Born in Shame

by Nora Roberts

  Stalling, Shannon reached in her purse for her wallet. "A woman can buy a gift for a man without being in love with him."

  "Not with that look in her eyes she can't. What are you going to do about it?"

  "There's nothing I can do." Shannon caught herself, frowned, and selected her credit card. "I'm thinking it over."

  "He's not a man to take love casually, or temporarily."

  The words, and the knowledge that they were fact, frightened her. "Don't push me on this, Maggie." Rather than the snap she'd hoped for, there was a plea in Shannon's voice. "It's complicated, and I'm doing the best I know how to do."

  Her eyes lifted in surprise when Maggie laid a hand on her cheek. "It's hard, isn't it, to fall where you've never been, and never really thought you'd be?"

  "Yes. It's terribly hard."

  Maggie let her hand slide down and rest on Shannon's shoulder. "Well," she said in a lighter tone, "He's going to trip over his tongue when you hand him this. Where's the bloody clerk? Rogan'll skin me if I don't have you there at three on the damn dot."

  "Yeah, you look like you're terrified of him."

  "Sometimes I let him think I am. It's a kiss on the ego, so to speak."

  Shannon toyed with a display of harmonicas on the counter. "You haven't asked me if I'm going to sign."

  "It's been pointed out that it's business not concerning me."

  Shannon gave a smile and her credit card to the clerk when he returned. "Is that a kiss on my ego, Margaret Mary?"

  "Be grateful it's not a boot to your ass."

  "I'm signing," Shannon blurted out. "I don't know if I decided just this instant or the moment he asked, but I'm doing it." Swallowing hard, she pressed a shaky hand to her stomach. "Now I'm queasy."

  "I had a similar reaction under the same circumstances. You've just put your wheel in someone else's hands." Sympathetic, she slipped an arm around Shannon's waist. "He'll do right by you."

  "I know. I'm not sure if I'll do right by him." She watched the clerk box up the dulcimer. "It's a problem I seem to be having just lately with men I've come to care about."

  "I tell you how we're handling this one, Shannon. We're going to Rogan's fine, upstanding office and getting the business part over and done quick. That's the worst part of it, I can tell you."

  "Okay." She took the pen the clerk offered, mechanically signed her name to the credit slip.

  "Then we're going back home and cracking open a bottle of Sweeney's best champagne."

  "You can't drink. You're pregnant."

  "You're doing the drinking. A whole bottle of French bubbly just for you. 'Cause, darling, I'm of the opinion that you're going to get drunk for the second time in your life."

  Shannon blew out a breath that fluttered her bangs. "You could be right."

  Maggie couldn't have been more right. A few hours later, Shannon found that all the doubts and worries and questions simply fizzed away with a bottle of Dom Perignon.

  Maggie was the over-indulger's friend, listening as Shannon rambled, making sympathetic noises as she complained, and laughing at the poorest of jokes.

  When Rogan arrived home, Shannon was sitting dreamy-eyed in the parlor contemplating the last glass that could be squeezed from the bottle.

  "What have you done to her, Margaret Mary?" "She's well fuddled." Satisfied, Maggie lifted her mouth for his kiss.

  He lifted a brow at the empty bottle. "Small wonder." "She needed to relax," Maggie said airily. "And to celebrate, though you'd never be able to tell her so. You're feeling fine, aren't you, Shannon?"

  "Fine and dandy." She smiled brilliantly. "Hello, Rogan, when did you get here? They warned me about you, y'know," she went on before he could answer. "Did they?"

  "They certainly did. Rogan Sweeney's slick as spit." She tipped the glass back again, swallowed hastily. "And you are."

  "Take it as a compliment, darling," Maggie advised. "That's how it's meant."

  "Oh, it is," Shannon agreed. "There's not one shark in New York who could outswim you. And you're so pretty, too." She hoisted herself up, chuckling when her head revolved. When he would have taken her arm to steady her, she simply leaned in and gave him a loud, smacking kiss. "I've got such cute brothers, don't I, Maggie? Just as cute as buttons."

  "Darling men." Maggie's grin was wide and wicked. "Both of them. Would you like a little nap now, Shannon?"

  "Nope." Beaming, Shannon snatched up her glass. "Look, there's more. I'll just take it with me while I make a call. I need to make a call. A private call, if you don't mind."

  "And who are you after calling?" Maggie asked.

  "I'm after calling Mr. Murphy Muldoon, in County Clare, Ireland."

  "I'll just come along," Maggie suggested, "and dial the number for you."

  "I'm perfectly capable. I have his number right in my trusty little electronic organizer. I never go anywhere without it." With the glass dangling dangerously from her hand, she looked around the room. "Where'd it go? No up and coming professional can survive without their organizer."

  "I'm sure it's about." With a wink for Rogan, Maggie took Shannon's arm and led her away. "But it happens I have the number right in my head."

  "You're so clever, Maggie. I noticed that about you right away-even when I wanted to punch you."

  "That's nice. You can sit right here in Rogan's big chair and talk to Murphy all you like."

  "He's got an incredible body. Murphy, I mean." Giggling, Shannon dropped into the chair behind Rogan's library desk. "Though I'm sure Rogan's is lovely, too."

  "I can promise you it is. Here, you talk into this end and listen in this one."

  "I know how to use a phone. I'm a professional. Murphy?"

  "I haven't finished calling yet. I'm an amateur."

  "That's all right. It's ringing now. There's Murphy. Hi, Murphy." She cradled the phone like a lover and didn't notice when Maggie slipped out. "Shannon? I'm glad you called. I was thinking of you."

