To calm herself, or try, she turned to heat the kettle. “But I’ll ask you, and you might be honest since it’s only us two, if you haven’t thought close to the same of my father as I just said of your mother.”

The accuracy of the question had Shannon backing off. “If I did, at least I was too polite to articulate it.”

“Seems to me politeness and hypocrisy run too often hand in hand.” Pleased by the quick hiss that drew out of Shannon, Maggie reached for the canister of tea. “So let’s have neither between us. Circumstances mean we share blood, a fact that doesn’t please either of us overmuch. You’re not a tender woman from what I can see. Neither am I. But Brianna is.”

“So you’re going to protect her from me, too?”

“If need be. If you hurt one of mine, I’ll hound you for it.” Face set, she turned back. “Understand me there. It’s clear to see Brie’s already opened her heart, and if Murphy hasn’t, he will.”

“And you’ve already closed yours, and your mind.”

“Haven’t you?” Maggie strode to the table, slapped her palms down. “Haven’t you come with your heart and mind made up tight? You don’t care what Da suffered. It’s only yourself you’re thinking of. It doesn’t matter to you that he never had a chance to take his happiness. Never had . . .”

She trailed off as her vision grayed. Swearing, she leaned against the table, fighting for balance. Even as she swayed, Shannon was grabbing her shoulders.

“Sit down, for God’s sake.”

“I’m all right.”

“Sure.” The woman was pale as death and her eyes had nearly rolled back in her head. “We’ll go another round.”

But Maggie slid bonelessly into the chair, making not even a token protest when Shannon firmly pushed her head between her knees.

“Breathe. Just breathe or something. Shit.” She gave Maggie’s shoulder an awkward pat and wondered what to do next. “I’ll get Gray, we’ll phone the doctor.”

“I don’t need the doctor.” Fighting the dizziness, Maggie groped out until she found Shannon’s hand. “Don’t bother him. It’s just being pregnant is all. It was the same when I was carrying Liam the first few weeks.”

Shaky, and disgusted with herself, Maggie sat back. She knew the routine and kept her eyes closed, drew air in slow and steady. Her eyes fluttered open in surprise when she felt the cool cloth on her head.

“Thanks.”

“Drink some water.” Hoping it was the right move, Shannon urged the glass she’d just filled into Maggie’s hand. “You’re still awfully pale.”

“It passes. Just nature’s way of reminding you you’ve a lot worse ahead in nine months.”

“Cheerful thought.” Shannon sat again, keeping her eyes glued to Maggie’s face. “Why are you having another?”

“I like challenges. And I want more children—which was a big surprise to me as I never knew I’d want the first. It’s an adventure, really, a little dizziness, getting queasy of a morning, growing fat as a prize hog.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Your color’s coming back.”

“Then you can stop staring at me as though I were going to sprout wings.” She slid the cloth from her brow, set it on the table between them. “Thank you.”

Relieved, Shannon leaned back in her chair. “Don’t mention it.”

“Since you bring it up.” Maggie plucked at the damp cloth. “I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t mention to Brie, or anyone, that I had a bit of a spell. She’d fuss, you see—then Rogan would start hovering.”

“And you do better at protecting than being protected.”

“You could say that.”

Thoughtful, Shannon drummed her fingers on the table. They’d crossed some line, she thought, without either of them realizing it. Maybe she would take the next, deliberate step.

“You want me to keep quiet about it?”

“I do, yes.”

“What’s it worth to you?”

Taken off guard, Maggie blinked. “Worth?”

“We could call it an exchange of favors.”

Brows knit, Maggie nodded. “We could. What favor are you after?”

“I want to see where you work.”

“Where I work?” Suspicion slipped into her voice, and her eyes. “Inside my glass house?”

Nothing could have been sweeter, Shannon decided. “I hear you really hate when people come into your glass house, ask questions, poke around. That’s what I want to do.” She rose to take her cup to the sink. “Otherwise, it might just slip out about you nearly fainting in the kitchen.”

“I didn’t faint,” Maggie muttered. “Body can’t even have a little spell in peace,” she continued as she pushed back from the table. “People are supposed to be tolerant of a woman with child. Come on then.” Obviously displeased, she took her cap back out of her pocket and stuffed it on her head.

“I thought I’d drive.”

“Just like a Yank,” Maggie said in disgust. “We’re walking.”

“Fine.” Shannon grabbed Murphy’s jacket from the peg and followed. “Where’s Liam?” she asked as they headed over the back lawn.

“With his da. Rogan had the idea I needed a lie-in this morning and took him off to the gallery for a few hours.”

“I’d like to see it. The gallery. I’ve been in Worldwide in New York.”

“This one’s not as posh. Rogan’s goal was to make it more a home for art than a display. We feature only Irish artists and craftsmen. It’s been a year since it opened, and he’s done what he set out to do. But then—he always does.” Agile, she swung over the first wall.

“Have you been married long?”

“Two years soon. That was something else he set out to do.” It made her smile to think of it, to remember how she’d fought him every step of the way. “You’ve no thoughts of marriage, a man waiting for you to come back?”

“No.” As if on cue she heard the sound of a tractor, then saw Murphy riding in the far field. “I’m concentrating on my career.”

“I know how that is.” Maggie lifted her hand in a wave. “He’ll be going back to his bog to cut turf. It’s a fine day for it, and he prefers peat to wood or coal.”