"You're letting the rain in," she said in a voice that only added to the fantasy. Soft, musical, lilting of the Ireland he'd come to discover.
"Sorry." He fumbled behind him for the door, shutting it so that the storm became only a backdrop.
Her heart was still thudding. The noise and Con's response had wakened her from a dream of pursuit and terror. Now, Brianna stared down at a man in black, shapeless but for his face, which was shadowed. When he stepped closer, she kept her trembling hand tight on Con's collar. A long, narrow face, she saw now. A poet's face with its dark, curious eyes and solemn mouth. A pirate's face, hardened by those prominent bones and the long sun-streaked hair that curled damp around it.
Silly to be afraid, she scolded herself. He was just a man, after all.
"Are you lost, then?" she asked him.
"No." He smiled, slow, easy. "I'm found. This is Blackthorn Cottage?"
"It is, yes."
"I'm Grayson Thane. I'm a couple days early, but Miss Concannon's expecting me."
"Oh." Brianna murmured something to the dog Gray didn't catch, but it had the effect of relaxing those bunched canine muscles. "I was looking for you on Friday, Mr. Thane. But you're welcome." She started down the steps, the dog at her side, the candlelight wavering. "I'm Brianna Concannon." She offered a hand.
He stared at it a moment. He'd been expecting a nice, homey woman with graying hair tucked back in a bun. "I woke you," he said foolishly.
"We usually sleep here in the middle of the night. Come in by the fire." She walked to the parlor, switching on the lights. After setting the candle aside, blowing it out, she turned to take his wet coat. "It's a terrible night for traveling."
"So I discovered."
He wasn't shapeless under the mac. Though he wasn't as tall as Brianna's uneasy imagination had made him, he was lean and wiry. Like a boxer, she thought, then smiled at herself. Poet, pirate, boxer. The man was a writer, and a guest. "Warm yourself, Mr. Thane. I'll make you some tea, shall I? Or would you rather I..." She'd started to offer to show him to his room, and remembered that she was sleeping in it.
"I've been dreaming of coffee for the last hour. If it isn't too much trouble."
"It's not a problem. No problem at all. Make yourself comfortable."
It was too pretty a scene to spend alone, he decided. "I'll just come in the kitchen with you. I feel bad enough about dragging you out of bed at this hour." He held out a hand for Con to sniff. "This is some dog. For a minute I took him for a wolf."
"A wolfhound, he is." Her mind was busy figuring details. "You're welcome to sit in the kitchen. Are you hungry, then?"
He rubbed Con's head and grinned down at her. "Miss Concannon, I think I love you."
She flushed at his compliment. "Well, you give your heart easily then, if for no more than a bowl of soup." "Not from what I've heard of your cooking." "Oh?" She led the way into the kitchen and hung his dripping coat on a hook by the rear door.
"A friend of a cousin of my editor stayed here a year or so ago. The word was that the hostess of the Blackthorn cooked like an angel." He hadn't heard she looked like one as well.
"That's a fine compliment." Brianna put on the kettle, then ladeled soup into a pot for heating. "I'm afraid I can only offer you plain fare tonight, Mr. Thane, but you'll not go to your bed hungry." She took soda bread from a bin and sliced it generously. "Have you traveled long today?" "I started out late from Dublin. I'd planned to stay another day, but I had the itch." He smiled, taking the bread she set on the table and biting into the first piece before she could offer him butter. "It was time to get on the road. Do you run this place alone?"
"I do. I'm afraid you'll have a lack of company this time of year."
"I didn't come for company," he said, watching as she measured out coffee. The kitchen was beginning to smell like heaven.
"For work, you said. I think it must be wonderful to be able to tell stories."
"It has its moments."
"I like yours." It was simply said as she reached into a cupboard for a stoneware bowl glazed in deep blue.
He raised a brow. People usually began to ask dozens of questions at this point. How do you write, where do you get your ideas-the most hated of questions-how do you get published? And questions were usually followed up by the deathless information that the inquirer had a story to tell.
But that was all she said. Gray found himself smiling again. "Thanks. Sometimes I do, too." He leaned forward, sniffed deeply when she set the bowl of soup in front of him. "It doesn't smell like plain fare to me."
"It's vegetable, with a bit of beef. I can make you a sandwich if you like."
"No, this is great." He sampled, sighed. "Really great." He studied her again. Did her skin always look so soft and flushed? he wondered. Or was it sleepiness? "I'm trying to be sorry I woke you," he said and continued to eat. "This is making it tough."
"A good inn's always open to a traveler, Mr. Thane." She set his coffee beside him, signaled the dog who immediately stood from his perch beside the kitchen table. "Help yourself to another bowl if you like. I'll tend to your room."
She hurried out, quickening her steps as she came to the stairs. She'd have to change the sheets on the bed, the towels in the bath. It didn't occur to her to offer him one of the other rooms. As her only guest, he was entitled to the best she had.
She worked quickly and was just plumping the pillows in their lace-edged cases when she heard the sound at the door.
Her first reaction was distress to see him standing in the doorway. Her next was resignation. It was her home, after all. She had a right to use any part of it.
"I was giving myself a bit of a holiday," she began and tugged at the quilt.
Odd, he thought, that a woman performing the simple task of tucking in sheets should look so outrageously sexy. He must be more tired than he'd thought.
"I seemed to have dragged you from your bed in more ways than one. It wasn't necessary for you to move out."
"This is the room you're paying for. It's warm. I've built the fire up, and you've your own bath. If you-"
She broke off because he'd come up behind her. The prickling down her spine