Because she was afraid? she wondered. Yes, maybe, because she was afraid. But also because she didn't want any pressure, any questions, any demands.
The woman who had written the letter had promised none of those. And had offered a great deal more.
Maybe I'll take her up on it, Shannon thought.
And maybe I won't.
Chapter Four
"I don't know why you're fussing so much," Maggie complained. "You'd think you were preparing for royalty."
"I want her to be comfortable." Brianna centered the vase of tulips on the dresser, changed her mind, and took it to the flute-edged table by the window. "She's coming all this way to meet us. I want her to feel at home."
"As far as I can see, you've cleaned the place from top to bottom twice, brought in enough flowers for five weddings, and baked so many cakes and tarts it would take an army to eat them all." As she spoke, Maggie walked over, twitching the lace curtain aside and staring out over the hills. "You're setting yourself up for a disappointment, Brie."
"And you're determined to get no pleasure out of her coming."
"Her letter accepting your invitation wasn't filled with excitement and pleasure, was it now?"
Brianna stopped fluffing bed pillows she'd already fluffed and studied her sister's rigid back. "She's the odd one out, Maggie. We've always had each other, and will still when she's gone again. Added to that she lost her mother not a month ago. I wouldn't have expected some flowery response. I'm happy enough she's decided to come at all."
"She told Rogan's man she didn't want anything to do with us."
"Ah, and you've never in your life said something you reconsidered later."
That brought a smile tugging at Maggie's lips. "Not that I can recall, at the moment." When she turned back, the smile remained. "How much time do we have before we pick her up at the airport?"
"A bit. I need to nurse Kayla first, and I want to change." She blew out a breath at Maggie's expression. "I'm not going to meet the sister I've not yet set eyes on in my apron and dusty pants."
"Well, I'm not changing." Maggie shrugged her shoulders inside the oversized cotton shirt she'd tucked into old jeans.
"Suit yourself," Brianna said lightly as she started out of the room. "But you might want to comb that rat's nest on your head."
Though Maggie curled her lip, she took a glance at herself in the mirror above the dresser. An apt description, she thought with some amusement as she noted her bright red curls were snarled and tousled.
"I've been working," she called out, quickening her pace to catch up with Brianna at the bottom of the steps. "My pipes don't care if my hair's tidy or not. It's not like I have to see people day and night like you do."
"And it's grateful those people are that you don't. Fix yourself a bit of a sandwich or something, Margaret Mary," she added as she breezed into the kitchen. "You're looking peaked."
"I am not." Grumbling but hungry, Maggie headed for the bread drawer. "I'm looking pregnant." Brianna froze in midstride. "What? Oh, Maggie." "And it's your fault if I am," Maggie muttered, brows knitted as she sliced through the fresh brown bread.
Laughing, Brianna swung over to give her sister a hard hug. "Well, now, that's an intriguing statement, and one I'm sure medical authorities worldwide would be interested in."
Maggie tilted her head, and there was humor in her eyes. "Who just had a baby, I ask you? And who had me holding that beautiful little girl barely minutes after she was born so that I went a bit crazy in the head?"
"You're not upset, really, that you might be having another baby?" Brianna stepped back, worrying her lip. "Rogan's pleased, isn't he?"
"I haven't told him yet. I'm a ways from being sure. But I feel it." Instinctively she pressed a hand to her stomach. "And no, I'm not upset, I'm only teasing you. I'm hoping." She gave Brianna a quick pat on the cheek and went back to her sandwich building. "I was queasy this morning."
"Oh." Tears sprang to Brianna's eyes. "That's wonderful."
With a grunt Maggie went to the refrigerator. "I'm just loony enough to agree with you. Don't say anything yet, even to Gray, until I'm sure of it."
"I won't-if you'll have that sandwich sitting down and drink some tea with it."
"Not a bad deal. Go on, feed my niece, change your clothes, or we'll be late to the airport picking up the queen."
Brianna started to snap back, drew a deep breath instead, and slipped through the door that adjoined her rooms with the kitchen.
