A Passion Most Pure (The Daughters of Boston Book #1): A Novel

by Julie Lessman

  Faith felt the charge of adrenaline flooding her veins as he glared, but she probed the depths of his gray eyes and knew he was finally hearing her words. Her heart felt light, full of hope, and she prayed God would pierce his with the truth. His gaze shifted away as he appeared to wrestle with the words she’d spoken. After a while, he nodded and hunched forward on the swing, head hanging as he stared at the floor.

  “So, what do I do?” he asked gruffly.

  She turned and grabbed his hands, almost breathless with joy. “Oh, Collin, I can pray with you! For God to come into your heart, into your life. To make you the man he wants you to be and the husband you want to be for Charity.”

  He studied her, not saying a word, and she could tell he was struggling inside. Silently, she prayed God would help him to make the right choice. He looked away again, pulling his hands out of hers. Moments passed before he answered. When he did, his voice was sober and low. “Do it,” he said, so quietly she was afraid she hadn’t heard right.

  “You’ll let me pray with you?”

  “Yeah.” He put his hands back into hers.

  She was shaking. “Oh, Lord, thank you so much for this man before me. I know you love him. You’ve always loved him. He hasn’t acknowledged you, Lord, because he’s been hurt. But he wants the happiness you have for him, and I think he knows now you’re the only way to get it. Help him, Lord. Help him to turn his life over to you, to be the man you want him to be and the husband Charity needs. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”

  She opened her eyes. He was staring at her with a strange look and a faint smile. He squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Faith. As much as I hate to admit it, I actually feel better. I guess we’ll see how much this God of yours listens to your prayers.” The smile faded. His eyes became serious. “And, Faith, thanks for staying up … for being here.” He bent to kiss her cheek.

  The moment his lips touched her skin, a tingle of heat shot through her, causing her to gasp.

  He stiffened at the sound and searched her face in the moonlight. “Faith?”

  She dropped her gaze and backed away, her pulse skyrocketing. Why is this happening again? She was over him, wasn’t she? He wasn’t supposed to be able to make her heart race like this. Dear God, please—tell me I’m over him! He lifted her chin with his finger, then his lips parted in surprise as if he could read her thoughts. She saw the look in his eyes and tried to escape. “Collin, no …”

  He heard her words, she was certain, but they didn’t seem to register as his lips tasted hers. A shock wave of heat rippled through her. All restraint apparently gone, he pulled her to him, his touch gentle and urgent at the same time. She melted into his embrace as if she belonged there, her lips responding with a hunger that jarred her.

  “Oh, Faith, I love you. I can’t help it, I do.” His words tumbled out in a rush of husky rasps, between hungry kisses roaming the softness of her neck and her face. His hands pressed hard against her back, drawing her to him.

  She wrenched herself from his grasp and stumbled from the swing, limbs quivering as she stood. “Collin, we can’t!” she gasped, but the intensity in his face told her he wasn’t listening. He rose and caressed her shoulders with his hands, eyes burning into hers until she thought she would faint. He bent to kiss her again. A riptide of heat swelled, causing her to moan as he pulled her back to the swing.

  The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptation.

  Lord, deliver me!

  He seemed crazed with desire, breathing words of love in her ear as he kissed her. Neither heard the sound of the door as it quietly opened. But both heard a muffled scream.

  As if in shock, Charity stood before them, barefoot and shivering, watching the man she loved … loving her sister.

  Collin jumped to his feet, his face ashen. “Charity, no!” he moaned, standing there helpless.

  Charity looked at Collin, tears coursing her face in the moonlight. “How could you, Collin? My own sister! How could you do that to me?” She sobbed, and he grabbed her and tried to restrain her as she struggled against him.

