The next evening, after supper, Emer took her usual evening walk. Instead of walking around the garden, she decided to walk to the church.

Her mind was reeling, she had made a mistake. Penance was waiting for her. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. She kneeled at the altar, finding the chapel empty, quiet.

She couldn't say the words aloud, not yet. Confessional was off limits. She would find her own absolution with prayer.

Footsteps echoed in the empty halls behind her. She sighed, clutching her rosary close to her heart and trying to ignore the intrusion.

"S'nice night." A familiar voice mused. It sounded like honey and gravel.

"I think you and your brother have done enough damage in my life." She growled, glancing over her shoulder at him. "I think you should go."

"Now wait a minute." He protested. "S'not fair. Ye may be mad at Connor, but I aven't done anythin'."

"You both had the same idea." She accused.

"An'?" He growled, arms swaying angrily at his sides. "Don' act like yer innocent in dis, lass. Ye wanted it, too. I could tell."

"I'd watch what I was saying, if I were you." She glared, pushing herself up on the altar. It was apparent she wasn't going to be able to concentrate on chastity and repentance tonight. Not here.

"There's a reason ye didn' stop 'im last night. Yer juss as guilty." He said.

Angrily, she pushed past him, ready to leave the sanctuary and his pensive stare, but he grabbed her wrist, his hand reading 'Aequitas'. Justice, she thought. Without warning, she was spinning into his broad chest. "Let go of me!" She warned.

"I didn' say it was a bad thing, lass." He warned quietly.

He was warm beneath her hands, like his brother, but somehow different. She could smell him, the clean scent of man, smoke, and woodsy musk, almost spicy. She could feel it happening again, her resolve dissolving at his heated touch. She was ready to run, watching him lick his lips, staring her down. Then she spotted, just under his collar, a set of wooden beads. She lifted a dainty finger, trailing her nail along the Virgin Mary, forever printed on his neck, and along the collar of his shirt, settling on the vintage jewelry. Her fingers picked up the bead and the rest of the necklace followed; his rosary was now on display.

"I'm juss like you, girl. I'd never make ye do anythin' that'll damn ye ta 'ell. Everyone needs ta seek comfort some'ow."

She cut her eyes up at him, realizing now he was speaking to her. He sounded suspiciously like the Devil, just then.

"Let me take ye somewhere, aye? I promise, ye say the word an' I'll take ye back ta the convent. I would never force ye ta do anythin'." He sounded sincere. "Beo dainséarach." He smirked, watching her face change with indecision.

She watched him lick his lips again. He certainly was the Devil. Slowly, she made a quiet admission. "I trust you."

"Watch yer step." He warned, reaching behind him to grab her hand. "Juss a little further."

"What is all of this?" She asked, reluctantly taking his hand as he helped hoist her up.

"Use ta come 'ere when I was a kid." He explained. "When Connor an' I would argue. 'E'd never find me." He crossed the floor with his long gait and flicked a match, lighting a lantern on the floor, illuminating the space.

She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the light. "A hayloft?"

He had brought her to a hayloft.

"Aye." He nodded. On the ground, beneath the lantern, was a large red blanket, laid out. "Family farm's not far from 'ere."

"And Connor?"

"'E wont be lookin' fer me. Not 'ere, anyway."

She looked around. Piled up behind the blanket, against the barn's far wall, stacks of hay. There was a slight window between the piles. The moonlight over the moors shown in, allowing a bluer tinged light to gleam on her face as she took in the scene. She walked up to the window, looking out at the rolling hills in the field outside. She felt his presence behind her without looking. "Does that mean that the both of you are fighting?"

"Aye." He said quietly. His voice so close, his breath moved a stray wisp of hair. "O'er you."

"Me?" She asked, clearly taken aback by his admission. She turned to face him.

"Aye. We seemed to 'ave a difference o' opinion when it comes to boundaries."

"I don't believe I understand…"

"We 'ad decided, after we took ye ta the convent, that'd it'd be best if we both left y'alone. Ye seemed ta 'ave a good concept o' what ye wanted an' we put the idea out dere… If ye changed yer mind…"

"And then Connor showed up."

"I saw ye first." Murphy muttered.