Those rooms had been expanded since her marriage the year before. The second floor of the main house, and the converted attic, were for the guests who came and went in Blackthorn Cottage. But here, off the kitchen, was for family.
The little parlor and bedroom had been enough when it had only been Brianna. Now a second bedroom, a bright, sunwashed nursery had been added on, with its wide double windows facing the hills and overlooking the young flowering almond Murphy had planted for her on the day Kayla was born.
Above the crib, catching pretty glints of sunlight, was the mobile, the glass menagerie Maggie had made, with its unicorns and winged horses and mermaids. Beneath the dance, staring up at the lights and movements, the baby stirred.
"There's my love," Brianna murmured. And the rush still came, the flood of emotions and wonder. Her child. At last, her child. "Are you watching the lights, darling? So pretty they are, and so clever is your aunt Maggie."
She gathered Kayla up, drawing in the scent, absorbing the feel of baby. "You're going to meet another aunt today. Your aunt Shannon from America. Won't that be grand?"
With the baby curled in one arm, Brianna unbuttoned her blouse as she settled in the rocker. She glanced once at the ceiling, smiling, knowing Gray was above in his studio. Writing, she thought, of murder and mayhem.
"There you are," she cooed, thrilling as Kayla's mouth rooted, then suckled at her breast. "And when you're all fed and changed, you'll be good for your da while I'm gone, just a little while. You've grown so already. It's only a month, you know. A month today."
Gray watched them from the doorway, overwhelmed and humbled. No one could have told him, no one could have explained how it would feel to see his wife, his child. To have a wife and child. Kayla's fist rested on the curve of her mother's breast, ivory against ivory. The sun played gently on their hair, nearly identical shade for shade. They watched each other, linked in a way he could only imagine.
Then Brianna glanced up, smiled. "I thought you were working."
"I heard you on the intercom." He gestured to the small monitor. He'd insisted they put them throughout the house. He crossed to them, crouched beside the rocker. "My ladies are so beautiful."
With a light laugh Brianna leaned forward. "Kiss me, Grayson."
He did, lingering over it, then shifted to brush his lips over Kayla's head. "She's hungry."
"Has her father's appetite." Which turned her thoughts to more practical matters. "I left you some cold meat, and the bread's fresh this morning. If there's time, I'll fix you something before I go."
"Don't worry about it. And if any of the guests come back from their ramblings before you do, I'll put out the scones and make tea."
"You're becoming a fine hotelier, Grayson. Still, I don't want you to interrupt your work." "The work's going fine."
"I can tell that. You're not scowling, and I haven't heard you pacing the floor upstairs for days."
"There's a murder-suicide," he said with a wink. "Or what appears to be. It's cheered me up." Idly he traced a finger over her breast, just above his daughter's head. Since his eyes were on Brianna's he had the satisfaction of seeing the quick jolt of pleasure reflected in her eyes. "When I make love with you again, Brianna, it's going to be like the first time."
She let out an unsteady breath. "I don't think it's fair to seduce me when I'm nursing our daughter."
"It's fair to seduce you anytime." He held up his hand, letting the sunlight glint off the gold of his wedding ring. "We're married
."
"Put your glands on hold, Grayson Thane," Maggie called out from the next room. "We've less than twenty minutes before we have to leave for the airport."
"Spoilsport," he muttered, but grinned as he rose. "I suppose I'll have two of your sisters hounding me now."
But Gray was the last thing on Shannon's mind. She could see Ireland below from the window of the plane, the green of its fields, the black of its cliffs. It was beautiful, awesomely so, and oddly familiar.
She was already wishing she hadn't come.
No turning back, she reminded herself. Foolish to even consider it. It might have been true that she'd made the decision to come on impulse, influenced by the drag of her own guilt and grief, and the simple understanding in Brianna's letter. But she'd followed the impulse through, taking a leave of absence from her job, closing up her apartment, and boarding a plane for a three-thousand mile journey that was minutes away from being complete.
