A Passion Most Pure (50 page)

She stared at his hands locked over hers, and drew in a shaky breath. "I want to, Mitch, but I'm scared."

He lifted her hand and kissed it, his eyes earnest. "I know, Faith. Me too. Scared to death that I'm going to lose you."

She looked up then. "Trust is such a fragile thing. I didn't realize that before. Mine for you was so strong, so invincible. But now. . ."

He gripped her close, his voice steeped in remorse. "As God as my witness, I will never hurt you like that again, I swear. Please, Faith, trust me ... just one more time."

She pulled away and looked at the ring in her hand. Her eyes welled with water, and a single tear trailed her cheek as she slowly slipped it on her finger. "I forgive you, Mitch," she whispered, "but I need you to forgive me too."

He lifted her chin with his finger. "Why would I need to forgive you?"

She sniffed. "The way I treated you when I left, how I treated everyone ..."

He rested his face against her hair. "I won't lie to you, Faith, it hurt. You all but cut my heart out by leaving like you did." He pulled back and lifted her face with his hands. "But I deserved it. I love you so much, Faith, and yet, I let a moment of lust sever what we had. I don't know which has been more painful-knowing the pain I caused or you leaving."

She sighed and dropped back on the couch, her hand extended as she gazed at the ring on her finger. "I was pretty angry when I left," she mused. "I went to a place I've never been before, so much hurt and hate inside, I thought I would die. I wanted to cause you as much pain as you caused me."

"Good job," he said, his tone droll. He became solemn as he took her hand in his. "I was so wrong in what I did. Although I never planned it or sought it out, it happened, and I can't pretend in any way I was innocent." He sighed and rested against the back of the couch, one hand in hers as he rubbed his eyes with the other. "I'd suspected for some time that Charity ... well, that she was attracted to me, but I thought it was harmless enough." He ducked his head in shame. "I never dreamed it would come to that. She was so distraught, and I was only trying to comfort her ..."

Faith couldn't resist a thin smile. "Pretty intense comfort," she whispered. It was the first time she ever saw him blush scarlet.

"I know. It's just that, well, it'd been so long ..

It was Faith's turn to blush. She lifted her chin. "A condition I hope to correct soon enough."

He glanced at her with a sharp intake of breath. "When?" he whispered.

"As soon as Mother and I settle things here. I don't want to wait any longer."

"Me either," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "I'm lonely for my wife."

Faith gently kissed him, the warmth returning in a rush. He returned her kiss with a heated one of his own before nudging her away. He stood up.

"It's late and we better get you to bed," he said. A grin creased his lips. "There are limits to my willpower, you know."

She rose to her feet with mischief in her eyes. "Thank goodness," she exclaimed. "A little help in the restraint department-I like that."

"Don't get used to it," he teased. "It's definitely shortterm. I'm just biding my time until the gold band's in place. When it is, there'll be no mercy."

Faith's eyes twinkled as she gave him a smirk. "Likewise," she said.

Mitch didn't want it to end. His two weeks in Boston were dwindling fast, and the thought of returning to Ireland without her chilled him to the bone like an icy gust on a winter day. Their home was on the market, but there was no telling how long it would take to sell, and Faith insisted Marcy return with Mitch while she herself put their life in Boston to rest.

It helped having him there, he knew, because both Marcy and Faith repeatedly told him so, and he could see the relief in their eyes when he made them laugh. Somehow, with him there, they didn't seem to notice the pain as much when they spoke of Patrick, which they did often throughout the course of their many conversations. Mitch bitterly regretted never having met him, this man so loved by the women who had profoundly affected his own life. It was, perhaps, the greatest regret he had during the time he spent with them in their mourning.

The days flew by, as he'd known they would, and there was a degree of guilt over enjoying it so while they were engulfed in their grief. But the moments of laughter had been frequent enough, what with Mrs. Gerson's visits, and those of Maisie and Briana. Mitch smiled now as he thought of the shocked look on Maisie's face when she had met him.

"Oh, my goodness," she had cried, the spray of freckles becoming more noticeable as her face paled. "It's just not fair! He's gorgeous!"

Mitch laughed, embarrassed at her candor, while Faith took possession of his arm. "Back off, Tanner, he's spoken for."

