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 paté, 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.”

Since Maggie was busy with Liam and all Murphy seemed capable of doing was staring at her, Shannon felt no qualms about ignoring them in favor of Gray. “Brianna told me you came here to research a book. Does that mean your next one’s set here?”

“Yeah. It’s coming out in a couple of months.”

“I’ll look forward to it. I enjoy your books very much.”

“I’ll see you get an advanced copy.” When the baby began to fuss, Gray lifted her out and into the curve of his arm where she fell cozily silent again.

Shannon nibbled on her sandwich—which was good, certainly and filled the hole she hadn’t realized hunger had dug. Satisfied but not overly impressed, she nipped into a tart.

Her whole system signaled pleasure of the most acute and sinful.

Gray merely grinned when her eyes drifted half closed. “Who needs heaven, right?”

“Don’t interrupt,” she murmured, “I’m having an epiphany.”

“Yeah, there’s something religious about Brie’s pastries all right.” Gray helped himself to another.

“Pig.” Maggie wrinkled her nose at him. “Leave some for me to take home to Rogan at least.”

“Why don’t you learn to make your own?”

“Why should I?” Smug, Maggie licked cream from her thumb. “I’ve only to walk up the road to have yours.”

“You live nearby?” Shannon felt her pleasure dim at the idea.

“Just down the road.” Maggie’s thin smile indicated she understood Shannon’s sentiments completely.

“Rogan drags her off periodically,” Gray put in. “To Dublin or one of their galleries. Things are more peaceful then.” He snuck Liam a sugar cookie.

“But I’m here often enough to keep an eye on things, and to see that Brianna isn’t overtaxed.”