Born in Shame
Page 20

“Talking.” She shut her eyes as she waited for her heart to stop thudding. “Talking dogs, that’s all the evening needed.” Then Con padded over and, laying his head in her lap, looked soulfully into her face. Even an iceberg would have melted. “So, now you’re apologizing, I suppose, for scaring me out of my skin.” She lifted her gaze to Murphy. “The two of you are quite a pair.”
“I suppose we can both be clumsy at times.” In a graceful move that belied the words, he drew a clutch of wildflowers from behind his back. “Welcome to the county of Clare, Shannon Bodine. May your stay be as sweet and colorful as the blooms, and last longer.”
Flabbergasted, and damn it, charmed, she took the cheerful blossoms from him. “I thought you were an odd man, Murphy,” she murmured. “It seems I was right.” But her lips were curved as she rose. “Thank you.”
“Now, that’s something I’ll look forward to. Your smile,” he told her when she only lifted her brows. “It’s worth waiting for. Good night, Shannon. Sleep well.”
He walked away, turned again into a shadow. When the dog began to follow, he said something soft that had Con holding back and turning to wait by Shannon’s side.
As the fragrance of the blossoms she held teased her senses, the man called Murphy melted into the night.
“So much for first impressions,” Shannon said to the dog, then shook her head. “I think it’s time to go in. I must be more tired than I’d thought.”
Chapter Six
Storms and white horses. Brutally handsome men and a circle of standing stones.
Pursued by dreams, Shannon had not spent a peaceful night.
And she woke freezing. That was odd, she thought, as the coals in the little fireplace across the room still glowed red, and she herself was buried to the chin under a thick, downy quilt. Yet her skin was icy to the point of making her shiver to warm it.
What was odder still was that she wasn’t merely cold. Until she felt her face for herself, she would have sworn she was wet—as if she’d been standing out in the middle of a rainstorm.
She sat up in bed, dragging her hands through her hair. Never before in her life had she experienced dreams with such clarity, and wasn’t sure she wanted it to become a habit.
But dreams and restless nights aside, she was awake now. From experience she knew there would be no cuddling back into the pillow and drifting off. Back in New York, that wouldn’t have been so frustrating. There were always dozens of things that needed to be done, and she typically woke early to get a jump on the day.
There was always an account to work on, paperwork to deal with, or simple domestic chores to accomplish before heading to the office. Those done, she’d have checked her electronic organizer to see what appointments and duties were scheduled for the day—what social entertainments were on line for the evening. The morning show on television would provide her with a weather update, and any current news before she picked up her briefcase, and her gym bag depending on the day of the week, and set off for the brisk six-block walk to her office.
The satisfied, organized life of the young professional on the way up the corporate ladder. It had been precisely the same routine for over five years.
But here . . . With a sigh, she looked toward the window where the western sky was still dark. There were no deadlines, no appointments, no presentations to be given. She’d taken a break from the structure that was so familiar, and therefore comforting.
What did a person do in the Irish countryside at dawn? After crawling out of bed, she went over to poke at the fire, then padded over to the window seat to curl on its cushions.
She could make out the fields, the shadows of stone walls, the outline of a house and outbuildings, as the sky gradually lightened from indigo to a softer blue. With some amusement she heard the crow of a rooster.
Maybe she would take Brianna up on the offer of the use of her car and drive somewhere. Anywhere. This part of Ireland was famed for its scenery. Shannon thought she might as well get a look at it while she was here. Perhaps she’d use the location and the vacation time to paint if the mood struck her.
In the bath she pulled the circular curtain around the claw-foot tub and found, with pleasure, the water from the shower was hot and plentiful. She chose a dark turtleneck and jeans and nearly picked up her purse before she realized she’d have no need for it until she made transportation arrangements.
Deciding to take Brianna’s invitation to make herself at home to heart, she started downstairs to brew coffee.
The house was so quiet she could almost believe she was alone. She knew there were guests on the second floor, but Shannon heard nothing but the quiet creak of the stair under her own feet as she walked down to the first floor.
It was the new view that stopped her, the window facing east that framed the stunning break of dawn. The roll of clouds on the horizon was thick, layered, and shot with swirling red. The bold color spread into the sky, beating back the more soothing blues and tamer pinks with licks of fire. Even as she watched, the clouds moved, sailing like a flaming ship as the sky slowly lightened.
For the first time in months she found herself actively wanting to paint. It had been habit more than desire that had had her packing some of her equipment. She was grateful now, and wondered how far she would have to drive to buy what other supplies she might need.
Pleased with the idea, and the prospect of a genuine activity, she wandered back toward the kitchen.
Finding Brianna already there and wrist deep in bread dough was more of a surprise than it should have been. “I thought I would be the first up.”
“Good morning. You’re an early riser.” Brianna smiled as she continued to knead her dough. “So’s Kayla, and she wakes hungry. There’s coffee, or tea if you like. I’ve already brewed it for Grayson.”
“He’s up, too?” So much, Shannon thought, for a solitary morning.
“Oh, he got up hours ago to work. He does that sometimes when the story’s worrying him. I’ll fix you breakfast once I set the bread to rise.”
“No, coffee’s fine.” After she’d poured a cup, Shannon stood awkwardly, wondering what to do next. “You bake your own bread?”
“I do, yes. It’s a soothing process. You’ll have toast at least. There’s a hunk of yesterday’s still in the drawer.”
“A little later. I was thinking I might drive around a bit, see the cliffs or something.”