An odd woman, Shannon thought as she started the climb up the gentle slope of rocks toward the road. She supposed it was another Irish trait to make an esoteric conversation out of something as simple as a view. As she reached the road, it occurred to her that the woman had been old, and alone, and perhaps needed a ride to wherever she’d been going.

She turned back with thoughts of offering just that. And saw nothing but an empty strand.

The shiver came first, then the shrug. The woman had just gone about her business, that was all. And it was past time that she turn the car around and take it back to its owner.

She found Brianna in the kitchen, sitting alone for once and nursing a solitary cup of tea.

“Ah, you’re back.” With an effort Brianna smiled, then rose to pour another cup. “Did you have a nice drive?”

“Yes, thanks.” Meticulously Shannon returned the car keys to their pegs. “I was able to pick up some of the supplies I needed, too. So I’ll do some sketching tomorrow. I noticed another car out front.”

“Guests, just arrived this afternoon from Germany.”

“Your inn’s a regular U.N.” Brianna’s absent response had her lifting a brow. Shannon might not have known the other woman well, but she recognized worry when she saw it. “Is something wrong?”

Brianna twisted her hands together, caught herself in the habitual gesture, and let them fall. “Would you sit for a minute, Shannon? I’d hoped to give you a few days before talking of this. But . . . I’m cornered.”

“All right.” Shannon sat. “Let’s have it.”

“Do you want something with your tea? I’ve biscuits, or—”

“You’re stalling, Brianna.”

Brianna sighed and sat. “I’m a born coward. I need to speak with you about my mother.”

Shannon didn’t move, but she brought her shields down. It was instinctive, covering both defensive and offensive. And her voice reflected the shift. “All right. We both know I’m not here to take in the sights. What do you want to say about it?”

“You’re angry, and I can’t blame you for it. You’ll be angrier yet before it’s over.” Brianna stared down into her tea for a moment. “Bad feelings are what I’m most cowardly about. But there’s no putting this off. She’s coming by. I’ve run out of excuses to stop her. I can’t lie to her, Shannon, and pretend you’re no more than a guest here.”

“Why should you?”

“She doesn’t know about this, any of this.” Eyes troubled, Brianna looked up again. “Nothing about my father and your mother. Nothing about you.”

Shannon’s smile was cool and thin. “Do you really believe that? From what I’ve seen, wives generally have an instinct about straying husbands.”

“Straying wasn’t what happened between our parents, and yes, I believe it completely. If my mother had known, it would have been her finest weapon against him.” It hurt to admit it, shamed her to speak of it, but she saw no choice now. “Never once in my life did I see any love between them. Only duty, the coldness of that. And the heat of resentment.”