  Faith felt dizzy as she stood. When she spoke, her voice was a lifeless whisper. “Charity, it was a mistake, a horrible mistake. Collin came looking for you … he wanted you. But he was drunk, and I was afraid Father would find him. So I gave him coffee and I … I stayed. I shouldn’t have, but I did. We were just talking and … I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Her sister was weeping so loudly, Faith wasn’t sure she had even heard her. Collin clutched Charity tightly and pressed his face against her hair, pleading his repentance. As he spoke, his eyes met Faith’s, and pain splintered through her.

  Nausea lodged in her throat, closing off her air. Turning away, she quietly slipped inside, leaving the only man she ever wanted where she knew he belonged—in the arms of her sister.

  Collin wondered what time it was, but he dared not risk a glance at his watch. Charity was finally calmer now; the tears had subsided for a while, even though she hadn’t spoken a word since she’d found him with Faith.

  Faith. The mere thought of her brought a rush of sadness and pain unlike any he’d ever felt before. He had told her he loved her. Was it true? Or had it only been the heat of passion? Collin thought about this woman who was as passionate with him as she was fierce in her devotion to her God, and he suspected in his heart it was probably true. She stirred his mind, his body, and now his soul more than any woman ever had, and there was no turning back, no fighting it any longer. God, what am I going to do? The irony of his invoking God’s name suddenly hit him square in the chest. All the times he had carelessly uttered it had been more as an epithet of profanity than a prayer. Now he was faced with one of the most difficult situations of his life, and he wondered if it hadn’t been more of a cry for help through years of loneliness.

  He thought about Faith praying for him. She didn’t fight fair, that woman. He had wanted no part of her God or the control she exercised over his heart. He tried to fight her, but armed with her faith and her prayer, she managed to win anyway, getting him to invoke the very God who kept them apart. He wondered if the prayer she had spoken on his behalf would truly have any effect. He had felt peace at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure. Pretty words, but could they change his heart? Apparently not, judging from the pain he’d caused—both to the woman in his arms now and the one who’d been there not long before.

  Charity began to stir, and Collin gently lifted her face to his. He felt a stab in his chest as he looked at her tearstained cheeks and haunted eyes. “Charity, I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me. I’ve betrayed your trust, and to me, that’s unforgivable. I don’t know how it all happened, but one thing I do know is that I never meant to hurt you. I hope you believe that.”

  Charity nodded, her head languishing against his chest. He could feel her shivering, so he tugged her close.

  “Charity, I swear—I came here tonight only to see you. But I was drunk and Faith just got home, so she tried to sober me up. You have to believe me—I had no intention of it ending up the way it did.” He dragged a hand through his hair, his words coming out too fast. “I mean, you know Faith … what a fanatic she can be. One minute she’s telling me about God and praying for me, and the next …”

  “Collin? Do you … do you have feelings for Faith?” She sounded scared.

  Collin was tempted to lie. He swallowed hard. “Yes … I do.” He could feel her stiffen in his arms before she cringed back, eyes stunned and angry.

  “How? When?”

  Even in the moonlight he could see how white she was. He shook his head, not knowing how to explain it to himself, much less to her.

  “Was it her? I know she’s always been crazy for you. Did she provoke it?” There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

  “No, Charity, she didn’t—ever. It was me.”

  He could see the tears welling, and he hated himself for the pain he caused.

  “Why?” she whispered.

>   He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know, Charity, I really don’t. It just happened. I’ve been fighting the feelings for months now, but apparently to no avail.”

  She slumped back against the swing at the sound of his words. She closed her eyes tightly as if to block it all out. When she spoke, her voice was almost calm. “Do you love her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you love me?”

  Her eyes were still closed, and he looked at her, thinking for the thousandth time she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Did he love her? “I don’t know,” he whispered, and he thought he saw her wince.

  “What are you going to do?” she continued.

  “I don’t know.”

  Her eyelids flew open, and she leaned forward, eyes flashing. “Well, then, what the devil do you know, Collin?”

  He blinked. The old Collin had always loved the wild streak in Charity—was that Collin still around or had Faith changed him forever? “I know you’re beautiful, more beautiful than any woman I know.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “I don’t think so.” His voice was quiet.

