Her nerves began to stretch even before she lowered her gaze and saw it. The circle of copper with the figure of a stallion embossed. It would have a pin on the back, she knew, sturdy and thick enough to clamp together a man’s riding cloak.

Murphy watched her go as pale as glass. Her fingers reached out for it, then drew back sharply, curling into a defensive fist.

“What is it?”

“You know what it is.” He swore with studied violence when she shook her head. “Don’t lie to yourself. It’s poor spirited.”

She could see it against dark wool, both broach and cloak beaded with rain. “Where did you get it?”

“I found it, center of the dance when I was a boy. I fell asleep with it in my hand, right there. And dreamed of you the first time.”

She couldn’t take her eyes from it, even when her vision wavered. “That isn’t possible.”

“It happened, just as I told you.” He picked it up and held it out to her.

“I don’t want it.” Panic snaked into her voice.

“I’ve kept it for you half my life.” Calmer now, he slipped it back into his pocket. “I can keep it longer. There’s no need for you to leave before you’ve had the time you’re wanting with your sisters. I won’t touch you in that way again, or pressure you to give me what you’re not willing to. You’ve my word.”

He would keep it. She knew him now well enough not to doubt it. How could she blame him for giving her a promise that made her feel small and weepy? “I care about you, Murphy. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She couldn’t have any idea how much she had done just that. But he kept his voice neutral. “I’m a man grown, Shannon, and can tend to myself.”

She’d been so sure she could walk away cold. Now she found she wanted to hold him again, and be held. “I don’t want to lose your friendship. It’s come to mean a lot to me in a short time.”

“You couldn’t lose it.” He smiled, though he had to keep his hands close to his sides to keep from reaching for her. “You never have to worry over that.”

She tried not to as she left and started up the road again. And she tried not to think too deeply about why she needed to weep.

Chapter
Fourteen

Murphy put his back into mucking out the stables. Physical labor was part of his life, and he knew how to use strain and sweat to ease the mind.

It was a pity it wasn’t working for him.

He drove his shovel into the soiled straw bedding, tossed the load into the growing pile in his wheelbarrow.

“You always had a good aim, you did, Murphy.” Maggie strolled up behind him. She was smiling, but her eyes were searching his face for signs. And what she found tore at her heart.