  "I'm always thinking of you. It's the damnedest thing."

  "You sound a bit strange? Are you all right?"

  "I'm wonderful. I love you, Murphy."

  "What?" His voice rose half an octave. "What?"

  "I'm so buzzed."

  "You're what? Shannon, go back two steps and start again."

  "The last time I was a freshman in college and it was Homecoming and there was all this wine. Oceans of it. I got so awful sick, too. But I don't feel sick at all this time. I just feel..." She sent the chair spinning and nearly strangled herself with the phone cord. "Alive."

  "Christ, what has Maggie done to you?" he muttered. "Are you drunk?"

  "I think so." To test she held up two fingers in front of her face. "Pretty sure. I wish you were here, Murphy, right here so I could crawl in your lap and nibble you all over."

  There was a moment of pained silence. "That would be memorable," he said in a voice tight with strain. "Shannon, you said you loved me."

  "You know I do. It's all mixed up with white horses and copper broaches and thunderstorms and making love in the dance and cursing at the moon." She let her head fall back in the chair as the visions flowed and circled in her head. "Casting spells," she murmured. "Winning battles. I don't know what to do. I can't think about it."

  "We'll talk it through when you get back. Shannon, have you called me from across the entire country, drunk on-what are you drunk on?"

  "Champagne. Rogan's finest French champagne."

  "Figures. Drunk on champagne," he repeated, "to tell me for the first time that you love me?"

  "It seemed like a good idea at the time. You have a wonderful voice." She kept her heavy eyes closed. "I could listen to it forever. I bought you a present." "That's nice. Tell me again." "I bought you a present." At his frustrated snarl, she

  opened her eyes and laughed. "Oh, I get it. I'm not stupid. Suma cum laude, you know. I love you, Murphy, and it really messes things up all around, but I love you. Good night."

  "Shannon-"


  But she was aiming for the phone, with one eye closed. Through more luck than skill, she managed to jiggle the receiver in place. Then she leaned back, yawned once, and went to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  "And the next morning, not a stagger, not a wince." While she sipped tea in Brianna's kitchen, Maggie shot Shannon an admiring glance. "I couldn't have been more proud."

  "You have an odd sense of pride." But Shannon felt an odd flare of it herself. Through luck or God's pity, she'd escaped the punishment of a hangover after her romance with Dom Perignon.

  Twenty-four hours after the affair had ended, she was safely back in Clare and enjoying the questionable distinction of having a hard head.

  "You shouldn't have let her overdo." Brianna began to swirl a rich and smooth marshmallow frosting over chocolate cake.

  "She's a woman grown," Maggie objected.

  "And the youngest."

  "Oh, really." Shannon rolled her eyes at Brianna's back. "I hardly think that's an issue. You and I were born in the same year, so..." She trailed off as the full impact of what she'd said struck. Her brows knit, and she stared down at a spot on the table. Well, she thought. This is awkward.

  "Busy year for Da," Maggie said after a long silence.

  Shocked, Shannon looked up quickly and met Maggie's bland eyes. The sound of her own muffled snort of laughter surprised her nearly as much as Maggie's lightning grin. Brianna continued to frost her cake.

  "An entire bottle, Maggie," Brianna went on in a quiet, lecturing tone. "You should have had more care."

  "Well, I looked after her, didn't I? After she'd passed out in the library-"

  "I didn't pass out," Shannon corrected primly. "I was resting."

  "Unconscious." Maggie reached over to pick up her niece when Kayla began to fuss in her carrier. "And poor Murphy ringing back like a man possessed. Who talked him out of hopping in his lorry and driving all the way to Dublin if it wasn't me?" she asked Kayla. "And didn't I take her upstairs and see that she ate a bowl of soup before she slept the rest of it off?"

  Her ears pricked up. "There's Liam awake." She passed the baby to Shannon, then went through to Brianna's bedroom, where she'd laid him down for a nap.

  Brianna stepped back to judge the frosting job before she turned. "Other than last evening, did you enjoy your trip to Dublin?"

  "Yes. It's a lovely city. And the gallery there-it's a religious experience."

  "I've thought so myself. You've yet to see the one here in Clare. I was hoping we could all go, a kind of outing. Soon."

  "I'd like that. Brianna..." She wasn't sure she was ready to ask. Far less sure she was ready for the consequences.

  "Is something troubling you?" "I think-I'd like to see the letters." She said it quickly before her courage evaporated. "The letters my mother wrote."

  "Of course." Brianna laid a hand, support and comfort, on Shannon's shoulder. "I've kept them in my dresser. Why don't you come into the family parlor, and you can read them."

  But before Shannon could rise, there was a commotion in the hall. Voices fussed and clashed causing the hand on Shannon's shoulder to tense once, briefly. "It's Mother," she murmured. "And Lottie." "It's all right." Not at all sure if she was disappointed or relieved, Shannon patted Brianna's hand. "I'll look at them later." She braced for whatever form the confrontation would take.

  Maeve swept in first, still arguing. "I tell you I'll not ask. If you've no pride yourself, I can't stop you from it." She caught sight of Shannon holding her granddaughter and lifted her chin.

  "Well, you're very much to home, I see." "Yes, I am. Brianna makes it impossible to be otherwise. Hello, Mrs. Sullivan."

  "Oh, Lottie, dear. You just call me Lottie like everyone. And how's my angel today?" She bent over Kayla, cooing. "Look here, Maeve, she's smiling."