Born in Fire (Born In Trilogy #1)

“Certainly I’ll speak with him. He’s my kin, isn’t he? I’d hardly ignore him. But I won’t help you interfere. You’re the snob, Rogan, and a prude as well.”

“Prude?”

“You’re offended by the idea of your grandmother having a rich and full sex life.”

He winced, hissed through his teeth. “Oh please. I don’t want to imagine it.”

“Nor should you, since it’s her private business.” Her mouth twitched. “Still…it’s interesting.”

“Don’t.” Defeated, he sank into the chair again. “If there’s one picture I don’t want in my mind, it’s that.”

“Actually, I can’t quite get it there myself. Now, wouldn’t it be a strange thing if they married? Then we’d be in the way of cousins after all.” Laughing, she slapped his back when he choked. “Could you use a whiskey, darling?”

“I could. Maggie.” He took several deep breaths. “Maggie,” he called again as she rummaged through in the kitchen. “I don’t want her to be hurt.”

“I know.” She came back, holding two glasses. “It’s knowing that that kept me from bloodying your nose when you spoke so of Uncle Niall. Your gran’s a fine woman, Rogan, and a wise one.”

“She’s—” Finally, he said it aloud. “She’s all I have left of my family.”

Maggie’s eyes gentled. “You’re not losing her.”

He let out a breath, stared into his glass. “I suppose you think I’m being a fool.”

“No, I don’t—exactly.” She smiled when his eyes lifted to hers. “A man can be expected to be a bit jittery when his granny takes on a boyfriend.”

Rogan winced. She laughed.

“Why not let her be happy? If it eases your mind, I’ll look the situation over when they stop here.”

“That’s something at least.” He touched his glass to hers, and they tossed the whiskey back together. “I have to go.”

“You’ve hardly been here. Why don’t you come to the pub with me and we’ll have a meal together. Or”—she slipped her arms around him—“we’ll stay here and go hungry.”

No, he thought as he lowered his mouth to hers. They wouldn’t be hungry for long.

“I can’t stay.” He set the empty glass aside to take her by her shoulders. “If I did we’d only end up in bed. That wouldn’t solve anything.”

“There doesn’t have to be anything to solve. Why must you make it complicated? We’re good together.”

“We are.” He framed her face in his hands. “Very good together. That’s only one of the reasons I want to spend my life with you. No, don’t draw away. Nothing you told me changes what we can have. Once you realize that, you’ll come to me. I can wait.”

“You’ll just go, then stay away again? So, it’s marriage or nothing?”

“It’s marriage.” He kissed her again. “And everything. I’ll be in Limerick for almost a week. The office knows where to reach me.”

“I won’t call.”

He traced a thumb over her lips. “But you’ll want to. That’s enough for now.”

Chapter Nineteen

“YOU’RE being pigheaded, Maggie.’’

“You know, I’m tired of having that particular word applied to me.” With goggles protecting her eyes, Maggie experimented with lamp work. For nearly a week everything she’d free-blown had dissatisfied her. For a change of pace she had set up a half-dozen torches, three clamped to each side of a bench, and was heating a tube of glass in the cross fire.

“Well, if it’s applied to you often enough, it may be true,” Brianna shot back. “It’s family. You can spare one evening for family.’’

“It isn’t a matter of time.” She meant this, though for some reason, Maggie felt time was breathing down her neck like a snarling dog. “Why should I subject myself to having dinner with her?” Carefully, brows knit, she began to pull and rotate the softened glass. “I can tell you I have no appetite for it. Nor will she.’’

“’Tisn’t just Mother who’ll be coming. Uncle Niall and Mrs. Sweeney will be there. And Lottie, of course, It would be rude of you not to come.’’

“I’ve been told I’m that, as well as pigheaded.” As with everything else she’d touched over the last few days, the glass refused to follow the vision in her head. The vision itself blurred, infuriating her as much as it frightened her. Pure obstinancy kept her working.

“You haven’t seen Uncle Niall since Da’s wake. And he’s bringing Rogan’s grandmother, for heaven’s sake. You told me you liked her very much.”

“I do.” Damn it, what was wrong with her hands? What was wrong with her heart? She fused one rod to the other, burned it off, returned, burned it off. “Perhaps one of the reasons I don’t want to be there is so she’ll not be subjected to one of our happy family meals.”

The sarcasm was as hot as one of Maggie’s points of flame. Brianna faced it down with ice. “It wouldn’t cost you much to put aside your feelings for one night. If Uncle Niall and Mrs. Sweeney are going out of their way to visit us before going on to Galway, we’ll welcome them. All of us.”

“Stop badgering me, will you? You’re pecking away at me like a damn duck. Can’t you see I’m working?”

“You hardly do anything else, so it’s necessary to interrupt you if I want a word. They’ll be here shortly, Maggie, and I’ll not make excuses for you.” In a gesture similar to her sister’s habitual stance, Brianna folded her arms. “I’ll stand right here and keep pecking until you do what’s expected of you.”

“All right, all right. Jesus. I’ll come to the damn dinner.”

Brianna smiled serenely. She’d never expected less. “At half seven. I’m serving my guests earlier so we’ll have a private family meal.”

“And oh, what a jolly time that will be.”

“It’ll go well enough if you promise to hold that nasty tongue of yours. I’m only asking for the smallest of efforts.”