She merely scowled and shifted direction so that she veered toward the right-side drive.
Measuring her mood, he opted to kiss her hand rather than her mouth when he'd opened the car door for her. "Dream within a dream," he murmured. "Poe had some lovely lines on that. You'll dream of me tonight, Shannon, and I of you."
"No, I won't." She said it firmly as she slammed the door. After shoving up the sleeves of his jacket, she backed out of the drive and headed up the rain-washed road.
The man had to have a screw loose somewhere, she decided. It was the only explanation. Her only choice was to give him absolutely no encouragement from this point on.
No more cozy dinners in the kitchen, no music and laughter in the pub, no easy conversations or staggering kisses in the fields.
Damn it, she'd miss it. All of it. She pulled up in Brianna's drive and set the brake. He'd gone and stirred up feelings and desires she hadn't known she was capable of, then left her with no other option but to squelch them.
Pinheaded idiot, she thought, slamming her door before racing toward the house.
Shannon fought off a scowl as she opened the door and found Brianna beaming smiles down the hallway.
"Oh, good, he lent you a jacket. I didn't think of it till after you'd left. Did you have a nice time then?"
Shannon opened her mouth, surprised when the usual platitudes simply weren't there. "The man is insane."
Brianna blinked. "Murphy?"
"Who else? I'm telling you, he's got something corked around in his head. There's no reasoning with him."
In a move so natural neither of them noticed, Brianna took Shannon's hand and began to lead her back toward the kitchen. "Did you have a quarrel?"
"A quarrel? No, I wouldn't say that. You can't quarrel with insanity."
"Hey, Shannon." When the kitchen door opened, Gray glanced up, pausing with a huge spoon of trifle half way to a bowl. "How was dinner? Got any room for trifle? Brie makes the world's best."
"She's had a to-do with Murphy," Brianna informed him, urging Shannon into a chair before going for the teapot.
"No kidding." Intrigued, Gray dumped the trifle, then went for another bowl. "What about?"
"Oh, nothing much. He just wants me to marry him and have his children."
Brianna bobbled the teacup, barely saving it from shattering on the floor. "You're joking," she said and nearly managed a laugh.
"It's a joke all right, but I'm not making it." Absently she dug into the bowl Gray set in front of her. "He claims to be courting me." She snorted, took a swallow of trifle. "Can you beat that?" she demanded of Gray.
"Ah..." He ran his tongue around his teeth. "Nope."
Very slowly, her eyes wide, Brianna took her seat. "He said he was wanting to court you?"
"He said he was," Shannon corrected and spooned up more trifle. "He has this wild idea of love at first sight, and that we're meant, or some ridiculous thing. All this about remembering and recognition. Bull," she muttered and poured out the tea herself.
"Murphy's never courted anyone. Never wanted to."
With her eyes narrowed Shannon turned to Brianna. "I wish everyone would stop using that antiquated word. It makes me nervous."
"The word," Gray put in, "or the deed?"
"Both." She propped her chin on her fist. "As if things weren't complicated enough."
"Are you indifferent to him?" Brianna asked.
"Not indifferent." Shannon frowned. "Exactly."
"The plot thickens." Gray only grinned at the heated look Shannon shot at him. "You'd better understand the Irish are a stubborn race. I'm not sure if the Irish of the west aren't the most stubborn. If Murphy's got his eye on you, it's going to stay there."
"Don't make light of it, Gray." In automatic sympathy Brianna laid her hand over Shannon's. "She's upset, and there are hearts involved."
"No, there are not." About that, at least, Shannon could be firm. "Considering going to bed with a man and spending the rest of your life with him are two entirely different things. And as for him, he's just a romantic."
With her brows knit, she concentrated on scraping the last of the trifle from her bowl. "It's nonsense, the idea that a couple of odd dreams have anything to do with destiny."
"Murphy's had odd dreams?"
Distracted again, Shannon glanced at Brianna. "I don't know. I didn't ask."
"You have." Gray couldn't have been more delighted. He leaned forward. "Tell me-especially the sexy parts."
"Stop it, Grayson."
But Shannon found herself laughing. Odd, she thought, that here should be the big brother she'd always wished for. "It's all sexy," she told him and licked her lips.
"Yeah?" He leaned closer. "Start at the beginning, Don't leave anything out. No detail is too small."
"Don't pay him any mind, Shannon."
"It's all right." More than full, she pushed the empty bowl aside. "You both might find it interesting. I've never had a recurring dream before. Actually, it's more like vignettes, in random order. Or what seems to be."
"Now you're really driving me crazy," Gray complained. "Spill it."
"Okay. It starts off in the field, where the stone circle is? Funny, it's like I dreamed it was there before I saw it. But that's not possible. Anyway"-she waved that away-"it's raining. Cold, there's frost. It sounds like glass grinding when I walk on it. Not me," she corrected with a half laugh. "The woman in the dream. Then there's a man, dark hair, dark cloak, white horse. You can see the steam rising off them, and the mud that's splashed on his boots and his armor. He rides toward me -her-full out. And she stands there with her hair blowing. And-"
She broke off. She'd caught the quick, startled look in Brianna's eyes, and the silent exchange between her and Gray.
"What is it?" she demanded.
"Sounds like the witch and the warrior." Gray's eyes had darkened, focused intently on Shannon's face. "What happens next?"