"It isn't a contest." She hissed. "I'm not some prize to be claimed. Yesterday, I had my entire life planned, I knew where I was going. I was ready to give myself to God. Then you and your brother showed up and just ruined everything."

"Less not ferget it takes two ta tango, as it were." He smirked, triumphantly. "If'n ye'd know fer sure ye were gonna take the sacred vow, ye wouldn't 'ave done anythin' with Connor lass night."

He was right. Her own guilty conscience was clouding her judgment. She was placing blame elsewhere when she really needed to take a good look at herself.

"Ye've nothin' ta be ashamed o' lass. Ye've done nothin' wrong. Ye 'aven't even taken yer vows, yet. Yer still a free woman." He bravely reached out his forefinger, the tattooed one, tracing her jaw and lifting her chin. "Wid needs." He whispered, touching his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "Ba mhaith liom buíochas a grá agat freisin, más mian leat in iúl dom. Lig dom a thaispeáint duit cad is féidir leis an deartháir níos fearr a dhéanamh." He leaned forward to kiss her nose, but she had other plans, leaning up on her toes and forcing their lips together. He grabbed her face in both hands, holding her in place.

She moaned into his mouth the moment he pulled away. "Is that a yes, den?"

She considered it, biting her lip and nodding. "Please. Make me forget."

Her pleading eliciting a growl from Murphy, and he bit her lower lip, pulling her toward him. He walked them backwards until his heel tapped the lantern, nearly tipping it. He sank down to his knees, pulling her down behind him, their lips still connected. He leaned into her. She fell back on her hands. Murphy was able to slip his arms around her waist, grabbing her zipper and pulling it down the length of her back until her dress fell open.

Murphy slipped the panels of her dress down her shoulders, suddenly more gentle and cautious with his movements. It was as if he had just realized that she was fragile, afraid of breaking her. His large, strong hand dominated her, tilting her chin up, exposing the pure white flesh of her neck to him. He kissed her jaw, working his way down, suckling deeply and causing her to groan in frustration.

She suddenly felt the desire to touch his skin, needing desperately to feel it against hers, a reminder that she wasn't the only one sinning in this moment. If she was going down, someone else had to be condemned with her. She gripped the sides of his coat, slipping it over his shoulders. He broke away to allow her to strip his top half. When the coat disappeared, she gripped the bottom of his black shirt, bunching it in her hands, pulling it up and barely breaking contact enough to discard it on the ground beside them. Her fingernails found his shoulders, digging into his flesh as he peeled her dress down.

He continued his descent down her chest, finally pulling the top of her dress down to expose her full breasts, nipples already hard from arousal. He growled at the sight, not being able to control himself. He used his teeth and tongue to tease at them, working around the crucifix that lay between her breasts. She whimpered, a beautiful sound, before biting into his shoulder. She noticed how close she was to the Mother Mary and abruptly turned her head.

He pulled away, staring at her with wild lust in his eyes and a wicked grin. He pushed himself up, onto his knees and began undoing his pants, wiggling his body just so he could kick off his boots and pants awkwardly. She couldn't help but notice the cross tattooed on his forearm. He kneeled before her, naked, only his rosary dangling from his neck. She looked at the necklace, dangling between them. When he realized what she was looking at, he lifted the necklace over his head. He took both of her hands in his. "Ye still trust me?"

"Yes."

He kissed her knuckles, lovingly, before slipping the necklace over her wrists. He wound it, layering it a few times until it was tight, the beads barely digging into her ivory skin. His fingers ghosted their way up her arms until he reached her neck, latching a finger under her own rosary and pulling it over her head, pulling it free from her hair. He trailed the crucifix over her breasts, lightly tracing her light pink nipples, watching them twitch from the contact. He then took the rosary and placed it lovingly on top of the lantern, hanging it from the handle at the top.

He took her bound wrists, placing them over her head, kissing her gently on the lips again. She moaned into the kiss, writhing beneath him. He chuckled to himself, feeling her hip push against his hard cock. He rocked himself back on his heels, grabbing her dress and pulling it over her thighs until it pooled at her ankles. He knelt back some more, tugging the dress over her shoe-clad feet before tossing the shoes as well.