  Never missing a beat, she laid her hand on his thigh. “Is this?”

  Heat shot through him at her touch, and he caught his breath. “Charity, I need time. I’m confused. This will only make things worse.”

  Her finger slowly circled on his leg. “Worse for Faith … or worse for me?”

  He grabbed her hand and held it behind her as he leaned over her, danger in his tone. “I don’t take to teasing well.”

  “I’m not teasing,” she said, peering from under heavy lashes. Slowly she lay back on the swing, her eyes fluttering closed. He saw the invitation on her face, and a fire raged as he wrestled with his conscience. The blue eyes opened, and she extended her hand. And the look she gave said it was only a matter of time.

  13

  She suspected sleep would punish her by its absence. From the moment she collapsed in the gloom of their room, both tears and prayers had been flowing. And although her exhaustion was complete, her heart was far too heavy to be stolen away by the peacefulness of slumber. It had been hours since she’d left them. She no longer spent what energy she had worrying her parents might find them. It didn’t matter. How could it possibly be any worse than it was now?

  She rolled on her back to stare blankly at the ceiling. He loved her. He said so himself, but for Faith, there was little joy in the declaration. There was such a strong physical attraction between them, she was certain it clouded his thinking, as it had hers. How much clearer could it be that God’s Word was truth when it spoke of “fleeing sexual sin”? For the first time, she could easily see how it could make you say and do things you would later regret. No doubt Collin would regret the words he had spoken to her. If not tonight, certainly tomorrow.

  Faith forced her eyes closed, desperate to shut it all out, but all she could see was Collin’s head bent in prayer. For the moment, it had brought her such joy, and him such peace. Then it had been stolen away, rendered insignificant in what should have been one of the most important nights of his life. No doubt he thought her to be a complete fraud, espousing God and the avoidance of sin when she so readily fell into his arms, returning his passion with her own. The thought of it made her nauseous, a fine complement to the guilt and shame over what she had done to her sister.

  The door creaked open. She froze as Charity crossed the room to her bed. Faith lay completely still as her sister disrobed and hoped Charity would think she was asleep. But her sister knew her all too well, apparently. Tossing her robe on the chair, Charity moved to the side of Faith’s bed, sending a prickle of fear down Faith’s spine. Her eyelids flickered open to see Charity standing over her, eyes candescent with cold rage.

  “What a little hypocrite you are. To think all this time I actually believed you were this pure little Christian, so in love with God, so bent on doing the right thing.” Her tone burned like acid. “But Collin told me how you’ve been chasing after him, teasing him, begging for his attention.”

  Faith jolted up in the dark, her fear fusing to anger. “You’re lying! He never said that.”

  Charity’s lips twisted into a savage smile. “Oh, but he did. He said he’s tried to put you off, but you wouldn’t leave him alone.”

  Faith’s throat constricted, trapping her breath. Fear feathered her skin like spiders.

  Charity laughed. “You can’t accept the fact he loves me, can you, Faith? That it’s me he’s marrying, not you. Tell me, does it eat at you so badly you’re reduced to making pathetic attempts to break us up? Because that’s all it is. Don’t you get it? Collin doesn’t love you. He said he used you, just like he’s used so many girls at Brannigan’s Pub. Just like you said he would use me. Only, he’s not using me, Faith—he wants me for his wife.”

  “No! He … would never say that …”

  “Oh, but he did. I’d let you ask him yourself, only you caused us both so much embarrassment, he feels it’s best if he stays away for a while. We’ll tell Father and Mother we needed time apart, but we’ll still see each other. So you see, your plan didn’t work.”

  Faith shivered at the loathing in her sister’s eyes. “Charity, what did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

  “Why don’t you ask Father? He might have an idea.” Turning on her heel, Charity walked across the room and slipped into bed, leaving the darkness of their room to settle like a shroud.