She'd stopped asking herself what she expected to find, or what she wanted to accomplish. She didn't have the answers. All she knew was that she'd needed to come. To see, perhaps, what her mother had once seen. The doubts plagued her-worry that she was being disloyal to the only father she'd ever known, fears that she would suddenly find herself surrounded by relatives she had no desire to acknowledge.
With a shake of her head, she took her compact from her purse. She'd been clear enough in her letter, Shannon reminded herself as she tried to freshen her makeup. She'd edited and revised the text three times before she'd been satisfied enough to mail a response to Brianna. It had been polite, slightly cool, and unemotional.
And that was exactly how she intended to go on. She tried not to wince when the wheels touched down. There was still time, she assured herself, to work on her composure. Years of traveling with her parents had made her familiar with the routine of disembarking, customs, passports. She moved through it on automatic while she calmed her mind.
Confident now, assured that she once again felt slightly aloof to the circumstances, she joined the crowd moving toward the main terminal.
She didn't expect the jolt of recognition. The absolute certainty that the two women waiting with all the others were the Concannons. She could have told herself it was the coloring, the clear creamy skin, the green eyes, the red hair. They shared some features, though the taller of the two had a softer look, and her hair was more gold while the other was pure flame.
But it wasn't the coloring, or the family resemblance that had her zeroing in on only two when there were so many people weeping and laughing and hurrying to embrace. It was a deep visceral knowledge that was surprisingly painful.
She had only an instant to sum them up, the taller, neat as a pin in a simple blue dress, the other oddly chic in a baggy shirt and tattered jeans. And she saw her recognition returned, with a glowing smile by one, a cool, measured stare by the other.
"Shannon. Shannon Bodine." Without hesitation or plan, Brianna hurried forward and kissed Shannon lightly on the cheek. "Welcome to Ireland. I'm Brianna."
"How do you do?" Shannon was grateful her hands were gripped on the luggage cart. But Brianna was already neatly brushing her aside to take the cart herself.
"This is Maggie. We're so glad you've come."
"You'll want to get out of the crowd, I imagine." Reserving judgment on the aloof woman in the expensive slacks and jacket, Maggie inclined her head. "It's a long trip across the water."
"I'm used to traveling."
"It's always exciting, isn't it?" Though her nerves were jumping, Brianna talked easily as she pushed the cart. "Maggie's done a great deal more than I have of seeing places. Every time I get on a plane I feel as though I'm someone else. Was it a pleasant trip for you?"
"It was quiet."
A little desperate now as it seemed she would never draw more than one short declarative sentence from Shannon at a time, Brianna began to talk of the weather -it was fine-and the length of the trip to the cottage- mercifully short. On either side of her Shannon and Maggie eyed each other with mutual distrust.
"We'll have a meal for you," Brianna went on as they loaded Shannon's luggage in the car. "Or you can rest a bit first if you're tired."
"I don't want to put you to any trouble," Shannon said, so definitely that Maggie snorted.
"Going to trouble is what Brie does best. You'll take the front," she added coolly. "As the guest."
Quite the bitch, Shannon decided, and jerked up her chin, much as Maggie had a habit of doing, as she slid into the passenger seat.
Brianna set her teeth. She was used, much too used to family discord. But it still hurt. "You've never been to Ireland, then, Shannon?"
"No." Because the word had been curt, and made her feel as bitchy as she'd concluded Maggie was, she deliberately relaxed her shoulders. "What I saw from the air was lovely."
"My husband's traveled everywhere, but he says this spot is the loveliest he's seen." Brianna tossed a smile at Shannon while she negotiated her way out of the airport. "But it's his home now, and he's prejudiced."
"You're married to Grayson Thane."
"Aye. For a year come the end of June. He came to Ireland, to Clare, to research a book. It'll be out soon. Of course, he's working on another now, and having a fine time murdering people right and left."
"I like his books." A safe topic, Shannon decided. A simple one. "My father was a big fan."
And that brought a moment of thick, uncomfortable silence.
