"He is."
"You wouldn't think a writer would have a build like that -all tough and muscled."
Well aware Maggie was looking for a reaction, Brianna kept her back turned. "I suppose he's nicely put together. I wouldn't think a married woman going into her sixth month of pregnancy would pay his build much mind."
Maggie snorted. "I've a notion every woman would pay him mind. And if you haven't, we'd best be having more than your eyes checked."
"My eyes are fine, thank you. And aren't you the one who was worried about me being alone with him?"
"That was before I decided to like him."
With a little sigh Brianna glanced toward the kitchen doorway. She doubted she had much time. Brianna moistened her lips, kept her hands busy with tidying the breakfast dishes. "Maggie, I'd be glad if you could find time to come by later. I need to talk to you about something."
"Talk now."
"No, I can't." She glanced at the kitchen doorway. "We need to be private. It's important."
"You're upset."
"I don't know if I'm upset or not."
"Did he do something? The Yank?" Despite her bulk, Maggie was out of her chair and ready to fight.
"No, no. It's nothing to do with him." Exasperated, Brianna set her hands on her hips. "You just said you liked him."
"Not if he's upsetting you."
"Well, he's not. Don't press me about it now. Will you come by later, once I'm sure he's settled?"
"Of course I will." Concerned, Maggie brushed a hand over Brianna's shoulder. "Do you want Rogan to come?"
"If he can. Yes," Brianna decided, thinking of Maggie's condition. "Yes, please ask him to come with you."
"Before tea, then-two, three o'clock?"
"That would be good. Take the buns, Maggie, and the bread. I want to help Mr. Thane settle in."
There was nothing Brianna dreaded more than confrontations, angry words, bitter emotions. She had grown up in a house where the air had always simmered with them. Resentments boiling into blowups. Disappointments flashing into shouts. In defense she had always tried to keep her own feelings controlled, steering as far to the opposite pole as possible from the storms and rages that had served as her sister's shield to their parents' misery.
She could admit, to herself, that she had often wished to wake one morning and discover her parents had decided to ignore church and tradition and go their separate ways. But more often, too often, she had prayed for a miracle. The miracle of having her parents discover each other again, and reigniting the spark that had drawn them together so many years before.
Now, she understood, at least in part, why that miracle could never have happened. Amanda. The woman's name had been Amanda.
Had her mother known? Brianna wondered. Had she known that the husband she'd come to detest had loved another? Did she know there was a child, grown now, who was a result of that reckless, forbidden love?
She could never ask. Would never ask, Brianna promised herself. The horrible scene it would cause would be more than she could bear.
Already she had spent most of the day dreading sharing what she'd discovered with her sister. Knowing, for she knew Maggie well, that there would be hurt and anger and soul-deep disillusionment.
She'd put it off for hours. The coward's way, she knew, and it shamed her. But she told herself she needed time to settle her own heart before she could take on the burden of Maggie's.
Gray was the perfect distraction. Helping him settle into his room, answering his questions about the nearby villages and the countryside. And questions he had, by the dozen. By the time she pointed him off toward Ennis, she was exhausted. His mental energy was amazing, reminding her of a contortionist she'd once seen at a fair, twisting and turning himself into outrageous shapes, then popping out only to twist and turn again.
To relax, she got down on hands and knees and scrubbed the kitchen floor.
It was barely two when she heard Con's welcoming barks. The tea was steeping, her cakes frosted, and the little sandwiches she'd made cut into neat triangles. Brianna wrung her hands once, then opened the kitchen door to her sister and brother-in-law.
"Did you walk over, then?"
"Sweeney claims I need exercise." Maggie's face was rosy, her eyes dancing. She took one long, deep sniff of the air. "And I will, after tea."
"She's greedy these days." Rogan hung his coat and Maggie's on hooks by the door. He might have worn old trousers and sturdy walking shoes, but nothing could disguise what his wife would have termed the Dublin in him. Tall, dark, elegant, he would be in black tie or rags. "It's lucky you asked us for tea, Brianna. She's cleaned out our pantry."
"Well, we've plenty here. Go sit by the fire and I'll bring it out."
"We're not guests," Maggie objected. "The kitchen'll do for us."
"I've been in it all day." It was a lame excuse. There was no more appealing room in the house for her. But she wanted, needed, the formality of the parlor for what needed to be done. "And there's a nice fire laid."
"I'll take the tray," Rogan offered.
The minute they were settled in the parlor, Maggie reached for a cake.
"Take a sandwich," Rogan told her.
"He treats me more like a child than a woman who's carrying one." But she took the sandwich first. "I've been telling Rogan about your very attractive Yank. Long gold-tipped hair, sturdy muscles, and big brown eyes. Isn't he joining us for tea?"
"We're early for tea," Rogan pointed out. "I've read his books," he said to Brianna. "He has a clever way of plunging the reader into the turmoil."
"I know." She smiled a little. "I fell asleep last night with the light on. He's gone out for a drive, to Ennis and about. He was kind enough to post a letter for me." The easiest way, Brianna thought, was often through the back door. "I found some papers when I was up in the attic yesterday."
"Haven't we been through that business before?" Maggie asked.
"We left a lot of Da's boxes untouched. When Mother was here, it seemed best not to bring it up."