“And it’s grateful those people are that you don’t. Fix yourself a bit of a sandwich or something, Margaret Mary,” she added as she breezed into the kitchen. “You’re looking peaked.”

“I am not.” Grumbling but hungry, Maggie headed for the bread drawer. “I’m looking pregnant.”

Brianna froze in midstride. “What? Oh, Maggie.”

“And it’s your fault if I am,” Maggie muttered, brows knitted as she sliced through the fresh brown bread.

Laughing, Brianna swung over to give her sister a hard hug. “Well, now, that’s an intriguing statement, and one I’m sure medical authorities worldwide would be interested in.”

Maggie tilted her head, and there was humor in her eyes. “Who just had a baby, I ask you? And who had me holding that beautiful little girl barely minutes after she was born so that I went a bit crazy in the head?”

“You’re not upset, really, that you might be having another baby?” Brianna stepped back, worrying her lip. “Rogan’s pleased, isn’t he?”

“I haven’t told him yet. I’m a ways from being sure. But I feel it.” Instinctively she pressed a hand to her stomach. “And no, I’m not upset, I’m only teasing you. I’m hoping.” She gave Brianna a quick pat on the cheek and went back to her sandwich building. “I was queasy this morning.”

“Oh.” Tears sprang to Brianna’s eyes. “That’s wonderful.”

With a grunt Maggie went to the refrigerator. “I’m just loony enough to agree with you. Don’t say anything yet, even to Gray, until I’m sure of it.”

“I won’t—if you’ll have that sandwich sitting down and drink some tea with it.”

“Not a bad deal. Go on, feed my niece, change your clothes, or we’ll be late to the airport picking up the queen.”

Brianna started to snap back, drew a deep breath instead, and slipped through the door that adjoined her rooms with the kitchen.

Those rooms had been expanded since her marriage the year before. The second floor of the main house, and the converted attic, were for the guests who came and went in Blackthorn Cottage. But here, off the kitchen, was for family.

The little parlor and bedroom had been enough when it had only been Brianna. Now a second bedroom, a bright, sunwashed nursery had been added on, with its wide double windows facing the hills and overlooking the young flowering almond Murphy had planted for her on the day Kayla was born.

Above the crib, catching pretty glints of sunlight, was the mobile, the glass menagerie Maggie had made, with its unicorns and winged horses and mermaids. Beneath the dance, staring up at the lights and movements, the baby stirred.

“There’s my love,” Brianna murmured. And the rush still came, the flood of emotions and wonder. Her child. At last, her child. “Are you watching the lights, darling? So pretty they are, and so clever is your aunt Maggie.”

She gathered Kayla up, drawing in the scent, absorbing the feel of baby. “You’re going to meet another aunt today. Your aunt Shannon from America. Won’t that be grand?”

With the baby curled in one arm, Brianna unbuttoned her blouse as she settled in the rocker. She glanced once at the ceiling, smiling, knowing Gray was above in his studio. Writing, she thought, of murder and mayhem.

“There you are,” she cooed, thrilling as Kayla’s mouth rooted, then suckled at her breast. “And when you’re all fed and changed, you’ll be good for your da while I’m gone, just a little while. You’ve grown so already. It’s only a month, you know. A month today.”

Gray watched them from the doorway, overwhelmed and humbled. No one could have told him, no one could have explained how it would feel to see his wife, his child. To have a wife and child. Kayla’s fist rested on the curve of her mother’s breast, ivory against ivory. The sun played gently on their hair, nearly identical shade for shade. They watched each other, linked in a way he could only imagine.

Then Brianna glanced up, smiled. “I thought you were working.”

“I heard you on the intercom.” He gestured to the small monitor. He’d insisted they put them throughout the house. He crossed to them, crouched beside the rocker. “My ladies are so beautiful.”

With a light laugh Brianna leaned forward. “Kiss me, Grayson.”

He did, lingering over it, then shifted to brush his lips over Kayla’s head. “She’s hungry.”

“Has her father’s appetite.” Which turned her thoughts to more practical matters. “I left you some cold meat, and the bread’s fresh this morning. If there’s time, I’ll fix you something before I go.”

“Don’t worry about it. And if any of the guests come back from their ramblings before you do, I’ll put out the scones and make tea.”

“You’re becoming a fine hotelier, Grayson. Still, I don’t want you to interrupt your work.”

“The work’s going fine.”

“I can tell that. You’re not scowling, and I haven’t heard you pacing the floor upstairs for days.”

“There’s a murder-suicide,” he said with a wink. “Or what appears to be. It’s cheered me up.” Idly he traced a finger over her breast, just above his daughter’s head. Since his eyes were on Brianna’s he had the satisfaction of seeing the quick jolt of pleasure reflected in her eyes. “When I make love with you again, Brianna, it’s going to be like the first time.”

She let out an unsteady breath. “I don’t think it’s fair to seduce me when I’m nursing our daughter.”

“It’s fair to seduce you anytime.” He held up his hand, letting the sunlight glint off the gold of his wedding ring. “We’re married.”

“Put your glands on hold, Grayson Thane,” Maggie called out from the next room. “We’ve less than twenty minutes before we have to leave for the airport.”

“Spoilsport,” he muttered, but grinned as he rose. “I suppose I’ll have two of your sisters hounding me now.”

But Gray was the last thing on Shannon’s mind. She could see Ireland below from the window of the plane, the green of its fields, the black of its cliffs. It was beautiful, awesomely so, and oddly familiar.

She was already wishing she hadn’t come.