"It was hard for you," Brianna said carefully. "Losing both your parents so close together. I hope your time here will help ease your heart a little."
"Thank you." Shannon turned her head and watched the scenery. And it was lovely, there was no denying it. Just as there was no denying there was something special in the way the sun slanted through the clouds and gilded the air.
"Rogan's man said you're a commercial artist," Maggie began, more from curiosity than manners.
"That's right."
"So what you do is sell things, market them."
Shannon's brow lifted. She recognized disdain when she heard it, however light it was. "In a manner of speaking." Deliberately she turned, leveled her gaze on Maggie's. "You sell... things. Market them."
"No." Maggie's smile was bland. "I create them. Someone else has the selling of them."
"It's interesting, don't you think," Brianna put in quickly, "that both of you are artists?"
"Odd more like," Maggie muttered, and shrugged when Brianna aimed a warning glance in the rearview mirror.
Shannon merely folded her hands. She, at least, had been raised with manners. "How close is your home to a town, Brianna? I thought I would rent a car."
"We're a bit of a way from the village. You won't find a car to let there. But you're welcome to the use of this one when you like."
"I don't want to take your car."
"It sits idle more often than not. And Gray has one as well, so ... You'll want to do some sightseeing, I imagine. One of us will be happy to guide you about if you like. Sometimes people just like to wander on their own. This is our village," she added.
It was no more than that, Shannon mused, more than a little downcast. A tiny place with narrowing sloping streets and shops and houses nestled. Charming, certainly, and quaint. And, she thought with an inner sigh, inconvenient. No theater, no galleries, no fast food. No crowds.
A man glanced up at the sound of the car, grinned around the cigarette clinging to his bottom lip and lifted a hand in a wave as he continued to walk.
Brianna waved in return, and called out the open window. "Good day to you, Matthew Feeney."
"Don't stop, for Christ's sake, Brie," Maggie ordered even as she waved herself. "He'll talk from now till next week if you do."
"I'm not after stopping. Shannon wants a rest, not village gossip. Still, I wonder if his sister Colleen is going to marry that Brit salesman."
"Better had from what I've heard," Maggie said, scooting up to rest her hands
on the back of the front seat. "For he's sold her something already she'll be paying for in nine months time." "Colleen's carrying?"
"The Brit planted one in her belly, and now her father's got one hand around his throat and the other seeing the banns are read. I got the whole of it from Murphy a night or two ago in the pub."
Despite herself, Shannon felt her interest snagged. "Are you telling me they'll force the man to marry her?" "Oh, force is a hard word," Maggie said with her tongue in her cheek. "Encourage is better. Firmly encourage, pointing out the very reasonable choices between marriage vows and a broken face."
"It's an archaic solution, don't you think? After all, the woman had as much to do with it as the man."
"And she'll be stuck with him just as he's stuck with her. And the best of it they're bound to make."
"Until they have six more children and divorce," Shannon said shortly.
"Well, we all take our chances on such matters, don't we." Maggie settled back again. "And we Irish pride ourselves on taking more of them, and bigger ones than most."
Didn't they just? Shannon thought as she lifted her chin again. With their IRA and lack of birth control, alcoholism and no-way-out marriages.
Thank God she was just a tourist.
Her heart gave a quick lurch as the road narrowed. The winding needle threaded through a thick tunnel of hedge planted so close to the edge of the road the car brushed vegetation from time to time. Occasionally there was an opening in the wall of green, where a tiny house or shed could be viewed.
Shannon tried not to think just what might happen if another car came by.
Then Brianna made a turn, and the world opened.
Without being aware of it, Shannon leaned forward, her eyes wide, her lips parted in surprised delight.
The valley was a painting. For surely it couldn't be real. Roll after green roll of hill unfolded before her, bisected here and there by rock walls, sliced by a patch of brown turned earth, a sudden colorful spread that was meadows of wildflowers.
Toy houses and barns had been placed in perfect spots, with dots of grazing cattle meandering, clothes waving cheerfully on lines.
Books by Nora Roberts Page 119