A Passion Redeemed (55 page)

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Authors: Julie Lessman

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Historical, #General, #Religious

BOOK: A Passion Redeemed
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They rode in silence until the car slowed to a stop. He pulled the lever back and turned the engine off. His voice was gruff. "Come here." The front seat creaked as he pulled her close.

Charity held her breath, her mouth dry as dust. Soft breathing and the press of the springs were the only sounds she could hear. Her stomach twisted into painful knots.

"Mitch ... I need to go in and you need to go home."

He sighed and opened his door, getting out and jolting it closed. He opened Kathleen's and helped her from the car, muttering something Charity couldn't hear. The door slammed, and their footsteps faded.

Charity's breathing was ragged as she fumbled for her purse. She bit her lip and fished out a bottle of lilac water to dab on her throat. A surge of guilt heated her cheeks and she shivered, glancing up at the sky. "This is not seduction, Lord, I promise. Just pure common sense. I need all his senses in play when he makes his final decision."

She pushed the bottle back in her purse and returned to the floorboards, her muscles quivering. She squeezed her eyes shut and started to pray. All at once, Kathleen's sweet face came to mind, and Charity's stomach churned. Her hand flew to her mouth to compress a queasy burp. She opened her eyes to dispel the image, but it burned in her sight nonetheless. Sweet and loving Kathleen-she loved Mitch too. A low groan issued forth from Charity's throat, her regret as painful as her guilt. "Oh, Kathleen, I'm sorry please forgive me! But I love him too, and I don't know what else to do ..." Her words fused to her lips at the sound of his footsteps. She closed her eyes and prayed.

Mitch lumbered down the steps and rubbed the side of his head. He felt a headache coming on. He rounded the car to grind the crank with more force than needed. The growl of the engine matched that of his mood. He got in and heaved the door closed with a grunt, then shifted the car into gear and headed home.

He'd needed Kathleen ... tonight, more than ever. The touch of her lips, the heat of her body, anything to take his mind off Charity. Seeing her last night had stabbed him through the heart, undoing months of healing with a single glance. He drew in a deep breath and sagged over the wheel as he drove. Five minutes in her presence, and now even the air carried her scent.

Why was he doing this? Pushing her away?

Trust. It had been the issue in the beginning and the issue in the end. But she had changed, so she said. Given her heart to God. Then why was he marrying Kathleen?

He sighed. Because he'd hurt Kathleen more than once. He wouldn't do it again. He'd given his word, in the form of a ring, and in his mind, there was no turning back. He thought of all the reasons Charity was wrong for him. Fourteen years younger, as stubborn as he, and an affinity for deception that would boggle the mind. He needed more. A stable woman with a compliant heart. And lips that warmed his without the burn of a lie.

Not a woman who could only heat his blood as well as his temper.

He coasted to a stop in front of his apartment and disengaged the drive gears with a weary thrust. The engine sputtered to a slow death. Like his hope. He would marry Kathleen.

He glanced at Mrs. Lynch's lit window, then exhaled and leaned back against the seat, reluctant to chance a repeat encounter. He slammed his fist against the door and groaned. "Why, God?"

"Let me know if you get an answer. I haven't heard a peep."

Mitch jerked around, bumping his head on the roof. He put a hand to his head and swore.

"I thought you gave that up," she said, climbing over the back of the seat. She plopped into the passenger side as casually as if she'd been there all night, giving him a sweet smile. Two perfectly manicured brows wiggled in a playful tease. "Alone at last."

He stared, unable to compose a coherent thought, never mind a coherent sentence. There she sat, the haunt of his dreams, mere inches away, and in full flesh and blood. His gaze traveled from the hypnotic eyes to the full lips, quickening his pulse with a nervous sweep of her tongue. She studied him through shy eyes while she fidgeted with her nails. Her lips suddenly twitched with a near smile. "You don't do well with the element of surprise, do you, Mitch?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk."

"Yeah, right." He hissed under his breath and jerked the handle of the door, kicking it open with an angry thud. He leapt out and hurtled the crank, then jumped back in and gunned the car from the curve. "Never in my unfortunate life have I ever met a woman like you. I swear, you will drive some poor slob right over the edge."

