by Nora Roberts
"You made your point." Whatever effort it took to concede it, Maeve disguised in a brisk nod. "And you have some sense, more than the man whose blood runs through you ever did."
Shannon inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you."
While Shannon continued on her way, everyone else gaped at Maeve as if she'd sprouted wings. "Well, are you going to stand around outside all the day?" she demanded. "Get a move on you, Lottie. I want to go in and see my granddaughter."
Not bad, Shannon decided and quickened her step. If she had half that much luck getting through to Murphy, she could consider it an excellent day's work.
When she reached the farm and circled to the back, she saw Murphy standing near the paddock of sheep beside a short, bandy-legged man who had his teeth clamped around a pipe.
They weren't speaking, but she would have sworn some sort of communication was going on.
Suddenly, the older man bobbed his head. "All right then, Murphy. Two pigs."
"I'd be grateful if you could hold them for me, Mr. McNee. For a day or two."
"That I can do." He shoved the pipe further into his mouth and had started toward the paddock when he spotted Shannon. "You've company, lad."
Murphy glanced over and smiled broadly. "Shannon. I'm happy to see you."
"Just don't start with me, you baboon." She strode forward to shove a finger into his chest. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."
Beside them, McNee perked up his ears. "Is this the one then, Murphy?"
Gauging his ground, Murphy rubbed his chin. "She is."
"You took your time picking one out, but you picked a fair one."
Temper bubbling, Shannon turned on McNee. "If you've bet on this idiot, you can kiss your money goodbye."
"Is there a pool?" McNee asked, offended. "Why wasn't I told of it?"
While Shannon considered the satisfaction of knocking their heads together, Murphy patted her arm. "If you'll excuse me just a minute, darling. Do you need help getting the lamb you fancy, Mr. McNee?"
"No, I can handle the job, and it looks like you've enough on your hands at the moment." With surprising agility, the old man swung into the paddock and sent bleating sheep scattering.
"We'll go inside."
"We'll stay right here," Shannon shot back, then swore at him when he took a firm grip on her arm.
"We'll go in," he repeated. "I prefer you do your shouting at me in private."
In his careful way he stopped at the stoop, pulled off his muddy Wellingtons. He opened the door for her, waited as any well-mannered man would for her to storm in before him.
"Will you sit?"
"No, damn you to hell and back, I won't sit."
He shrugged, leaned back against the counter. "We'll stand then. You've something on your mind?"
His mild tone only fanned the fires. "How dare you? How dare you call your family and tell them to come look me over, like I was one of your horses going up for auction."
His face relaxed. "You're mistaken about that. I asked if they'd come meet you. That's entirely different."
"It is not different. And you're having them come on false pretenses. You told them you were courting me."
"So I am courting you, Shannon."
"We've been through that, and I'm not going through it again."
"That's fine then. Can I offer you tea?"
She was surprised she had any teeth left, as hard as she was grinding them. "No, you can't offer me tea."
"I do have something else for you." He reached behind him on the counter and picked up a box. "I was in Ennis a day or so ago and bought this for you. I forgot to give it to you yesterday."
In a gesture she recognized as childish, she put her hands behind her back. "No, absolutely no. I'm not taking gifts from you. This isn't even remotely amusing anymore, Murphy."
He simply opened the box himself. "You like to wear pretty things. These caught my eye."
Despite her best intentions, she looked down at the open box. They were pretty-foolishly pretty earrings of exactly the type she might have chosen herself. Citrine and amethyst hearts were nestled, one atop the other.
"Murphy, those are expensive. Take them back."
"I'm not a pauper, Shannon, if it's my wallet you're worrying about."
"That's a consideration, but it's secondary." She forced herself to look away from the lovely stones. "I'm not taking gifts from you. It'll only encourage you."
He walked toward her until she found herself backed up against the refrigerator. "Don't you dare."
"You're not wearing any today," he observed. "So we'll try them on. Hold still, darling, I don't know if I've the knack of it."
She batted at his hands as he started to fasten the first earring, then yelped when he poked the post into her lobe.
"You asked for it," he muttered, giving the job his full concentration.
"I'm going to hit you," she said between her teeth.
"Wait till I'm done. This is clumsy work for a man. Why do they make these little clasp things so bloody small? There." Like a man satisfied with the completion of a pesky chore, he stepped back and studied the result. "They suit you."
"You can't reason with the unreasonable," she reminded herself. "Murphy, I want you to call your family and tell them not to come."
"I can't do that. They're looking forward to the ceili, and meeting you."
She bunched her hands into fists. "All right, then call and tell them you made a mistake, changed your mind, whatever, and that you and I are not an item."
His brow creased. "You're meaning I should tell them I'm not going to marry you?"
"That's it, exactly." She gave him a congratulatory pat on the arm. "You've finally got it."