Shannon put her hands under the table and linked them together. "You tell me."
"All right." Gray glanced at Brianna, who gestured for him to tell the tale. "Legend has it that there was a wise woman, a witch, who lived on the land here. She had the sight and, burdened with it as much as blessed, lived apart from the rest. One morning when she went to the dance to commune with her gods, she found the warrior in the circle, wounded, his horse beside him. She had the gift of healing and treated his wounds, nursing him until he was strong again. They fell in love. Became lovers."
He paused to add tea to the cups, picked up his own. "He left her, of course, for there were wars to be fought and battles he'd pledged to win. He vowed to come back, and she gave him a broach to pin to his cloak and remember her by."
"And did he?" Shannon cleared her throat. "Come back."
"It's said he did, riding to her across the field in a storm that shook the sky. He wanted to take her to wife, but he wouldn't give up his sword and shield. They fought over it bitterly. It seemed no matter how much they loved, there was no compromise in either. Next time he left, he gave her the broach, to remember him until he returned. But he never came back again. It's said he died in another field. And with her gift of sight, she knew it the moment it happened."
"It's just a story." Because they were suddenly chilled, Shannon wrapped her hands around her cup. "I don't believe in that kind of thing. You can't tell me you do."
Gray moved his shoulders. "Yes, I can. I can believe those two people existed, and that there was something strong between them that lingers. What I'm curious about is why you'd dream of them."
"I had a couple of dreams about a man on a horse," Shannon said impatiently. "Which I'm sure any number of psychiatrists would have a field day with. One has nothing to do with the other. I'm tired," she added, rising. "I'm going to bed."
"Take your tea," Brianna said kindly.
"Thanks."
When Shannon left, Brianna laid a hand on Gray's shoulder. "Don't poke at her too much, Grayson. She's so troubled."
r />
"She'd feel better if she stopped holding so much inside." With a half laugh he turned his head to press his lips to Brianna's hand. "I ought to know."
"She needs time, as you did." She sighed, long and deep. "Murphy. Who would have thought it?"
Chapter Eleven
It wasn't as if Shannon was avoiding going out to the standing stones. She'd simply overslept. And if she'd had dreams, she thought as she picked at her late breakfast of coffee and muffins, it was hardly a surprise.
Trifle before bed and a legend by a master story spinner equaled a restless night.
Still, the clarity of them worried her. Alone, she could admit she'd felt the dream, not just envisioned it. She felt the rough blanket at her back, the prickle of grass, the heat and weight of the man's body on hers. In hers.
She blew out a long breath, pressing a hand to her stomach where the memory of the dream brought an answering tug of longing.
She'd dreamed of making love with the man with Murphy's face-yet not his face. They'd been in the stone circle, with the stars swimming overhead and the moon white, like a beacon. She'd heard the hoot of an owl, felt warm breath coming quickly against her cheek. Her hands knew the feel of those muscles, bunching and straining. And she'd known, even as her body had erupted in climax, that this would be the last time.
It hurt to think of it, hurt so that now, awake, aware, the tears still threatened and burned bitterly behind her eyes.
She lifted her coffee again. She was going to have to snap out of it, she warned herself, or join the ranks of her associates in the line at the therapist's office.
The commotion at the back door had her composing her face. Whoever it was, Shannon was grateful for the diversion.
But not grateful enough to be pleased when she saw it was Maggie.
"I'm letting you in, aren't I?" Maggie said to Con. "You needn't push."
The dog burst through the open door, raced under the table, then dropped down with a long-suffering sigh.
"I'm sure you're welcome." Maggie's easy smile chilled several degrees when she spotted Shannon alone in the kitchen. "Morning. I've brought some berries by for Brie."
"She had some errands. Gray's working upstairs."
"I'll leave them." At home, Maggie crossed to put the bag in the refrigerator. "Did you enjoy your meal with Murphy?"
"News certainly travels." Shannon couldn't keep the annoyance at bay. "I'm surprised you don't know what he served."
With a smile as thin as her own temper, Maggie turned back. "Oh, it would have been chicken. He has a hand at roasting, not that he makes a habit of cooking for women." She took off her cap, stuffed it in her pocket. "But he's taken with you, isn't he?"
"I'd say that was his business, and mine."
"You'd say wrong, and I'll warn you to mind your step with him."
"I'm not interested in your warnings, or your nasty attitude."
Maggie tilted her head in a gesture that had much more to do with disdain than curiosity. "Just what are you interested in, Shannon Bodine? Do you find it amusing to dangle yourself in front of a man? One you have no intention of doing more than toying with? You'd come by that naturally enough."
The red haze of fury was blinding. She was on her feet in a snap, fists bunched. "Goddamn you. You have no right to cast stones at my mother."
"You're right. Absolutely." And if she could have bitten her tongue, Maggie would have taken the words, and the unfairness behind them, back. "I apologize for that."
"Why? You sounded exactly like your own mother."
Maggie could only wince. "You couldn't have aimed that shaft better. I did sound like her, and I was as wrong as she. So I'll apologize again for that, but not for the rest."
To calm herself, or try, she turned to heat the kettle. "But I'll ask you, and you might be honest since it's only us two, if you haven't thought close to the same of my father as I just said of your mother."
The accuracy of the question had Shannon backing off. "If I did, at least I was too polite to articulate it."