Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
The elderly ladies gave me curious looks when I fled the confessional. I was just glad that Gulliver hadn’t seen me, though one of the old ladies would probably mention something to him.
I needed time to think, even if my own thoughts often frightened me nowadays. I had to come to terms with what was happening, had to figure out a way to stop it. Lorcan was twisting me into someone I hardly recognized. Had this wanton girl always been part of me? Had she lay dormant, waiting for a sinner to awaken her. I choked on a laugh. I was going crazy.
I hurried down into the crypt and kneeled on the cold floor behind a stone sarcophagus. I could still taste Lorcan, still feel him. I closed my eyes. Maybe he was trying to show me how easily I was lured to sin. Maybe he hoped I’d feel better about his sinful ways. But having sex in church and drowning someone in a river were entirely different levels of sin.
Right?
I wasn’t sure what Gulliver’s answer would be to that. He’d probably be more horrified by my confession than Lorcan’s. Soon, the distant murmurs of the congregation faded away. They’d probably moved out to the courtyard where the potluck would take place. I got up, my legs stiff from the cold and I dared to return to the nave.
It was empty except for an old man leaving the confessional. Not sure why and what I could confess, but I headed for the booth and went inside.
“I’m here to collect your sins,” Uncle Gulliver said.
I’d always been honest in the confessional box, never omitted my sins. Until today. I couldn’t tell my uncle that Lorcan had fucked my mouth during his confession, that I’d eagerly sucked him off and gotten off on it. That my panties were still soaked with my lust, that just thinking about it made me cringe with shame and quiver with lust.
“I married a murderer,” I said instead of all the sins I should have confessed.
There was a pause. Gulliver must have recognized my voice, and my confession probably was a pretty obvious clue too. “Love isn’t a sin, and marriage is a holy bond, child.”
“Even if love and marriage are both a lie.”
“Marriage can’t be a lie if it’s agreed upon before God, and love sometimes takes years to build.”
Love. There would never be love between Lorcan and me. Lust. Oh, yes. Plenty of lust. But wasn’t lust a sin too?
“Marriage isn’t easy. It’s not supposed to be. It’s about sacrifice. God tests us that way too. Don’t fail.”
I shook my head. Was this really about God wanting this marriage? Or Gulliver being worried about getting in trouble with Lorcan? I considered telling him about talking to Desmond. But that wasn’t a sin. Or was it because I was doing it behind Lorcan’s back? Because it might lead to me betraying my own husband? I wasn’t sure what the rules were in this case. I supposed Gulliver would amend them to fit Lorcan’s desires.
“Lorcan’s been looking for you. You shouldn’t cause your husband worry.”
Gulliver’s words tore me from my thoughts. He seemed eager to get me out of the confessional box. Maybe he was worried what secrets I might reveal. “Of course not,” I said. “Thank you for listening to my sins.”
I got up, not waiting for another word from Gulliver.
Seamus was waiting in front of the booth when I left and he escorted me outside toward the courtyard where someone had already placed my food on the table. Lorcan stood beside it and was chatting with a group of men who were digging into my cottage pie. I went over to them with a forced smile. Soon, more people hovered in front of my table, eating my food and praising it. Nobody seemed to have noticed the embarrassing episode in the confessional box. Lorcan, of course, kept giving me barely veiled hungry looks that made my neck flush with heat and my blood pulse with rage.
“You should open a restaurant, my dear,” one of the older ladies said.
“She should,” Lorcan agreed.
“It’s actually always been my dream to open up an Irish restaurant with classics but also modern interpretations.”
I flushed when Lorcan regarded me curiously. I always felt silly when I talked about it.
“The Plough Pub needs a new owner. We need good food from home in our community. The last cottage pie I ate was a disgrace,” another older woman said.
“We’ll see what we can do,” Lorcan said.
I wondered if he was being serious. Would he really help me open a restaurant?
And what the hell was I thinking?
I considered working with the police, betraying my husband, and running from him as soon as possible. I didn’t have a future in New York. Definitely not as a restaurant owner through Lorcan’s charity.