Born in Shame, Page 37

  "Why shouldn't she? She's being spoiled right and left."

  "Brianna's an incredibly loving mother," Shannon shot back before she could stop herself.

  Maeve merely sniffed. "The baby can't so much as whimper that someone's not snatching her up."

  "Including you," Lottie put in. "Oh, Brie, what a lovely cake."

  Resigned that she'd have to bake another now for her guests' dessert, Brianna took out a knife. "Sit down, won't you, and have a piece."

  Liam shot out of the adjoining door, five paces ahead of his mother. "Cake!" he shouted.

  "Got radar, that boy has." However gruff her voice, Maeve's eyes lit up at the sight of him. "There's a likely lad."

  He beamed at her, sensing an ally, and lifted his arms. "Kiss."

  "Come sit on my lap," Maeve ordered. "And you'll have both, the cake and the kiss. He's a bit flushed, Margaret Mary."

  "He's just up from his nap. Are you cutting that cake then, Brie?"

  "You should have more care with your diet, now that you're breeding again," Maeve told her. "The doctor says you've the morning sickness this time around."

  It was a toss-up as to who was more shocked by the statement, Maeve or Maggie. Already wishing the words back, Maeve began to feed her grandson bits of cake.

  "It's nothing."

  "She's sick as a dog every morning," Shannon corrected, looking directly at Maeve.

  "Maggie, you told me it was passing." There was accusation twined with the concern in Brianna's voice.

  Furious and embarrassed, Maggie glared at Shannon. "It's nothing," she repeated. "Never could bear a weakness." Maeve's caustic comment had the fury leaping. Before Maggie could spew, Shannon nodded in agreement. "She snaps like a terrier when you try to help her through it. It's hard, don't you think, Mrs. Concannon, for a strong woman to need help? And one like Maggie, who's figured out how to handle a family and a demanding career, to lose her stomach and her control every morning... it's lowering."

  "I was sick every morning for more than three months carrying her," Maeve said crisply. "A woman learns to get through such things-as a man never could." "No, they'd just whine about it." "Neither of my daughters were whiners, ever." Scowling again, Maeve looked over at Brianna. "Are you going to stand there holding that pot of tea all day, Brianna, or are you going to pour it out?"

  "Oh." She managed to lift the jaw that had dropped and serve the tea. "Sorry."

  "Thank you, darling." Delighted with the way things were going, Lottie beamed.

  For more than two years she'd been nudging and tugging Maeve toward even a shaky bridge with her daughters. Now it looked as though the span was narrowing. "You know, Maggie, Maeve and I were just looking through the snapshots from our trip to your home in France."

  "No more pride than a beggar," Maeve muttered, but Lottie just smiled.

  "They reminded us both what a lovely time we had there. It's the south of France," she told Shannon. "The house is like a palace and looks right out over the sea."

  "And sits there empty, month after month," Maeve grumbled. "Empty but for servants."

  Maggie started to snarl at the complaint, but caught Brianna's arched look. It cost her, but she buried the hot words and chose kinder ones. "Rogan and I were talking about just that not long ago. We'd hoped to take a few weeks there this summer, but both of us are too busy to go just now."

  She let out a breath, telling herself she was earning points with the angels. "It's been a bit of a concern to me that no one's there to check on matters, and see that the staff is doing as it should."

  Which was a big, bold lie she hoped wouldn't negate the points. "I don't suppose the two of you would consider taking a bit of time and going out there? It would be a great favor to me if you could manage it."

  With an effort Lottie bit back the urge to spring up and dance. She looked at Maeve, cocked her head. "What do you think, Maeve? Could we manage it?"

  As the image of the sunny villa, the servants dancing attendance, the sheer luxury of it all slid into her mind, she shrugged and brought the cup of tea to Liam's waiting lips.

  "Traveling aggravates my digestion. But I suppose I could tolerate a bit of inconvenience."

  This time it was Shannon's warning glance that held back Maggie's snarl. "I'd be grateful," she said between clamped teeth. "I'll have Rogan arrange to have the plane take you when it suits."

  Twenty minutes later Brianna listened to the front door close behind her mother and Lottie, then crossed the kitchen to give Maggie a hard hug. "That was well done, Maggie."

  "I feel as if I'd swallowed a toad. Her digestion be damned."

  Brianna only laughed. "Don't spoil it."

  "And you." Maggie spun to jerk an accusing finger at Shannon.

  "And me?" she returned, all innocence.

  "As if I couldn't see the wheels turning in your head. 'Sick as a dog, she is, Mrs. Concannon. Snaps like a terrier.' "

  "Worked, didn't it?"

  Maggie opened her mouth, then closed it on a laugh. "It did, but my pride's sorely injured." Catching movement through the window, she moved closer and peered out. "Well, look what Con's rooted out of the bush. There's three men coming this way, Brianna. You may want to make a new pot of tea." She stared out for another moment as a smile bloomed. "Christ Jesus, what a handsome lot they are. I'll take the jackeen," she murmured. "The two of you can scrabble over the others."

  While Shannon tried to adjust her suddenly jittery system, Maggie went to the door and threw it open. Con bolted in first, streaking under the table to vacuum up the crumbs Liam had been considerate enough to drop.

  "Cake." His senses as tuned as the hounds, Gray spotted the treat the moment he crossed the threshold. "With the marshmallow stuff. Guys, we've struck gold."

