Born in Shame (5 page)

“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.

Castle ruins, tumbling stones, and a sheer, high wall, stood in a field as if that spot were locked in a time warp.

The sun struck it all like gold, and glinted off a thin ribbon of silver river.

And all of it, every blade of grass was cupped under a sky so achingly blue it seemed to pulse.

For the first time in days she forgot grief, and guilt and worry. She could only stare with a smile blooming on her face, and the oddest feeling in her heart that she had known this, just exactly this, would be there all along.

“It is beautiful, isn't it?” Brianna murmured and
slowed the car to give Shannon another moment to enjoy.

“Yes. I've never seen anything more beautiful. I can see why my mother loved it.”

And that thought brought the grief stabbing back, so that she turned her gaze away again.

But the new view was no less charming. Blackthorn Cottage waited to welcome, windows glinting, stone flecked with mica that sparkled. A glory of a garden spread beyond the hedges that were waiting to burst into a bloom of their own.

A dog barked in greeting as soon as Brianna pulled up behind a spiffy Mercedes convertible.

“That'll be Concobar, my dog,” she explained and laughed when Shannon's eyes widened as Con raced around the side of the house. “He's big, is Con, but he's harmless. You haven't a fear of dogs, have you?”

“Not normally.”

“Sit now,” Brianna ordered when she stepped out of the car. “And show your manners.”

The dog obeyed instantly, his thick gray tail pounding the ground to show his pleasure and his control. He looked over at Shannon as she cautiously alighted, then he lifted a paw.

“Okay.” Shannon took a deep breath and accepted the canine handshake. “Handsome, aren't you?” A little more confident, she patted his head. She glanced over and saw that Maggie and Brianna were already unloading her luggage. “I'll get those.”

“It's no problem, no problem at all.” With surprising ease for such a slender woman, Brianna hauled suitcases toward the door of the house. “Welcome to Blackthorn Cottage, Shannon. I hope you'll be comfortable here.”

With this, she opened the front door and pandemonium.

“Come back here, you little devil! I mean it, Liam. She's going to have my scalp.”

As Shannon watched, a black-haired toddler scrambled down the hall on short, but surprisingly quick legs, trailing crumbs from a handful of cookies. His gut-busting laughter echoed off the walls. Not far behind was a very harassed-looking man with a small, wailing baby tucked in one arm.

Spotting company, the boy grinned, showing an angelic face smeared with food. He tossed up his chubby arms. “Mum.”

“Mum, indeed.” With an expert swipe Maggie had her son scooped into one arm. “Look at you, Liam Sweeney, not a clean spot to be found on you. And eating biscuits before tea.”

He grinned, blue eyes dancing. “Kiss.”

“Just like your father. Kisses fix everything.” But she obliged him before turning to aim a killing look at Gray. “So, what have you to say for yourself, Grayson Thane?”

“I plead insanity.” He shifted the baby, patting, soothing, even as he dragged his hair out of his eyes. “It's not my fault. Rogan got called into the gallery, and Murphy's out plowing something, so I was drafted to watch that twenty-pound disaster. Then the baby was crying, and Liam got into the cookies. Ah, the kitchen, Brie, you don't want to go in there.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Trust me on this. And the parlor's kind of . . . well, we were just playing around. I'll buy you a new vase.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Not my Waterford.”

“Ah . . .” Taking help where he could find it, Gray turned his attention to Shannon. “Hi. Sorry about this. I'm Gray.”

“Nice to meet you.” She jerked a little as Con rushed past her legs to take advantage of the crumbs littering
the floor. Then jerked again when Liam leaned over and took a handful of her hair.

“Kiss,” he ordered.

“Oh.” Shannon's heart sank a little. Gingerly she pecked his pursed and smeared lips. “Chocolate chip.”

“I made them yesterday.” Taking pity on her husband, Brianna slipped Kayla into her arms. “And from the looks of it, there's none left but for the crumbs.”

“I was just distracting the kid,” Gray said in his own defense. “Kayla needed to be changed, and the phone was ringing. Jesus, Brie, how can two of them be more than twice as much work as one?”

“It's just one of those unfathomable mysteries. Redeem yourself, Grayson, and take Shannon's bags to her room, if you please?”

“No problem. It's really a quiet place,” he assured her. “Usually. Ah, Brie, I'll explain about that spot on the parlor rug later.”

Brows knit, Brie took a few steps forward, viewed the chaos of the room she'd left meticulously neat. “Be sure you will. Shannon, I'm sorry.”

“It's all right.” In fact, it was more so. The noisy welcome had done more to relax her than any smooth manners could have. “This is your baby?”

“Our daughter, Kayla.” She stepped back so that Shannon could have a better look. “She's a month old today.”

“She's beautiful.” A little more stiffly, she turned back to Maggie. “And your son?”

“Such as he is. Liam, say good day to . . .” She trailed off, stumped. “To Miss Bodine,” she decided.

“Shannon.” Determined not to be awkward, Shannon offered a smile. “Good day to you, Liam.”

He responded with something that would have
required an interpreter, but the grin needed no translation.

“I'm going to clean him up, Brie. Let me have Kayla, and I'll tend them while you show Shannon her room.”

“I'm grateful.” She passed Kayla over so that Maggie headed toward the kitchen with a child in each arm.

“Chocolate,” Liam demanded, quite clearly.

“Not on your life, boy-o,” was his mother's response.

“Well.” Brianna lifted her hand to her hair, which was slipping out of its pins. “Let's get you settled. I've put you in the loft room. It's two floors up, but it's the most private and the most special.” She glanced over as they started upstairs. “If you'd rather not have so many stairs to deal with, I can change it in no time.”

“I don't mind the stairs.” She found herself uncomfortable again. Odd, she mused, how much easier it was to deal with Maggie's abrasive challenge than Brianna's open welcome.

“The room's only been ready for a few months. I had the attic converted, you see.”

“It's a beautiful house.”

“Thank you. Some of the changes to it I made after my father died and left it to me. That's when I started the B and B. Then when I married Grayson we needed more room still, for a studio for his writing, and a nursery. Our rooms are on the first floor, off the kitchen.”

“Where's Kayla?” Gray wanted to know when he met them on the stairs on his way down.

“Maggie has her.” In a move so natural and of such long habit she barely noticed, Brianna lifted a hand to his cheek. “You should go for a walk, Grayson, clear your head a bit.”

“I think I will. It's nice to have you here, Shannon.”

“Thank you.” She lifted her brow when Gray kissed
his wife. It didn't seem quite the casual kiss a husband might give before going off on a walk.

“I'll be back for tea,” he promised and trooped off.

Brianna led the way to the next floor where a door was already open wide in invitation.

The room was more than anything Shannon could have expected. Wide and airy with a charming window seat set under the sloping eaves of one wall, and a big brass bed tucked beneath the other. Skylights and pretty arched windows let in the sun and the spring air. The lacy curtains billowed and matched the creamy spread.

Fresh flowers were waiting to be sniffed, and every surface gleamed.

She smiled, as she had when she'd seen the valley. “It's lovely. Really lovely, Brianna.”

“I had it in mind for a kind of special place. You can see to Murphy's farm and beyond from the windows there.”

“Murphy?”

“Oh, he's a friend, a neighbor. Murphy Muldoon. His land starts just beyond my garden wall. You'll be meeting him. He's around the house quite a bit.” Brianna roamed the room as she spoke, fussing with lamp shades, twitching at the bedspread. “And this room's more private than the other rooms, a little bigger than most as well. The bath is just here. Grayson read some books, and he and Murphy designed it between them.”