The Virgin
“Søren, no.”
He looked down at her as if he couldn’t understand what it was that had grabbed his leg.
“Eleanor, let go. I have to make a phone call.”
“Don’t call him. Calm down. Getting married isn’t going to make this go away.”
“I’m perfectly calm. This will give me peace of mind, which is more than I have now. I thought I could trust you with Kingsley. That was my mistake. It won’t happen again.”
He started off down the hall and Elle fought her exhaustion and pain to get to her feet. But she did stand and she stood up straight. She followed Søren down the hall to his bedroom. He’d already picked up the phone. She slapped her hand down on the receiver to hang up the call.
“I’m not marrying you,” Elle said. “So don’t even bother calling anyone.”
“I’ve made my decision.”
“It’s not your decision to make. Marriage takes two people. I said no.”
“You’re exhausted, you’re ill and you’ve been through something traumatic. You’re not thinking clearly right now.”
“I’m not the one out of my damn mind right now. I am not going to marry you. No. Not now. Not ever. You are a Catholic priest. You can’t get married.”
“I’ll leave the priesthood.”
“You will do no such thing,” she said, standing as straight as she could despite the pain in her stomach and back. “God and I made a deal a long time ago. If He’d let us be together, I would never take you from the Church. I plan on keeping that promise.”
“And I’ll keep mine. I promised I would do anything to protect you. I will.”
“I don’t need protection. I don’t need to get married.”
“What you want is immaterial in this matter. Go to bed. I will handle this.”
“Immaterial? Have you forgotten I am a twenty-six-year-old adult woman and not a child? You do not get to decide what I do.”
“Of course I do. I own you.”
“You own me. That’s fine when we’re in bed. That’s fine when I’ve got my collar on. It’s not fine when you’re telling me I have to marry someone I don’t want to marry.”
“You promised you would obey me forever. Did you not make me that promise?”
“When I was fifteen. Do you think I’m still fifteen?”
“You’re certainly acting like it.”
“I promised God I would never take you from the Church. That’s a deal He and I made when I was seventeen.”
“I think I know what God wants for my life more than you do,” he said.
“And I know what God wants for my life better than you do.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Oh, you arrogant prick,” she said. “You might be a priest but that doesn’t mean you know more about me and God than I do. I have my own faith. It’s mine and not yours.” And here she broke into furious tears that she just as furiously wiped from her face. “And you can’t take it away from me. I won’t let you.”
Søren ignored her and picked up the phone again. Once more Eleanor slammed her hand down to cut off the call.
“Eleanor, I will handcuff you to the bed if I have to,” he said.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on me when you’re like this,” she said, pointing at the center of his chest. “You are out of control.”
“I have never been more in control. You are the one being irrational and emotional.”
“I had an abortion, which means not only did I break Kingsley’s heart, I’m also excommunicated. I’m allowed to be emotional right now. But there is nothing irrational about me not wanting to marry you. That might be the most rational decision I’ve ever made. You are a Catholic priest who loves being a priest. You are called to the priesthood. If you’ve told me once, you have told me a thousand times how happy being a priest makes you. You will be miserable if you leave the church. I know you. Being married to me will not make you happier than being a priest does. It’s your calling. Marrying me is not your calling.”
“My happiness is also immaterial to this discussion.”
“Not to me, it isn’t. I will not let you resent me for the rest of our lives together, because I let you do something in a fit of madness that can’t be undone. I will leave you before I let you throw your happiness away on some misguided attempt to make an honest woman out of me. Søren—that ship has sailed.”
He met her eyes and looked down into her face. He was a wall, a granite wall, concrete and steel-reinforced.
“I have made my decision,” he said as coldly as he’d ever said anything to her.
Eleanor bent down and unzipped her duffel bag. From it she pulled out the riding crop Kingsley had given her. She took it by the handle, and when Søren reached for the phone again she slapped it hard against the table.
“I topped Kingsley while you were gone,” she said in answer to the look of confusion he gave her.
“You did what?”
“I topped Kingsley while you were gone,” she repeated. “Several times. I hurt him. I beat him, cut him, burned him and fucked him up the ass with a strap-on. And I loved it.”
“You loved it.”
“I loved it. I loved every second of it. I was scared at first. But once I started, I couldn’t stop. The more I hurt him, the more I wanted to hurt him. He bought me this riding crop as a gift, and I used it on him.”