She was a vision, laying there, arching and keening towards him like a wanton thing, her hands tied above her head, the alabaster curves beneath that plain black dress all out for display.

He spread her legs apart, bending them at the knees and took a step back to admire his work for a moment. He hummed to himself, gratuitously, biting his lower lip before climbing over her, kissing up the length of one of her legs until he found her hot core, wet and warm and waiting. He kissed the top of her mound through her white cotton panties, murmuring to himself at her scent. The vibrations gave her shivers and she wiggled beneath him. He ran his fingers over the crotch of her underwear before he pulled them to the side. He blew hot air on her core, causing her back to arch, before he dove in, swirling small figure eights and deliberate circles around her tight bundle of nerves.

Her hands flew forward in unison, clutching tightly in Murphy's dark hair, holding him in place as she squirmed beneath him. Murphy grumbled in frustration as she fought him, digging his fingers into her hips to hold her still. The vibrations of his voice only heightened the pressure between her legs and caused her body to rock more. He pursed his lips and sucked hard on her clit before grinding his tongue into her with more force. She made the most beautiful sound, kin to squealing, as her toes curled and she unraveled beneath him.

He licked his lips playfully as she down at him, releasing her death grip on his hair. "Blas tú cosúil le neamh."

"Murphy, please." She whimpered.

His cock twitched at the sound of her whimpering need. He grabbed at her, easily flipping her tiny body so she lay on her stomach and lifted her hips so her ass was in the air and he tugged her panties down until they caught at the joint of her knees. Tired of waiting, he positioned himself behind her, taking his length in his hands and running it down her slit, swirling the head of his hard cock around her clit before finding her entrance and easing himself in, painfully slow.

She was wet, deliciously warm, and dangerously tight. Even better than he imagined.

He pulled out, slowly at first, then thrust his hips back in. She thrust backwards, meeting him, needing this just as much. He found a pace with his movements, gripping her agile little hips and pulling her back onto him a few more time before he leaned into her back, biting at her neck and shoulders. She fought to hold herself up on her elbows, finding it difficult with her wrists clasped together. He reached around her stomach and grasped her clit in two fingers, pumping it in time with his thrusts. "Oh, God." She whimpered, hanging her head in defeat.

"Níl mé Dia, ach tá tú aingeal." He whispered. His teeth bit into the sensitive flesh of her earlobe as his hand trailed over her hip, prying her ass cheeks apart. He pressed his thumb against her tighter whole and, to his surprise, she pushed back, causing him to plunge in further. He leaned back up, forcing her head down with a hand to the back of her throat. His other arm was wrapped around her stomach, bending her body into his as he pumped his hot seed into her. It was all too much, the sensations overwhelming her until she began to unraveling, muttering his name and squeezing his cock with the fevered contractions of her tight cunt.

He managed to pull himself away from her, her little body collapsing without his support. He collapsed beside her and they both struggled to catch their breath.

Lazily, Emer rolled her eyes open, noticing all too quickly that Christ, hanging from the crucifix binding her hands, was staring directly at her, the tears of blood being shed for her innocence. She jerked her arms, finding the strand of beads too resistant for her to break free. "Murphy! Murphy, get it off!" She screamed, suddenly frantic.

"All right, 'old still!" He instructed, looking concerned. "I'll git it, ye juss gotta calm down, girl."

"Murphy, please!" She began to cry, giving him her arms.

Lovingly, carefully, he unwrapped the beads from her hands. He placed the rosary back over his own head and gently rubbed her wrists, trying to knead the marks the beads had left behind from her flesh. "Y'alright, lass?" He looked up, catching her eye. One look at her face, full of fear and anguish, he knew the answer. "I'll take ye back. Less git dressed."

Translations:

Beo dainséarach. – Live dangerously

Ba mhaith liom buíochas a grá agat freisin, más mian leat in iúl dom. Lig dom a thaispeáint duit cad is féidir leis an deartháir níos fearr a dhéanamh. - I'd like to love you too, if you would let me. Let me show you what the better brother can do.

Blas tú cosúil le neamh. – You taste like heaven.

Níl mé Dia, ach tá tú aingeal. – I'm not God, but you certainly are an angel.