She found Maggie waiting for her in the main parlor downstairs. “They’ll be bringing a light meal in,” Maggie told her. “I tend to be starving this time of day after my morning bout.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. God.” Shannon’s eyes widened as they fixed on the sculpture dominating one side of the room. Mesmerized, she walked toward it, her fingers unable to resist one long stroke of the glass.

It was magnificent, erotic, and nearly human in its sinuous limbs and melting features. She could almost see the man and woman, fused together in absolute fulfillment.

“Do you like it?” Maggie’s voice might have been casual, but she couldn’t prevent the quick spurt of pleasure at Shannon’s dazzled reaction.

“It’s incredible.”

“Surrender, I called it.”

“Yes, of course. You could make this,” she murmured, in wonder, “something like this, in that little place in the country.”

“Why not? A real artist doesn’t need fancy digs. Ah, here’s the food. Bless you, Noreen.”

Maggie was already involved in a chicken sandwich when Shannon came over to join her. “Where’s Liam?”

“Oh, one of the maids has a crush on him. She’s whisked him off to the nursery to make him hot chocolate and spoil him. Better have one of these before I eat them all.”

Taking her at word, Shannon chose one of the little sandwiches. “This is a magnificent house.”

“It’s lovely, to be sure, but never empty. Having servants about still makes me twitchy.” She shrugged. “There’s no doubt we’ll need help after the new baby comes. I’ll have to lock myself in the glass house for any privacy.”

“Most people would be thrilled to be able to have housekeepers and cooks.”

“I’m not most people.” Maggie bit off more chicken. “But I’m learning to live with it. Rogan’s on the phone,” she added. “He’s mad for phones. There’s business at the Paris branch he should be seeing to in person. But he won’t leave while I’m having this problem in the mornings. Doesn’t even help to shout at him. When the man’s dug in his heels, you can’t budge him with a brick.”

She moved on to the pasta curls and gave Shannon a speculative look. “His mind’s set on having you.”

“Well, mine’s not set. Entirely.”

“First I’m going to tell you that when the man came after me, I had no intention of being managed. By anyone at all. He has a way, Rogan does, of seeing right into you, finding those weaknesses and prides and secrets you’d just as soon keep to yourself. Then he uses them. With charm, with ruthlessness, with logic, and with such organized planning that he’s always one step ahead.”

“I’ve noticed. He got me here, when I had every intention of telling him thanks, but no thanks.”

“It’s not just a business with him. He’d be easier to resist if it was. He has a great love and affection for art, and for the artist. And what he’s done in Clare . . .” The pride for him came into her voice, into her eyes. “He’s made something important there, for art, for Ireland. He’s done it because he’s tied by his heart to both.”