“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Shannon said, so definitely that Maggie snorted.

“Going to trouble is what Brie does best. You’ll take the front,” she added coolly. “As the guest.”

Quite the bitch, Shannon decided, and jerked up her chin, much as Maggie had a habit of doing, as she slid into the passenger seat.

Brianna set her teeth. She was used, much too used to family discord. But it still hurt. “You’ve never been to Ireland, then, Shannon?”

“No.” Because the word had been curt, and made her feel as bitchy as she’d concluded Maggie was, she deliberately relaxed her shoulders. “What I saw from the air was lovely.”

“My husband’s traveled everywhere, but he says this spot is the loveliest he’s seen.” Brianna tossed a smile at Shannon while she negotiated her way out of the airport. “But it’s his home now, and he’s prejudiced.”

“You’re married to Grayson Thane.”

“Aye. For a year come the end of June. He came to Ireland, to Clare, to research a book. It’ll be out soon. Of course, he’s working on another now, and having a fine time murdering people right and left.”

“I like his books.” A safe topic, Shannon decided. A simple one. “My father was a big fan.”

And that brought a moment of thick, uncomfortable silence.

“It was hard for you,” Brianna said carefully. “Losing both your parents so close together. I hope your time here will help ease your heart a little.”

“Thank you.” Shannon turned her head and watched the scenery. And it was lovely, there was no denying it. Just as there was no denying there was something special in the way the sun slanted through the clouds and gilded the air.

“Rogan’s man said you’re a commercial artist,” Maggie began, more from curiosity than manners.

“That’s right.”

“So what you do is sell things, market them.”

Shannon’s brow lifted. She recognized disdain when she heard it, however light it was. “In a manner of speaking.” Deliberately she turned, leveled her gaze on Maggie’s. “You sell . . . things. Market them.”

“No.” Maggie’s smile was bland. “I create them. Someone else has the selling of them.”

“It’s interesting, don’t you think,” Brianna put in quickly, “that both of you are artists?”

“Odd more like,” Maggie muttered, and shrugged when Brianna aimed a warning glance in the rearview mirror.

Shannon merely folded her hands. She, at least, had been raised with manners. “How close is your home to a town, Brianna? I thought I would rent a car.”

“We’re a bit of a way from the village. You won’t find a car to let there. But you’re welcome to the use of this one when you like.”

“I don’t want to take your car.”

“It sits idle more often than not. And Gray has one as well, so . . . You’ll want to do some sightseeing, I imagine. One of us will be happy to guide you about if you like. Sometimes people just like to wander on their own. This is our village,” she added.