Books by Nora Roberts

by Roberts, Nora

  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 aroun
d 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."

  "I thought this Murphy was a farmer."

  "He is, yes. But he's handy about all manner of things."

  "Oh." Shannon's smile widened at the small, gleaming room with its claw-foot tub and pedestal sink and fussy fingertip towels hanging over brass rods. "It's like a doll house."

  "It is, yes." Nervous as she would have been with no other guest, Brianna linked her hands together. "Shall I help you unpack, or would you rather have a rest first?"

  "I don't need help, thank you. I might make use of that tub."

  "Be at home then. There's extra towels in that little trunk, and I think you'll find everything else you'd be needing." She hesitated again. "Would you want me to bring you up a tray at teatime?"

  It would have been easier to agree, Shannon thought. She could have snuggled into the room alone and blocked out everything else.

  "No, I'll come down."

  "Take all the time you need." Brianna laid a hand on Shannon's arm to let her know the statement didn't refer only to having tea. "I'll be just downstairs if you want anything."

  "Thank you."

  When the door closed behind Brianna, Shannon sat on the edge of the bed. In private she could let her shoulders droop and her eyes close.

  She was in Ireland, and hadn't a clue what to do next.

  Chapter Five

  "So what's she like, this Yank sister of yours?" As at home as he would have been in his own kitchen, Murphy Muldoon helped himself to one of the cream tarts Brianna was arranging on a tray.

  He was a tall man who tended toward lankiness. He'd taken off his cap when he'd come into the kitchen, as his mother had taught him, and his dark hair was tousled from the fingers he'd raked through them, and in need

  of a trim.

  "Keep your fingers off," she ordered, swatting at them. "Wait until I'm serving."

  "I might not get all I want then." He grinned at her, dark blue eyes dancing, before stuffing the tart in his mouth. "Is she as pretty as you, Brie?"

  "Flattery won't get you another tart before tea." But there was a laugh at the edge of her voice. "Pretty isn't the word for her. She's beautiful. Her hair's calmer than Maggie's, more like the hide on that chestnut mare you love so. Her eyes are like Da's were-though she wouldn't like to hear that-the clearest of greens. She's about my height, slim. And... sleek, I suppose you'd say. Even after the traveling she hardly looked rumpled at all."

  "Maggie says she's a cold one." Since Brianna was guarding the tarts like a hen with one chick, Murphy settled for tea.

  "She's reserved," Brianna corrected. "It's that Maggie doesn't want to like her. And there's a sadness about her she hides with coolness." And that Brianna understood perfectly. "But she smiled, really smiled, when we came up over the road where the valley spreads out."

  "It's a fair sight, that." Murphy moved his shoulders as he poured his tea. His back was aching a bit, for he'd been plowing since dawn. But it was a good ache, a solid day's-work ache. "She wouldn't see the like of it in New York City."

  "You always speak of New York as if it were another planet instead of across the sea."

  "It's as far as the moon as far as I'm concerned."

  With a laugh, Brianna glanced over her shoulder at him. He was more handsome than even he'd been as a boy. And the women of the village had talked of his angel face in those days. Now there was a good bit of the devil as well to add impact to those vivid blue eyes and quick, crooked smile.

  The outdoor life he led suited him, and over the years his face had fined down to a kind of sculpted leanness that drew women's eyes. A fact that he didn't mind a bit. His unruly thatch of black waves defied proper combing. His body was tough, with muscled arms, broad shoulders, narrow hips. Brianna knew first hand that he was as strong as one of his beloved horses, and a great deal more gentle.

  Despite the strength and ruggedness, there was something poetic about him. A dreaming in the eyes, she thought with affection.

  "What are you looking at?" He wiped a hand over his chin. "Have I cream on my face?"

  "No, I was thinking what a shame it is you haven't found a woman to share your pretty face with."

  Though he grinned, he shifted with some embarrassment. "Why is it whenever a woman marries she thinks everyone should do the same?"

  "Because she's happy." She looked down to where Kayla sat contentedly in her infant chair. "Don't you think she's looking more like Grayson?"

  "She's the image of you. Aren't you, Kayla love?" He bent over to tickle the baby's chin. "What are you doing about your mother, Brie?"

  "Nothing, at the moment." Wishing she didn't have to think of it, she gripped her hands together. "She'll have to be told, of course, but I want to give Shannon time to relax before that storm hits."

  "It'll be a gale of some proportion. Are you sure she knows nothing about the matter? Has no idea there was another woman, or a child because of her?"

  "As sure as I am of my own name." Brianna sighed and went back to setting up family tea. "You know how things were between them. If Mother had known, she'd have hounded him to death over it."