Maisie rolled her eyes. "Mmm, they're all spoken for when it comes to you," she teased, and Mitch's eyebrow angled in question.

"Oh, really?" he said with a smile, shards of jealousy prickling his tone.

"I don't know what she's talking about," Faith said with a grin, and Mitch doubted it.

The evenings had been filled with wonderful meals, sometimes at Mrs. Gerson's, sometimes at Marcy's, but always served up with lots of conversation and laughter. The days were spent running errands and helping Marcy pack while Faith was at work.

And then the day he'd dreaded finally arrived. Tomorrow they would leave for Ireland-he and Marcy-and the thought of leaving Faith behind rolled his gut like a bout with the flu. She had, at least, agreed to take the day off so they could be together, but it was small consolation for the agony he felt.

She came down for breakfast, her eyes tired and a bit sunken, and he suspected she hadn't slept any more than he had. "Good morning," she said, obviously attempting to sound as bright as she could. She gave her mother a peck on the cheek as Marcy and Mitch sat at the kitchen table with their coffee. Standing behind him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. "Good morning, Mr. Dennehy," she whispered. She turned and walked to the counter in search of coffee.

He looked up, his eyes tender. "Did you get any sleep?"

She scrunched her shoulders and poured herself a cup. "Sleep," she announced, "is not foremost on my mind right now."

He smiled. "Yeah, I didn't either."

"How about you, Mother?" Faith asked as she sat with them at the table.

Marcy sighed. "Oh, well enough, I suppose. But I wish we were all back in Ireland."

Faith reached to put her hand over her mother's. "We'll all be there before you know it. And now that the war is almost over, Sean will be home too, and hopefully he'll decide to stay with us in Ireland. We'll finally be together again."

Mitch could see the tears welling in Marcy's eyes and quickly sought a diversion. "Faith, what's the scuttlebutt at the Herald regarding the armistice?" He leaned back in his chair while he sipped his coffee.

"Well, everybody's been pretty much holding their breath since early October when the Germans and Austrians contacted President Wilson about an armistice. But nobody trusts them, of course, and you'll find as many that don't think the war's over as those who do. But honestly, Mitch, I can feel it in my bones. It's coming. By the grace of God, the armistice is coming, and we'll finally be able to get on with our lives." Faith stirred the cream in her cup. "I wonder how Mima's doing?" she said, changing the subject.

Marcy looked up in surprise, a look of apology on her face. "Oh my goodness," she cried, "I can't believe I forgot to tell you! I just received a letter from Mother yesterday. She must have written it right after we left, and Christa just received it." She jumped up to retrieve it from the counter and handed it to Faith, who laid it on the table and smoothed out the folded sheets.

"Sean and Collin are both doing fine and quite anxious to come home, I understand. Mother told them our plans to relocate to Ireland, so I suppose both of them will head there first. At least, I certainly hope Collin will. I know Sean will, of course, but there's no telling what's going to happen with Collin and Charity." Her tone was worried once again.

Mitch stiffened at the mention of Collin's name. He glanced at Faith. The mere utterance of his name had affected her as well, sending a faint blush into her cheeks. He frowned.

"Mother, they do know about.. ." Faith couldn't go on, and Marcy nodded, rising to refill her coffee. She kept her back to them.

"Yes, of course, dear. Charity notified them the first week." She returned to the table, her eyes moist as she poured them another cup, then managed a shaky smile as she put the pot back on the stove. "Well, I've got a few more things to pack. You two better get going and enjoy your day." She headed toward the door.

Faith looked up, concern creasing her brow. "Mother, why don't you come with us? It'll do you good, and I won't have to worry about you being here alone."

"Nonsense," she said. "You two need some time together, and so do I. I want to be-no, I need to be here-alone." She turned and left the room too quickly.

Faith sighed. "I suppose she's right. But I can't help but ache for her."

"I ache for all of us," he said quietly.

"I can't believe it! Look, we've gone and gotten you all gloomy too. That's got to change. All I need to do is grab my jacket and we can be off. Are you ready?"

He didn't blink as he stared hard at the table, his jaw angled tight. Faith bent to smile into his eyes. "Hey, Dennehy ... what's wrong? In a few short weeks, I'll be back in your life, the same old thorn in your side."