  “What do you mean Collin won’t be coming over for a while?” Patrick said, glancing up from his newspaper with a frown on his face.

  Marcy halted in the middle of a stitch to stare at Charity, who clutched against the parlor door for support. She immediately put her sewing aside to go to her.

  Charity teared up, then quickly straightened and blinked the wetness away. “Mother, I’m fine, really. Collin and I just decided to take some time apart, that’s all.”

  Patrick leaned forward, the newspaper rustling to his lap. “What’s going on, Charity? Two people in love just don’t decide to take time apart. Did you have a fight?”

  She nodded, and Marcy touched her arm.

  “About what?” Patrick demanded.

  Charity’s eyes were blue ice. “I believe that’s between Collin and me, Father.”

  “Not if it affects the whole household, it isn’t. That boy is as much a part of this family as he is your fiancé. We all have a right to know what’s going on.”

  “Why don’t you ask ‘your girl’?”

  Patrick stood. The color in his face paled.

  Marcy shot him a pleading look and pulled Charity closer. “Patrick, she’s just upset. We all need to remain calm.”

  “You’re both my girls,” he hissed, stomping to the foyer, “although you both don’t act like it.” He bellowed at the bottom of the staircase. “Faith? Come down here—now!”

  Faith appeared on the landing, her shadowed eyes a telling contrast to the pallor of her skin.

  “I need to speak to you, please, in the parlor.” Patrick marched back in, leaving Faith to follow. Her eyes remained downcast as she took a seat across the room. Marcy moved to the sofa while Charity remained at the door.

  “It’s been a week now that you two have been walking around here like death, and I want to know why. First, Collin is sick last Sunday and can’t come over. Now Charity tells me they’ve decided to take some time apart. What’s going on, Faith?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Faith? I want an answer—now!”

  “Why ask me, Father? This is between Charity and Collin.”

  Patrick swore under his breath. “Answer me! Do you know what’s going on?”

  Marcy shook her head. “Patrick, there’s no call for profanity—”

  “Do you?”

  Faith’s gaze met his. “Yes.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “No.”

  Her jaw was set—just like his�
�and Marcy could see the danger in her husband’s face. She jumped up. “Patrick, we’re all upset. Please, can’t we take some time to cool off?”

  He stormed across the room to grab Charity’s arm. “So help me, Charity, one of you will tell me what’s going on.”

  “That would be ‘your girl,’ Father. Why don’t you use your influence with her?”

  The sound of his slap echoed like a clap of thunder.

  “Patrick!” Marcy flew across the room.

  Charity’s hand trembled to her cheek.

  “Charity, I … I’m sorry, darlin’, I lost my temper …” He touched her arm and went white when she flinched. He faltered back. “Charity, I …”

  “May I leave now, Father?” She shivered like a willow in the wind.

  He nodded, and Marcy hovered as she led her from the room.

  Patrick’s shoulders sagged. He staggered to his chair, depleted of energy. He sat on the edge of the seat and buried his face in his hands.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Father, I’m so sorry,” Faith whispered.

  Patrick reached to cup her hand and held it against his shoulder.

  “Me, too, darlin’—sorry two people I love are hurting so much. Sorry I’ve made it worse.”

  “Father, it’s too painful to talk about right now. But we will, I promise. When we’re ready. Until then, will you pray for us, please? All of us?”

  Patrick stood and gripped her in his arms. “Dear God above, I never stop, darlin’,” he whispered. And dear God above … forgive me.

  For Marcy, the blackest day of the year was always Good Friday. More often than not, the weather was foul or overcast, and from childhood, she’d always felt a sense of foreboding on that day in particular. She’d never forgotten the mournful look on her mother’s face when she said Jesus had hung on the cross from noon until three. From that moment on, rain or shine, there were no more insidious hours in the year. She never understood until she was older just why it was called “Good Friday,” for the mood of the day was anything but good.