“I’ve nothing to say to you.”

“Fine. Then you can listen.” Out of the corner of her eye, Shannon caught Lottie’s nod of approval and hoped to earn it. “We have a connection, you and I, whether we like it or not. Your daughters link us, and I don’t want to be the cause of friction between you.”

“No one’s causing friction but herself,” Maggie said hotly.

“Be quiet, Maggie.” Shannon ignored her sister’s hiss of temper and continued. “You have a right to be angry, Mrs. Concannon. And to be hurt, whether it’s your pride that’s suffering or your heart, it doesn’t matter. Still, the fact is you can’t change what happened, or the result of it any more than I can.”

Though Maeve said nothing, only continued to stare fiercely straight ahead, Shannon was determined to finish.

“My part in this whole thing is rather indirect, a result rather than a cause. Whether or not you were part of the cause doesn’t really matter.”

That brought Maeve’s head around, and the venom spewing. “You’d dare to say that I caused your mother to commit adultery with my husband.”

“No. I wasn’t there. My mother blamed no one, certainly not you, for her actions. And what I’m saying is it doesn’t matter what part you played. Some might say that since you didn’t love him, you shouldn’t care that he found someone else. I don’t agree with that. You have all the right in the world to care. What they did was wrong.”

Maggie’s next protest was cut off by a cold look from Shannon. “It was wrong,” she said again, satisfied that no one interrupted. “Whether you look at it morally, religiously, or intellectually. You were his wife, and no matter how dissatisfied either of you were in the marriage, that should have been respected. Honored. It wasn’t, and to find out it wasn’t after all these years doesn’t diminish the anger or the betrayal.”

She took a quiet breath, aware that Maeve’s attention was centered fully on her. “I can’t go back and not be born, Mrs. Concannon. Nothing either of us can do will break the connection, so we’re going to have to live with it.”

She paused again. Maeve was watching her now, and intrigued, her eyes narrowed. “My mother died with my hard words between us. I can’t fix that, either, and I’ll regret it all my life. Don’t let something you can’t change ruin what you have now. I’ll be gone soon. Maggie and Brie and your grandchildren are right here.”

Satisfied she’d done her best, Shannon stepped back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go murder a man.”

She started down the road, had gotten no more than five paces when she heard the car door open.

“Girl.”

Shannon stopped, turned, and met Maeve’s gaze levelly. “Yes?”

“You made your point.” Whatever effort it took to concede it, Maeve disguised in a brisk nod. “And you have some sense, more than the man whose blood runs through you ever did.”

Shannon inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

While Shannon continued on her way, everyone else gaped at Maeve as if she’d sprouted wings. “Well, are you going to stand around outside all the day?” she demanded. “Get a move on you, Lottie. I want to go in and see my granddaughter.”

Not bad, Shannon decided and quickened her step. If she had half that much luck getting through to Murphy, she could consider it an excellent day’s work.

When she reached the farm and circled to the back, she saw Murphy standing near the paddock of sheep beside a short, bandy-legged man who had his teeth clamped around a pipe.

They weren’t speaking, but she would have sworn some sort of communication was going on.

Suddenly, the older man bobbed his head. “All right then, Murphy. Two pigs.”

“I’d be grateful if you could hold them for me, Mr. McNee. For a day or two.”

“That I can do.” He shoved the pipe further into his mouth and had started toward the paddock when he spotted Shannon. “You’ve company, lad.”

Murphy glanced over and smiled broadly. “Shannon. I’m happy to see you.”

“Just don’t start with me, you baboon.” She strode forward to shove a finger into his chest. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Beside them, McNee perked up his ears. “Is this the one then, Murphy?”

Gauging his ground, Murphy rubbed his chin. “She is.”

“You took your time picking one out, but you picked a fair one.”

Temper bubbling, Shannon turned on McNee. “If you’ve bet on this idiot, you can kiss your money goodbye.”

“Is there a pool?” McNee asked, offended. “Why wasn’t I told of it?”

While Shannon considered the satisfaction of knocking their heads together, Murphy patted her arm. “If you’ll excuse me just a minute, darling. Do you need help getting the lamb you fancy, Mr. McNee?”

“No, I can handle the job, and it looks like you’ve enough on your hands at the moment.” With surprising agility, the old man swung into the paddock and sent bleating sheep scattering.

“We’ll go inside.”

“We’ll stay right here,” Shannon shot back, then swore at him when he took a firm grip on her arm.

“We’ll go in,” he repeated. “I prefer you do your shouting at me in private.”

In his careful way he stopped at the stoop, pulled off his muddy Wellingtons. He opened the door for her, waited as any well-mannered man would for her to storm in before him.

“Will you sit?”

“No, damn you to hell and back, I won’t sit.”

He shrugged, leaned back against the counter. “We’ll stand then. You’ve something on your mind?”

His mild tone only fanned the fires. “How dare you? How dare you call your family and tell them to come look me over, like I was one of your horses going up for auction.”

His face relaxed. “You’re mistaken about that. I asked if they’d come meet you. That’s entirely different.”

“It is not different. And you’re having them come on false pretenses. You told them you were courting me.”

“So I am courting you, Shannon.”

“We’ve been through that, and I’m not going through it again.”