He looked up but didn't smile. "Where does Collin stand?"

Her eyelids flickered. "I don't know. You'll have to ask Charity."

"I'm asking you," he whispered.

Her face went pale, and she sat down, avoiding his eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked, and he was pretty sure she knew exactly what he meant.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" He could barely form the words. His stomach curled into a knot when he heard her catch her breath. She took too long to answer, and Mitch stood up, looming over her as she sat at the table, her eyes fixed on the cup in her hands.

Without notice, he reached to yank her up, gripping her in his arms. Her coffee teetered and sloshed in the saucer from the force of his action. His eyes burned into hers. "I don't care if you do," he breathed. "You belong to me, not him. I hope and pray he marries that sister of yoursBoston can have 'em!" His tone was harsh.

She touched his cheek. "Mitch, please don't worry," she whispered. "The ring on my finger belongs to you, and so do I."

He stared for a long moment, then crushed her tightly against his chest, his face buried in her hair. Suddenly, he hefted her high in his arms until her feet dangled in the air. Bent on staking his claim, he kissed her soundly before finally setting her down with a thud.

She jumped back, eyes and mouth rounded in surprise. "What was that for?"

"That's for even thinking of him," he muttered as he carried their coffee cups to the sink. He walked to the door and held it for her, his eyes menacing. "Don't do it again," he ordered and followed her out the door.

It was fun showing Mitch this city she loved, but melancholy at the same time. She showed him Boston Harbor, site of the famous Boston Tea Party where a band of angry patriots had disguised themselves as Indians to dump English tea into the harbor. They masterminded one of the most important events leading up to the American Revolution, she explained. Mitch seemed completely absorbed, both with the history lesson and with her.

"I like the way you Americans think," he teased with a note of respect, as only an Irishman could. They walked along the wharf, hand in hand, while she pointed out sights, both historical and personal. From Paul Revere's house to the Bunker Hill Monument, she worked at being the perfect tour guide, and she hated for the day to end.

The sun was sinking fast into the dusky skyline when Mitch glanced at his watch. "Your mother said dinner is at six; we better head back." His tone was laced with disappointment.

She nodded, and he put his arm around her and hailed a taxi. Only one more night, she thought solemnly when the taxi pulled up in front of her house. Mitch helped her out of the cab before turning to pay the driver. It was dark now, and Faith tugged her jacket tighter to ward off the chill from the air-or maybe from the thought that tomorrow he'd be gone. Either way, she still had tonight, and she clutched his arm tightly as they climbed the steps. Mitch opened the door, and she stepped inside.

"Mother, we're home!" she cried.

"In the kitchen," Marcy called.

Mitch sniffed the air while helping Faith with her jacket. "Boy, am I starved."

"You're always starved," she teased and grabbed his hand to pull him into the kitchen.

Marcy seemed relaxed working at the sink, rinsing the vegetables she was preparing. She had the fire crackling, and the kitchen was warm and cozy, filled with the aroma of fresh-baked apple cobbler.

"Mother, we're famished, and it smells so wonderful!" Faith made a beeline for Marcy and wrapped her arms around her from behind.

Marcy laughed and turned, her hand stroking Faith's ruddy cheek. "Goodness, you're like ice!" she exclaimed and then grinned. "But I think I've got something that will warm you up." Stretching her hand, she directed Faith's gaze across the room.

Faith turned, and the blood in her face coursed to her toes like a thundering waterfall. There stood Collin McGuire casually leaning against the counter as he had so often done, legs crossed and stretched out before him. But this time he wore a uniform as he relaxed, arms folded across his chest. His body was leaner and harder, his handsome face tan and weathered. But the gray eyes were as mesmerizing as ever. And as soon as they saw her face, the deadly smile went to work.

"Hello, Faith," he drawled. He stood up slowly. A twinkle lit his eyes. "You can breathe now."

"Collin. . ." Her voice drifted out on a soft gasp, and her tongue felt pasted to the roof of her mouth.

Collin walked over to Mitch, who stood beside her with shock glazing his eyes. Collin extended his hand and smiled sheepishly. "You must be Mitch. Congratulations on snagging this one. She'll give you a run for your money, but you won't be sorry."