Born in Shame
Page 78
“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’ll 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.
“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’ll 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.
