“Stop hounding him, Maggie.” Gray kicked back in his chair. “Murphy’s entitled to test the waters. She’s a looker, isn’t she?”

“Close your mouth, Grayson. And no, you’ve no right to be testing these waters, Murphy Muldoon.”

He watched her, murmuring a thanks when Rogan set fresh drinks on the table. “You’ve an objection to me getting to know your sister, Maggie Mae?”

Eyes bright and sharp, she leaned forward. “I’ve an objection to seeing you walking toward the end of a cliff that you’ll surely fall off. She’s not one of us, and she’s not going to be interested in a west county farmer, no matter how pretty he is.”

Murphy said nothing for a moment, knowing Maggie would be simmering with impatience as he took out a cigarette, contemplated it, lighted it, drew in the first drag. “It’s kind of you to worry about me, Maggie. But it’s my cliff, and my fall.”

“If you think I’m going to sit by while you make an ass of yourself and get your heart tromped on in the bargain, you’re mistaken.”

“It’s none of your business, Margaret Mary,” Rogan said and had his wife’s wrath spewing on him.

“None of mine? Damn if it isn’t. I’ve known this soft-headed fool all of his life, and loved him, though God knows why. And this Yank wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me and Brianna.”

“The Yank’s your sister,” Gray commented. “Which means she’s probably as prickly and stubborn as you.”

Before Maggie could bare her teeth at that, Murphy was holding up a hand. “She’s the right of it. It’s your business, Maggie, as I’m your friend and she’s your sister. But it’s more my business.”

The hint of steel under the quiet tone had her temper defusing and her worry leaping. “Murphy, she’ll be going back soon where she came from.”

“Not if I can persuade her otherwise.”

She grabbed his hands now, as if the contact would transfer some sense into him. “You don’t even know her.”

“Some things you know before it’s reasonable.” He linked his fingers with hers, for the bond there was deep and strong. “I’ve waited for her, Maggie, and here she is. That’s it for me.”

Because she could see the unarguable certainty of it in his eyes, she closed her own. “You’ve lost your mind. I can’t get it back for you.”

“You can’t, no. Not even you.”

She only sighed. “All right then, when you’ve had your fall and lay broken at the bottom, I’ll come around and nurse your wounds. I want to take Liam home now, Sweeney.” She rose, bundling the sleeping boy into her arms. “I won’t ask you to talk sense to him,” she added to Gray. “Men don’t see past a comely face.”

When she turned, she saw that Shannon had come out of the rest room and been waylaid by the Conroys. She sent Shannon a hard look, was answered in kind, then strode out of the pub with her son.