"Actually, Mitch, I was hoping that would be you."

He squealed around a corner on two wheels, burning the air. "Not on your life, little girl. I'm too old, remember? My heart couldn't take it."

She crossed her arms. "You might as well park the car. We are going to talk."

He gave her a sideways glance. "No, Charity, we're not. I'm taking you home."

"No! We're going to talk this out, Mitch Dennehy, or die trying." She grabbed his arm, forcing the car to swerve.

He slammed on the brakes and jounced the advance lever up. The vehicle skidded to a screeching stop as he whirled in the seat. "Get out. You can walk from here." He couldn't risk talking to her, not for one blinkin' minute. He wanted her out of his life. Gone.

She stared in disbelief, the fire in her eyes burning away any good intent. He wouldn't even hear her out? Give her five minutes of his time? After all they'd been to each other? She groaned and pounced, pummeling his arm as hard as she could. "You can go to the devil, Mitch Dennehy, for all I care, but first we're going to talk."

He shoved her back on the seat. "Get out of my car, now."

She propped up on her elbows, her jaw quivering with anger. "Make me."

He lunged to open her door, and she battered his chest as tears blurred her eyes. He deflected her blows, forcing her wrists to the seat. A choked sob broke from her lips, and the anger faded from his face.

And then she saw it. Pain, regret, longing. Her conscience stilled and her pulse quickened. As if against her will, her own longing took control. He wanted her-still. He loved her!

He loosed his hold and backed away. His tone was pleading. "Charity, please do us both a favor and go home."

Hope surged and she grabbed his shirt, wrenching him close until their lips met. He moaned and finished the job, devouring her mouth with his own. She pressed in, clutching him with all her might. "You love me, I knew it!"

He launched back to his side of the car, his breathing out of control. "So help me, I will hurt you if you come at me again."

She sat up with fire in her eyes. "You've already ripped out my heart, Mitch, what more can you do?"

He stared at her and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand.

She returned his petulant gaze. "I'm the woman you should be marrying, why can't you just admit it?"

His tone hardened. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm marrying Kathleen. Stay away from me."

She crossed her arms. "Stay away? At the theater, you said 'don't be a stranger.'"

He glared. "It's a bloomin' figure of speech, code for 'stay out of my life'!"

Her chin jutted up. "Well, I can't. I've tried, and yes, I've prayed about it too. I know it deep down in my bones, Mitchwe belong together." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "After that week in Boston, when my family thought we were married, I felt as if we were. Tell me you didn't feel it too."

He ground his teeth. "I don't feel anything but profound frustration and anger, two things that seem to go hand-inhand with you."

"You're lying. I know you still think about me. . . our engagement, our kisses-"

He swore under his breath and started the car, veering away from the curb. "You're the one who's lying, Charity, again. It's a pattern with you. You lied and ruined my life two years ago, lied to win my heart, and then lied to become my wife. Now you tell me you've turned over a new leaf, given yourself to God." He shot her a hard look, raking her with his eyes. "Then you have the gall to sneak into my car and try and seduce me-"

"No! I didn't come to seduce you, I swear! I came to talk, and that's the truth."

He gunned down Ambrose Lane and squealed to a stop, keeping the engine running. He gave her a cold stare. "The truth. As if you have any earthly idea what that even is. Lies or truth, it's all the same to you, isn't it, Charity? As long as you get what you want."

Fear thickened in her mouth and she put a hand to her throat. "No, Mitch. Maybe before, but I've changed, I promise. My faith in God has changed me."

"Yeah, I see how you've changed. Hiding in my car, lying in wait like some tart ready to throw yourself at me, with no regard for my fiancee, me, or God. Your so-called faith is nothing more than stubble and chaff. Always has been, little girl. Psalm 83. Read it sometime."

Her voice shook. "Please, just one more chance, Mitch. You have to believe me."

"Sorry. Lying seems to be a fatal flaw in your personality. Get out."

She blinked, anger fueling her desperation. She lifted her chin. "Well, I may be a liar and a tart, but you're a liar and a fake. Lying to yourself that you'll ever be happy with Kathleen, pretending you love her when I'll wager it's me in your thoughts at night."

