He saw his first clear shot when the children were being bundled up for bed. Moving fast, he grabbed Shannon’s hand. “We’ll go put the kettle on for tea.” Without breaking stride, he pulled her toward the kitchen, through it, and out the back door.

“The kettle—”

“The devil take the kettle,” he muttered and whirled her into his arms. Beside the coop where the hens brooded, he kissed her as though his life depended on it. “I never noticed how many people there are in my family.”

“Twenty-three,” she murmured, sliding into the next kiss. “Twenty-four with you. I counted.”

“And one of them’s bound to be poking out the kitchen window any second. Come on. We’re making a break for it.”

He pulled her past paddock and pen and up the first rise until she was breathless and laughing. “Murphy, slow down. They’re not going to set the dogs on us.”

“If we had dogs, they might.” But he shortened his stride a little. “I want you alone. Do you mind?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk to you.”

“We’ll talk all you like,” he promised. “After I show you what I’ve been thinking about doing to you all day and half the night.”

Heat balled, a solid, steaming weight in her stomach. “We should talk first. We haven’t really set up the guidelines. It’s important we both understand, well, where we stand, before we get any deeper into this.”

“Guidelines.” The word made him smile. “I think I can find my way without them.”

“I’m not talking about the physical aspect.” A thought intruded, and turned her voice cool and casual. “You didn’t ever have a physical aspect with Maggie, did you?”

His first reaction was to roar with laughter, but a twist of mischief made him hum in consideration. “Well, now that you mention it . . .” He let the sentence trail off as he pulled Shannon into the stone circle.

She was abruptly far from cool and batted his hands away as he tugged off her jacket. “Now that I mention it?” she repeated with steel in her voice.

“We had a bit of an aspect,” he said, ignoring her shoving hands as he worked at the buttons of her blouse. “I kissed her once, in a bit more than what you might be calling a brotherly fashion.” He grinned into Shannon’s eyes. “It was curious and it was sweet. I was fifteen if memory serves.”

“Oh.” The green-eyed monster was dwarfed by foolishness.

“I managed to sneak one in on Brie, too. But we ended up laughing at each other while our lips were still locked. It took the romance right out of it.”

“Oh,” she said again and pouted. “And that was it?”

“You needn’t worry. I never . . . crossed any borders with either of your sisters. So . . .”

His tongue dried up as he slid her blouse aside. She wore silk beneath tonight, dark, dangerous silk that dipped low and provocative at the curve of her breasts, then draped down to shimmer beneath the waistband of her skirt.