Mortal Sin (49 page)

“Absolutely certain. In spite of my status as a boil on the arse of the Church, God and I have come to an understanding. I hadn’t realized how constricted my life had become until I took off the collar and walked out the door a free man. Free to be who I really am, free to live up to my potential.” He paused. “Free to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

She fought back tears. “You know what a lousy risk I am, sugar. I’ve been divorced three times. I’m not sure I have what it takes to get it right.”

“I don’t give a damn how many husbands you’ve had before me, because I’ll be your last. That’s all that matters.”

With unerring precision, his words arrowed swiftly and directly into their intended target. Releasing a pent-up breath, she gave in to the truth her heart already knew. He’d been hers from the first moment they set eyes on each other. It had just taken him some time to work it out in his own mind, some time to get to the place where he could accept the curveball destiny had thrown him.

With slow deliberation, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him, pressed her cheek against his and breathed in his essence: warmth and solidity, strength and honor. Bay rum and altar candles. It was an impossibility, but the scent clung to him, emanated from his pores. Or maybe it was just inside her head, a scent she would associate with him for the rest of her life.

He embraced her, closing the circle, and drew her close. “Don’t cry,” he said into her hair. “Sarah, darling, please don’t cry.”

“I’ve shed enough unhappy tears over you to fill Lake Ponchartrain.” Her voice sounded unfamiliar, like coarse-grade sandpaper. “These are happy tears. Let me have my little luxury.”

His fingers tangled in her hair. “The adjustment won’t be easy,” he said. “There’ll be talk. A priest leaving the Church to get married. A lot of people won’t understand.”

“I understand. You understand.” She raised her face, met his eyes, forgot to breathe as his breath gusted warm and sweet against her face. “To hell with everybody else.”

With his thumb, he wiped a tear from her cheek. “I also happen to be unemployed. I may have to go back to school for a while. I suspect my Master of Divinity degree won’t be terribly useful in the job market.”

“You’ll find something. There’s nothing you can’t do. And I’ll support you until you’re on your feet.”

“It’s a lovely offer, but I’m not sure how I feel about being a kept man.”

“Don’t worry. If I think you’re getting too used to it, I’ll just put a For Sale sign on that gas-guzzler sitting out in the driveway. That should motivate you to find gainful employment.”

He took her face between his hands and stepped closer. “You really know how to hurt a man,” he said, and crushed his mouth to hers.

It wasn’t possible that she’d forgotten how it felt to kiss him, forgotten how his mouth left her breathless and aching and raw. It wasn’t possible that she’d forgotten this terrifying, intoxicating tangle of tenderness and bone-deep sexual longing that reached inside her and wrapped clutching fingers around her heart. Like the scent of altar candles that clung to him despite every shred of common sense in her telling her it couldn’t, forgetting these things was an impossibility.

His mouth reminded her. She combed fingers through what was left of his hair and lost herself in him. His body pressed hard against hers with aching familiarity, evoking poignant memories of humid summer nights spent tangled in the sheets with a man she wasn’t allowed to love. She’d loved him anyway, and for that sin, she’d paid with seven long, torturous months of solitude. Momma used to say that anything worth having was worth suffering over. Maybe loving him wasn’t supposed to be easy. Maybe it was the pain of getting to the goal that made the prize all the sweeter.

A fresh assault of urban hip-hop tumbled them both back to hard reality. With a sigh, he broke the kiss. She pressed her face against his throat and murmured, “What on God’s green earth is that caterwauling?”

“It’s my fault. I brought Jamal with me.”

She opened her eyes, drew back, and looked at him in astonishment. “You brought Jamal to New Orleans?”

He tugged her back against him. “I did. And if I can work it out somehow, I’m going to bring him to live with us. That is, unless you have some objection. He’s a great kid, he just needs a break. I’d like to give it to him.”

She studied him keenly. “Gotten attached to the boy, have you, Father?”

“I—” he paused, looked embarrassed “—I suppose I have.”

“Don’t worry, sugar. I won’t reveal your secret.”

“I think the attachment’s mutual. On the other hand, it could just be my car.”

“It’s your charm. Nobody can resist it. That, and your slightly twisted sense of humor.” She paused, sobered. “It’s a big responsibility, and I have Kit to think about. I’ll have to give it some thought before I can say for sure.”

“Fair enough. But there’s one thing I won’t back down on. We have to get married as soon as it’s allowed. There’s no way I’m going to be able to stay away from you, and there is the little matter of that agreement I made with God. I’m not crazy enough to push it. I’ve been given a second chance. This time, I intend to do it right.”

She lay her palm against his face, that beautiful face she would wake up to every morning for the rest of her life. Against her chest, his heart beat strong and steady. She’d thought she knew about love, but what she knew was nothing until Clancy Donovan walked into her life and made her love him in spite of all the reasons she mustn’t. Call it destiny, call it fate, call it the hand of God. She didn’t know which, and she didn’t really care. All she knew was that she’d been given another chance. And this time, she intended to do it right.

She cupped his face, drew his mouth down to hers and kissed him with exquisite tenderness. “Today, tomorrow, yesterday,” she said. “New Orleans or Boston or the moon. I don’t care which, sugar, as long as you show up. You pick the time and the place, and I’ll be there.”