Her words barbed him with the truth, and heat stung the back of his neck.

She appeared to sense their effect and moved closer, gently touching his arm. Her face seemed so innocent in the lamplight, her eyes so wide with hope. "You love me and want me, Mitch, I know it. That's why you're really angry, isn't it?"

Heat engulfed him. He wanted to push her away, but he was afraid to touch her, afraid he'd give in. To the feel of her skin, the curve of her body, the taste of her lips.

God, help me.

He thought of Kathleen, and anger swept through him like a cleansing fire, burning away the lust from his soul. He stared at the woman before him and knew what he had to do. His heart was bleeding, but he had no choice. She would never let go, never let him be. Always gauging love by her standard of lust rather than God's measure of obedience. He longed to hold her and teach her, but she would never receive. His heart squeezed in his chest. Hers was a lesson only pain would impart.

He switched the ignition off and turned in the seat, hand gripped to the steering wheel and his jaw hardened for battle.

She lifted her face to his. Longing shimmered in her eyes. "Marry me, Mitch. I love you and I know you love me. We belong together."

Tension quivered his cheek, but his will was as steady and unyielding as the steel beneath his hand. His voice was cold and calm. "No, Charity, it's over. Your lies have destroyed any chance we may have had. I don't want to hurt you, truly I don't. But you need to understand that any love I felt has been damaged beyond hope. I'm in love with Kathleen now."

Even in the dark, he could see the color drain from her face. Her lips trembled open and tears welled in her eyes. She touched a quivering hand to his arm. "You can't mean that. You love me and you want me. I saw it in your eyes and felt it in your kiss."

He was not a man prone to reining in his emotions. A lifetime of explosive temper and unbridled passions had marked him as such. But he knew if change were to come, the moment would be now, when his life-and Charity's-hung in the balance. From the moment he'd met her, she had read him so easily, his reaction to her, his attraction. And she had used it against him time after time, measuring his love by the desire she provoked.

He had no choice but to end it all now. And so, in his mind's eye, he shut her out with a veneer of indifference so cold that he felt her shiver. His face was a mask of iron and his will a wall she would never scale. Slowly, deliberately, he removed her hand from his arm. "Love you?" His smile was not kind. "As always, you're confusing love with lust. You know, all take and no give? All heat and no heart? And, yes, I suppose in the past I have lusted after you, or at least my body has. But not anymore."

"No! I felt it! You love me!"

He raked her with a cool gaze. "Not love, Charity, lust ... as surely as if you had peddled your charms on Mountgomery Street."

The breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes bled tears as she clutched at her sides. "Why are you doing this?"

"To make you understand once and for all, little girl-the price of your 'love' is more than I'm willing to pay."

She flinched as if he had slapped her. She shrank back, shock and fury glistening in her eyes. "You snake, how dare you treat me like this, no better than a common-"

He arched a brow while his lips clamped into a hard smile. "Whore?"

She caught her breath, the force of the word pressing her hard against the door. Wetness pooled in her eyes and began to spill, slicing through his heart.

He forced himself to go on. "I told you once that what you sell, only the wrong men would buy. You came here tonight to sell your body for my love. But you've sold your soul instead. Sorry, I need a wife with both." He leaned and slammed a fist hard against her door handle. She cowered against the seat as the door wheeled open. "Go home, little girl, and leave me alone."

She shuddered and wiped her face with her sleeve, avoiding his eyes. "My purse ... it's in the back."

He reached over to fist it in his hands and flung it in her lap.

The set of her jaw was hard and cold, chiseled in ice. "I despise you," she whispered.

Her words burned like acid. "Good. Let's keep it that way."

She clutched her purse and struggled with the door, her fingers shaking. She swung out from the car and managed to stand, teetering the slightest bit. He saw her shoulders straighten as she engaged that familiar lift of her head. Without a backward glance, she left the door wide open and moved to the porch, her back as rigid as the nerves in his neck.

In a ragged beat of his heart, she slipped inside, leaving him alone with a gloom in his soul darker than anything he'd ever known. He touched his hand to the ignition, then collapsed on the wheel, putting his hand to his eyes.

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