“Thank you, Rogan.” Shannon took the box he brought in and wondered what to do next.

“What is it?” Gray wanted to know. “Open it up. Ow.” He winced as Brianna jabbed his ribs with her elbow.

“He’ll open it at home,” she said. “Take some cake with you.” She already readied a slab and handed Murphy the covered plate.

“Thanks. Come with me,” he said again and, taking Shannon’s arm, led her outside.

“Good thing you gave him the plate,” Maggie commented. “Else he’d have his hands all over her before they were out of the garden.”

As it was, he had to call on all of his control. He wanted to drag her over the fields, down onto them. Instead he concentrated on keeping his stride from outdistancing hers.

“I should have brought the lorry.”

“It’s not far to walk,” she said, breathless.

“Right now it is. Is that heavy? I’ll take it.”

“No.” She shifted the box out of his reach. It wasn’t light, but she wanted to carry it. “You might guess.”

“You didn’t have to buy me anything. Your coming back’s present enough.” He hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her easily over the wall. “I missed you every minute. I didn’t know a man could think of a woman so many times in one day.”

He forced himself to take three calming breaths. “Rogan told me you’d signed the contracts with him. Are you happy?”

“Part of me is, and part of me’s terrified.”

“The fear’s only a motivator to do your best. You’ll be famous, Shannon, and rich.”

“I’m already rich.”

His stride faltered. “You are?”

“Comparatively.”

“Oh.” He’d have to mull that one over, he decided. Think it through. But at the moment his mind kept getting muddled with images of peeling her out of that pretty tailored jacket.

When they reached the farm, he held open the kitchen door. He set the plate on the counter and would have grabbed her if she hadn’t anticipated him and moved to the other side of the table.

“I’d like you to open your present.” She set it on the table between them.

“I want you upstairs, on the stairs. Here on the floor.”

Blood bubbled under her skin. “The way I’m feeling right now, you can have me upstairs, on the stairs, and here on the floor.” She held up a hand when his eyes went hot. “But I’d really like you to see what I got you in Dublin.”

He didn’t give a damn if she’d brought him a solid-gold pitchfork or a jeweled plowshare. But the quiet request stopped him from simply leaping over the table. Instead, he lifted the lid from the box and pushed through the packing.

She saw the instant he realized what was under it. The stunned joy crept into his face. Suddenly he looked as young and bedazzled as any child who’s found his heart’s desire under the tree on Christmas morning.

Reverently he lifted the dulcimer out, ran his fingers over the wood. “I’ve never seen anything so fine.”