Page 40 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Wait …” Molly squinted up at him. “You broke off the engagement? Everything I read online said she did.”

He gave a slow nod as he retrieved his own steaming mug from the Keurig, finally settling into his chair with a quick sip of his coffee. “That’s right, because that’s how I wanted it. I wasn’t about to let that bloomin’ witch destroy Lana’s career too, so I asked Lana to tell the press she broke the engagement off, even though that was the last thing she wanted to do.”

He winced as he took another sip. “She wanted a temporary break, but Lana deserves so much better than me. She’s a great lass and we had a lot of fun, but after being together for over a year, I know now that my heart was never truly in it.” He raised his cup in a mock toast. “But agents are nothing if not persuasive, and both of ours pushed for it as a career boost, so there you have it.” His mouth slid sideways. “Hardly a marriage made in heaven.”

Molly wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry, Brec.”

He sloughed it off. “Don’t be, Molly, because I’m not.” He watched her over the rim of his cup as he took another drink, gaze tender. “This is where I’m supposed to be for the time being, so as much as I hate Alexandria right now, she rather did me a favor, it seems.”

“Uh, speaking of favors …” Molly shifted uncomfortably in the chair, fiddling with her mug as she spun it slowly around.

One arm crossed leisurely on the table, he leaned in with his mug casually aloft in the other, his pose suddenly as relaxed as his smile. “Anything, Princess, up to half my kingdom.”

She peeked up with cautious eyes, well aware she could upset the delicate balance of an already tentative relationship, but she had to try. Miss Lilly would want her to.

And so did she.

Sucking in a deep draw of air for courage, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze with a direct one of her own. “I’m asking you to pray for Alexandria.”

A harsh grunt escaped as he took a hefty swig of his coffee. “Oh, I am, lass, trust me. That the devil takes her home where she belongs, and the sooner the better.”

Molly scraped her bottom lip with her teeth. “Uh … no, that’s not exactly what I meant.” Gripping her mug tightly, she braced herself for a volatile response. “We’re supposed to ‘love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who mistreat us.’”

His mouth swagged low. “Are you bloomin’ crazy? What eejit said that?”

She tipped her head with brows arched. “Uh, Jesus?”

A nerve flickered in his cheek as he leaned in with a hint of that temper he’d learned to keep under wraps, palms pressed to the table. “Well, I don’t care. Jesus ought to be tickled pink I’m just thinkin’ about wringin’ the witch’s neck instead of actually doin’ it.” He rammed a blunt thumb against his chest as he almost spit the words out. “She doesn’t deserve my prayers.”

“No. No, she doesn’t,” Molly said with a slow nod. She paused for effect as she twiddled her mug, sympathy sloping her brows in his favor as her voice lowered to a near whisper. “But you do.”

He drew back with a scrunch of his handsome face. “What the deuce is that supposed to mean?”

Lord, help, please … She bolstered her nerve with another fortifying breath as she gathered her thoughts, trying to remember the words Chase had used when he’d so patiently explained how forgiveness and obedience to God’s precepts wasn’t just something we did for others, but for ourselves as well.

To empower our prayers.

The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

A slow exhale seeped through her lips. A righteous person. One who puts God’s will before his own.

Now we know that God does not hear sinners; but if anyone is a worshiper of God and does His will, He hears him.

Molly uttered a silent prayer before she gave Brec a point-blank stare. “It means, Striker Boy, that if you want your prayers answered, you need to do things God’s way. You know, ‘pray for those who mistreat you’?”

“Humph.” He leaned back in his chair with arms in a stubborn fold. “Well, that’s just it, Princess”—one thick black brow jagged high—“I don’t want my prayers answered if they’re for some wanton woman who doesn’t deserve it.”

“No?” She picked up her fork to poke at her pie. “Well, then, what about Miss Lilly?”

His eyes thinned. “What about her?”

“You want your prayers answered for her?” She plunked the pie in her mouth with a brow of her own, jutting high.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can’t have it both ways, bucko. ‘The prayer of a righteous man avails much,’ and hate to break it to you, mister, but ‘righteous’ means doing things God’s way, and that, my friend, means praying blessing on your enemies.” She jutted her chin. “Did you pray for your aunt when you heard she was in the hospital?”