  "That's true enough. Brie." Murphy skimmed his knuckles down her cheek until she looked back at him again. "Don't take it all on yourself. You're not alone in this."

  "I know that. But it's worrying, Murphy. Things are still strained between Mother and me, and they've never been smooth between her and Maggie. I don't know how much worse this will make it. Yet there's nothing else we could do. Da would have wanted her to come, and have a chance to know her family."

  "Then rest easy for a while." With his cup still in one hand, he cuddled her with the other and bent to touch his lips to her cheek.

  Then his world turned upside down.

  The vision stood in the doorway, watching through cool and glorious green eyes. Her skin was like the alabaster he'd read of, and looked as soft as fresh milk. Her hair shone as it followed the lines of her face to sweep the chin that was lifted high.

  The fairy queen, was all he could think. And the spell was on him.

  "Oh, Shannon." A flush heated Brianna's cheeks as she spotted her half sister. How much had she heard? Brianna wondered. And how to handle it? "Tea's nearly ready. I thought we'd have it in here. I'll serve the guests in the parlor."

  "The kitchen's fine." She'd heard plenty, and would take time to decide just how to handle it herself. Just now her attention was focused on the man who was gaping at her as though he'd never seen a female before.

  "Shannon Bodine, this is our good friend and neighbor Murphy Muldoon."

  "How do you do?"

  Coherent speech seemed to have deserted him. He nodded, only dimly aware that he probably resembled a slow-witted fool.

  "Murphy, would you tell the others tea's ready?"

  When she received no response, Brianna glanced up at him. "Murphy?"

  "What?" He blinked, cleared his throat, shuffled. "Aye, I'll tell them." He tore his eyes from the vision and stared blankly at Brianna. "Tell who what?"

  With a laugh, Brianna gave him a shove toward the door. "You can't go to sleep on your feet like one of your horses. Go out and tell Grayson and Maggie and Liam we're having tea." One last push and he was out of the door with her shutting it behind him. "He's been working since sunrise, I'll wager, and tuckered. Murphy's usually a bit sharper than that." Shannon doubted it. "He's a farmer?" "He's a fine one, and he's breeding horses, too. He's like a brother to Maggie and me." Her eyes leveled with Shannon's again. "There's nothing I can't share with Murphy and trust it stays with him."

  "I see." Shannon stayed where she was, just on the other side of the threshold. "So you felt you could tell him about this particular situation."

  With a quiet sigh, Brianna
brought the teapot to the table. "You don't know me, Shannon, nor Murphy, nor any of us. It isn't fair for me to ask you to trust people you've only just met. So I won't. Instead, I'll ask you to sit down and enjoy your tea."

  Intrigued, Shannon tilted her head. "You can be a cool one."

  "Maggie's got all the fire." "She doesn't like me." "Not at the moment."

  Shannon had the oddest urge to laugh, and gave in to it. "That's fine. I don't like her, either. What's for tea?" "Finger sandwiches, cheese, and a bit of pate, sugar biscuits, scones, cream tarts, apple cake."

  Shannon stepped in, surveying the spread. "You do this every afternoon?"

  "I like to cook." Smiling again, Brianna wiped her hands on her apron. "And I wanted your first day to be special for you."

  "You're determined, aren't you?"

  "There's a stubborn streak in the family. Ah, here they come. Maggie, see the lads wash their hands, would you? I have to serve in the parlor."

  "Cream tarts." Gray pounced. "Where'd you hide them?"

  "You'll not eat my food with dirty fingers," Brianna said calmly as she finished loading a rolling tea tray. "Help yourself, Shannon. I'll be back as soon as I've seen to my guests."

  "Sit." Maggie waved to the table as soon as she'd washed her son off in the sink. She plopped Liam down in a high chair, gave him a toast finger to munch on. "Will you have sugar in your tea?"

  "No, thank you," Shannon returned, equally stiff. "Just black."

  "You're in for a treat," Gray said as he piled his plate. "New York may have some of the best restaurants in the world, but you've never eaten anything like Brianna's cooking. You're with Ry-Tilghmanton?" he asked, taking it on himself to heap Shannon's plate himself.

  "Yes-oh, not so much-I've been there over five years."

  "They've got a good rep. Top of the line." Happily he bit into a sandwich. "Where'd you train?"

  "Carnegie Mellon."

  "Mmm. Can't do better. There's this bakery in Pittsburgh, maybe a half mile from the college. Little Jewish couple runs it. They make these rum cakes."

  "I know the place." It made her smile to think of it, and easy to talk to another American. "I hit it every Sunday morning for four years."