  "Da." Liam bounced in his chair and held up sticky fingers. Rogan had the presence of mind to stop by the sink and dampen a cloth before he went to his son.

  Murphy just stood there, his cap in his hands, his eyes on Shannon. "You're back."

  "A couple of hours ago," she began, then her eyes widened as he marched to her, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her the way a wise man only kisses a woman in private.

  "Welcome."

  She didn't have a single breath left. She drew some in and nodded. She would have given her shaky legs the relief of sitting again, but he held firm to her arm.

  "Come with me."

  "Well, I..." Her gaze darted around the room, where everyone was suddenly intent on their own business.

  "Hold on to yourself, Murphy," Maggie said lightly as she got out fresh plates. "Shannon's a present she wants to give you."

  "Yes. That's right. I..." She trailed off.

  "I'll get the box for you," Rogan offered.

  "Will you have some tea, Murphy?" Brianna asked.

  "No, thank you." He never took his eyes off Shannon's face. "We can't stay just now. Shannon'11 have dinner with me tonight."

  "And breakfast," Gray murmured in Brianna's ear.

  "Thank you, Rogan." Shannon took the box he brought in and wondered what to do next.

  "What is it?" Gray wanted to know. "Open it up. Ow." He winced as Brianna jabbed his ribs with her elbow.

  "He'll open it at home," she said. "Take some cake with you." She already readied a slab and handed Murphy the covered plate.

  "Thanks. Come with me," he said again and, taking Shannon's arm, led her outside.

  "Good thing you gave him the plate," Maggie commented. "Else he'd have his hands all over her before they were out of the garden."

  As it was, he had to call on all of his control. He wanted to drag her over the fields, down onto them.

  Instead he concentrated on keeping his stride from outdistancing hers.

  "I should have brought the lorry." "It's not far to walk," she said, breathless. "Right now it is. Is that heavy? I'll take it." "No." She shifted the box out of his reach. It wasn't light, but she wanted to carry it. "You might guess."

  "You
didn't have to buy me anything. Your coming back's present enough." He hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her easily over the wall. "I missed you every minute. I didn't know a man could think of a woman so many times in one day."

  He forced himself to take three calming breaths. "Rogan told me you'd signed the contracts with him. Are you happy?"

  "Part of me is, and part of me's terrified." "The fear's only a motivator to do your best. You'll be famous, Shannon, and rich." "I'm already rich." His stride faltered. "You are?" "Comparatively."

  "Oh." He'd have to mull that one over, he decided. Think it through. But at the moment his mind kept getting muddled with images of peeling her out of that pretty tailored jacket.

  When they reached the farm, he held open the kitchen door. He set the plate on the counter and would have grabbed her if she hadn't anticipated him and moved to the other side of the table.

  "I'd like you to open your present." She set it on the table between them.

  "I want you upstairs, on the stairs. Here on the floor."

  Blood bubbled under her skin. "The way I'm feeling right now, you can have me upstairs, on the stairs, and here on the floor." She held up a hand when his eyes went hot. "But I'd really like you to see what I got you in Dublin."

  He didn't give a damn if she'd brought him a solid-gold pitchfork or a jeweled plowshare. But the quiet request stopped him from simply leaping over the table. Instead, he lifted the lid from the box and pushed through the packing.

  She saw the instant he realized what was under it. The stunned joy crept into his face. Suddenly he looked as young and bedazzled as any child who's found his heart's desire under the tree on Christmas morning.

  Reverently he lifted the dulcimer out, ran his fingers over the wood. "I've never seen anything so fine."

  "Maggie said you'd made one yourself just as fine, then given it away."

  Enchanted, he only shook his head. "No, 'twasn't so beautiful as this." He looked up then, wonder and delight in his eyes. "What made you think to buy such a thing as this for me?"

  "I saw it in the window, and I saw you playing it. Will you play it for me, Murphy?"

  "I haven't played the dulcimer in a time." But he unwrapped the hammers, stroked them as he might the down of a newly hatched chick. "There's a tune I know."

  And when he played it, she saw that she'd been right. He had that half smile on his face, the faraway look in his eyes. The melody was old and sweet, like some lovely wine just decanted. It filled the kitchen, made her eyes sting and her heart swell.

  "It's the grandest gift I've ever had," he said as he set the hammers gently aside. "I'll treasure it."

  The impatient beast that had clawed inside of him was calmed. He came around the table and took her hands gently in his. "I love you, Shannon."

  "I know." She lifted their joined hands to her cheek. "I know you do."

  "You called me yesterday and told me you loved me. Will you tell me now?"

  "I shouldn't have called that way." She spoke quickly as nerves began to spark in her fingertips. "I wasn't thinking clearly, and..." He kissed those unsteady fingertips, watching her patiently over them. "I do love you, Murphy, but-"

  He only laid his lips on hers, silencing the rest. "Ever since I heard you tell me, the first time, I've been aching for you. Will you come upstairs with me, Shannon?"

  "Yes." She leaned closer, trapping their joined hands between. "I'll come upstairs with you." She smiled, swept up in the romance of it even as she was swept up in his arms.

  The light was lovely, trailing through the windows, scattering over the stairs as he carried her up, flowing pale across the bed when he laid her on it.

  It was so easy to sink into that light, into the gentle strength of his arms as they wrapped around her, into the warm promise of his mouth.