Free A Passion Most Pure by Julie Lessman

That is, if Mary managed to get the message to him. After tonight, she would simply take it a day at a time.
    Charity entered her room, grinning. She could do that. One day-or one kiss-at a time.
    Marcy knew she was in trouble when Patrick dismissed the children and began to clear the table himself.

    "Father, don't you want me to do that?" Beth asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
    "No, Beth, you and Steven take Katie in the parlor and read to her. I want to talk to your mother."
    Marcy's stomach knotted as she watched her husband silently carry dishes and utensils to the kitchen. Reluctantly she followed, feeling as if she were treading on uncertain ground. Patrick and she seldom argued, and their relationship knew little strain. This was all so new to her-he was not a man of silence. Marcy stood at the door, almost timidly, then entered the kitchen, allowing the door to swing closed behind her. Patrick turned, and her heart thumped. The tenderness that always accompanied his gaze was gone. In its place was a spark of angry fire, the only sign of energy in his weary-looking body.
    "Marcy, am I or am I not the head of this household?" His voice was quiet-too quiet. She nodded.
    "Well, then tell me," he continued in a monotone voice, "why did you break with Charity's punishment without consulting me?"
    "Patrick, I'm sorry, I know we agreed-"
    "Yes, we did. And now my daughter has had it reaffirmed to her once again that all she need do is smile a pretty smile and flutter those lashes, and she can get her way."
    "Patrick, you're being ridiculous."
    "Am I, Marcy? Charity's a very bright girl who knows how to use her wiles to manipulate a situation. She wants control, and we cannot afford to give it to her."
    Marcy's jaw tightened. "Don't you think you're carrying it to the extreme? She's a child of sixteen, not a con artist trying to pull the wool over our eyes."
    Patrick slowly loosened his tie and rubbed his neck, his eyes locked on hers. "We must present a united front, especially where Charity is concerned. We have never wavered from that in the discipline of the children, and we must not start now. We cannot, and will not, waver with Charity. I won't allow it."

    She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks and found she had little control over the hurt and anger that spewed from her lips. "You won't allow it! I've been married to you for over twenty-one years, Patrick O'Connor-don't start dictating to me now how to raise my children." She shivered as she stood there, arms clenched at her waist.
    In several abrupt steps forward, he loomed before her, his eyes intense. He didn't touch her but pressed uncomfortably close, hands fisted at his sides. When it comes to the welfare of my children, Mrs. O'Connor, you will, in the future, consult me regarding your decisions. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
    For a moment her breath wedged in her throat before spilling forth in a rush of angry defiance. "And you, Mr. O'Connor, in the future, can find somewhere else to sleep! Am I making myself perfectly clear?" Her tone was shrill.
    He flinched as if she'd just spat in his face. For a brief moment, hurt flecked in his eyes before giving way to the coldest of steel. She watched in disbelief as he reached for his coat and jerked the door open wide, the wind banging it against the wall.
    "Patrick, wait . . ." she heard herself say, but the door ricocheted and slammed shut on her choked words. Marcy stood dazed, hot tears pooling in her eyes. What just happened? She ran and flung the door open, calling his name, but her words were only met by a bluster of wind. She shivered, the chill of the air as cold as the chill in her heart. Her hands trembled as she slowly closed the door. She moved like a sleepwalker toward the table and sat down. Her heart felt so empty-like her bed would be tonight, she thought. The realization hit her hard, causing a fresh wave of tears.

    Her hands were like ice as she leaned on them to pray. "Forgive me, Lord,