"I hate to say no to you about anything, but I can't be lying to my family." He was quick enough on his feet to dodge the first punch, then the second. The third nearly caught him as he was doubled over with laughter, but he evaded by snagging her around the waist and swinging her in a giddy circle.
"God, you're for me, Shannon. I'm crazy in love with you."
"Crazy," she began, but the rest was muffled against his mouth.
He stole her breath. She couldn't get it back. While she gripped his shoulders, he continued to circle her, adding dizziness to breathlessness. His mouth added the heat. Even when he stopped the wild spinning, the room continued to revolve, and her heart with it.
There was a quick and stunning thought through the haze of desire, that he was giving her no choice but to love him.
"I'm not going to let this happen." On a panicked flood of strength, she shoved away.
Her hair was tousled, her eyes wide and stunned. He could see the pulse hammering at her throat, and the color the kiss had left blooming in her cheeks.
"Come to bed with me, Shannon." His voice was thick, rough, and edgy. "Christ Jesus, I need you. Every time you walk away there's a hole in me, and a terrible fear you won't come back." Desperate, he pulled her close again, buried his face in her hair. "I can't keep watching you walk away, and never having you."
"Don't do this." She squeezed her eyes tight and fought a vicious battle with what was inside her. "You won't let it be anything as simple as going to bed, and I can't let it be anything else."
"It is something else. It's everything else." He yanked her back. Remembering, he dropped his hands before his fingers could bruise. "Is it because I trip around you? I get clumsy sometimes because I can't always think in a clear way when I'm close to you."
"No, it's not you, Murphy. It's me. It's me and your idea of us. And I've handled it much more clumsily than you." She tried to take a deep breath, but found her chest was painfully tight. "So I'm going to fix that. I'm not going to see you again." Keeping her eyes on his cost her, but she refused to back down. "That'll make it easier for both of us. I'm going to start my arrangements to go back to New York."
"That's running," he said evenly. "But do you know if you're running from me or from yourself?"
/>
"It's my life. I have to get back to it."
The fury crawling through him left no room even for fear. With his eyes burning into hers, he reached into his pocket and tossed what he had carried there onto the table.
Her nerves began to stretch even before she lowered her gaze and saw it. The circle of copper with the figure of a stallion embossed. It would have a pin on the back, she knew, sturdy and thick enough to clamp together a man's riding cloak.
Murphy watched her go as pale as glass. Her fingers reached out for it, then drew back sharply, curling into a defensive fist.
"What is it?"
"You know what it is." He swore with studied violence when she shook her head. "Don't lie to yourself. It's poor spirited."
She could see it against dark wool, both broach and cloak beaded with rain. "Where did you get it?"
"I found it, center of the dance when I was a boy. I fell asleep with it in my hand, right there. And dreamed of you the first time."
She couldn't take her eyes from it, even when her vision wavered. "That isn't possible."
"It happened, just as I told you." He picked it up and held it out to her.
"I don't want it." Panic snaked into her voice.
"I've kept it for you half my life." Calmer now, he slipped it back into his pocket. "I can keep it longer. There's no need for you to leave before you've had the time you're wanting with your sisters. I won't touch you in that way again, or pressure you to give me what you're not willing to. You've my word."
He would keep it. She knew him now well enough not to doubt it. How could she blame him for giving her a promise that made her feel small and weepy? "I care about you, Murphy. I don't want to hurt you."
She couldn't have any idea how much she had done just that. But he kept his voice neutral. "I'm a man grown, Shannon, and can tend to myself."
She'd been so sure she could walk away cold. Now she found she wanted to hold him again, and be held. "I don’t want to loose your friendship. It’s come to mean a lot to me in a short time."
"You couldn't lose it." He smiled, though he had to keep his hands close to his sides to keep from reaching for her. "You never have to worry over that."
She tried not to as she left and started up the road again. And she tried not to think too deeply about why she needed to weep.
Chapter Fourteen
Murphy put his back into mucking out the stables. Physical labor was part of his life, and he knew how to use strain and sweat to ease the mind.
It was a pity it wasn't working for him.
He drove his shovel into the soiled straw bedding, tossed the load into the growing pile in his wheelbarrow.
"You always had a good aim, you did, Murphy." Maggie strolled up behind him. She was smiling, but her eyes were searching his face for signs. And what she found tore at her heart.
"Why aren't you working?" He spoke without looking over or stopping. "I hear your furnace."
"I'm going to get to it." She came closer, resting a
hand on the open stall door. "I didn't come by yesterday because I thought you might want a little breathing space. So I waited till this morning. Shannon looked miserable when she came back after seeing you yesterday."
"I did my best to put her at ease." He bit off the words before taking his shovel into the next stall.
"What about your ease, Murphy?" Maggie laid a hand on his back, leaving it lay despite his badtempered shrug. "I can see what you feel for her, and I hate to know you're so upset."
"Then you'd best be off, as I'm planning on staying this way. Move back, damn