixed him with her gaze. “You could tell me what Jordan plans for his future.”

  “I hope he and I will share our futures.” He winked. “But I’m not going to be the one to spill the beans about our plans. I think you’re right. This looks like fine porcelain. Let’s set it aside for appraisal.”

  “Where did you learn to judge the value of things? I’ve only learned a few things from Jordan the last week.”

  “My family owns a pawn shop in Minneapolis. You develop a keen eye for what things are worth when people are always trying to sell you something.”

  They worked well together. She held an item up for his examination, he noted it in the ledger, and then she placed it aside or wrapped it for the boxes. She moved around the room while he was able to sit with his leg up.

  “Tell me about growing up in Minneapolis.”

  “It wasn’t very exciting.”

  “You’d be surprised what I find exciting.”

  “I have a brother and two sisters. My dad did well with the shop, but with three kids—I was grown and nearly out of the house by the time my brother was born—there never seemed to be anything extra. We all worked, but we had fun playing, too. Baseball, kickball, anything that kept us outdoors and away from chores.”

  “It sounds glorious.” She held out a wooden basket that had borders painted on it. Mark shook his head.

  “Tell me about your childhood. I’ll bet you were a good girl who never gave your mother any headaches.”

  “I grew up in the convent, actually.” She studied his expression. “Jordan didn’t tell you?”

  “Jordan has spoken of you nearly nonstop, but he gave me no background information.”

  She laughed, and then the joy faded. “My mother sent me there when I was six. I went to school and then joined the order when I graduated from high school.”

  “Why did you become a nun? Wasn’t there something else you wanted to try, to explore?”

  She wrapped a small painting in paper and fit it in the box at her feet. “I guess not. I was so used to them and their ways, it seemed natural to take the next step.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “It doesn’t seem right somehow. You grew up in a sheltered environment and had no idea what the world was all about. How could you make a good decision about your future without knowing what your choices were?”

  She bit her bottom lip, thinking. “That’s true, although…I was protected as well as sheltered. I was there through the wars. We worked hard, and we benefitted from the work. We didn’t have a great deal, but we had what we needed. And great peace comes with spending your life in prayer. It’s not a bad way of life.” Although now it might be, now that she knew what she would be missing.

  “I don’t mean that it’s a bad way of life, just that you didn’t know anything else. It’s like going to a restaurant and ordering a hamburger without knowing that steak is on the menu. It’s not that steak is any better, but a person likes a choice.”

  “I see what you mean,” she said slowly. “I suppose at the time it felt right.” Or had she been pushed and nudged in that direction by the sisters she had come to trust? They hadn’t wanted her to come back here, where she might become contaminated with her mother’s lifestyle. They had kept her from it until her mother died, but even that hadn’t protected her. She had become the lover of one man and was entertaining another alone in the house.

  Catherine began wrapping a bowl that had held dead flowers when she arrived when the sound of a car coming down the lane attracted her attention. It couldn’t be Lonnie. She had told him early this morning that she wouldn’t need him to drive her to Mass any longer. Was Jordan back early? They didn’t expect him until tomorrow. She peered through the curtains and saw a long black car stop near the front steps.

  “Oh no. It’s Brendan Tipton.”

  * * * *

  Mark put the ledger aside. This was the guy Jordan had warned him to watch out for. He was sure Jordan hadn’t thought that the jerk would show up within hours of his leaving—and neither had Mark. He didn’t have a fucking idea what he should do now.

  “I’ll go out and see what he wants,” Catherine said.

  Mark was pretty sure that wasn’t what Jordan would want him to let happen. “Wait. Let me go out and see what he wants.” A car door slammed out front.

  “But Mark, then he’ll know you’re here. He already knows that Jordan and I are…” She bit her bottom lip.

  “I’ll explain everything. Don’t worry.” He pulled his duffel bag closer and dug down deep, rummaging through everything still packed to find what he wanted. The door opened and closed. Damn. For a nun, Catherine sure had a mind of her own.

  When he reached the door, he opened it to see a very large man speaking intensely. Catherine hung her head. Her hands folded at her waist, she didn’t appear to be saying anything back. Mark limped to the top step before Tipton noticed he was there.

  “Catherine, Catherine! You are indeed your mother’s daughter. Two lovers now?” He reached out and stroked her cheek. She recoiled. “Taking on a third shouldn’t be much of a problem at all for a talented girl like you.”

  “Take your hands off her.” Mark was boiling mad, but he kept his voice calm and steady. His concern was all for Catherine. She seemed rooted to the spot.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “A friend of Jordan’s.”

  He leered
at Catherine. “And of hers, I presume.”

  “A friend, yes. Anything beyond that, no.” Mark leaned on his cane. “Not that it’s any of your damn business.”

  Tipton took a step away from Catherine and toward Mark. “But it is my business. As a particular friend of Catherine’s mother, I take her needs and, uh, desires, very personally.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I see she’s given up the charade of being holy. She’s slimmer than her mother. I’ll bet she’s hell in bed.”

  Mark took in a breath and heaved it out. “Speaking of hell, get the hell out of here. Don’t come back.”

  Tipton laughed. “Who’s going to make me? A cripple like you?”

  Catherine gasped and finally moved when she spun wide-eyed toward Tipton. “Do not malign him, Mr. Tipton. Can’t you see who you’re talking to?”

  Shit! He’d thought Catherine saw him as a person, not as an injured, broken man. Now he knew it was all an act, though a well-played one.

  Tipton snorted. “I see exactly who I’m talking to. He couldn’t whoop a gnat.”

  “I wouldn’t count out a Marine, no matter what condition he’s in.” Mark knew he had to take care of the asshole first. Then he’d face Catherine’s words and how they betrayed his secret desires.

  She moved away from Tipton and climbed the porch steps to stand beside Mark. “Mr. Tipton, this man is going to make you leave. If you don’t leave on your own, he will make you wish you had. Don’t let the cane fool you. He could ‘whoop’ you with both hands tied behind his back.” She folded her hands at her waist again, but she did not hang her head. “And if you would be so kind, please never mention my mother to me again. I am not like her, because I would never align myself with anyone like you.” She turned and entered the house, leaving both him and Tipton amazed and speechless.

  When they faced each other again, Tipton started to laugh. “She sure is something. Tell me, is she as much a hellion in bed, or does she follow orders for anything you want, like a good nun?”