A touch, he thought, at his touch all that cool dignity and calm manner melted away.

“Brianna.” His breath was backing up in his lungs, but he held on until her clouded eyes lifted once more to the reflection of his. “Watch what happens to you when I take you up.”

She started to speak, but his hand glided smoothly down, cupping her, finding her already hot and wet. Even as she choked out his name, half in protest, half in disbelief, he stroked her, gently at first, persuasively. But his eyes were fierce with concentration.

It was staggering, shocking to see his hand possess her there, and to feel those long slow strokes that evoked an answering pull and tug in her center. Her own eyes showed her that she was moving against him now, willingly, eagerly, almost pleadingly. Any thought of modesty was forgotten, abandoned as she lifted her arms, hooking them back around his neck, her hips responding to his increasing rhythm.

And she was like a moth pinned by a sharp sweet spear of pleasure. Her body was still shuddering when he lifted her, carrying her to the bed to show her more.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“The opening’s tomorrow, and he’s barred me from the place.” With her chin on her fist, Maggie glared at Brianna’s back. “And he’s plopped me down in your kitchen so you can be my keeper.”

Patiently Brianna finished icing the petit fours she’d baked for tea.

She had eight guests, counting Gray, including three active children.

“Margaret Mary, didn’t the doctor tell you to stay off your feet, and that since the baby’s dropped, you could deliver earlier than you’d thought?”

“What does he know?” Cranky as a child herself, Maggie scowled. “I’m going to be pregnant for the rest of my life. And if Sweeney thinks he’s keeping me from the opening tomorrow, he’d best think again.”

“Rogan never said he intended to do that. He didn’t want you . . .” She’d nearly said underfoot and took more care with her words. “Overdoing today.”

“It’s my gallery, too,” she muttered. Her back was paining her like a toothache, and she was having twinges. Just twinges, she assured herself. Probably the mutton she’d eaten that afternoon.

“Of course it is,” Brianna soothed. “And we’ll all be there tomorrow for the opening. The advertisements in the papers were lovely. It’ll be a great success, I know.”

Maggie only grunted. “Where’s the Yank?”

“He’s working. Locked himself in as defense against the little German girl who kept wandering into his room.” She smiled over it. “He’s a darling with children. He played Chutes and Ladders with her last night, so she’s fallen in love with him and won’t leave him in peace.”

“And you’re thinking what a fine father he’ll make.”

Brianna pokered up. “I didn’t say that. But he would. You should see how he—” She broke off when she heard the front door open. “If that’s more guests, I’ll have to give them my room and sleep in the parlor.”

“You can just stop playing musical beds and sleep in Gray’s,” Maggie commented, then winced when she recognized the voices coming down the hall. “Ah, perfect. I’d hoped she’d changed her mind and stayed in France.”

“Stop it,” Brianna warned and took out more cups for tea.

“The world travelers are back,” Lottie said cheerfully as she trailed Maeve into the kitchen. “Oh, what a fine place you have there, Maggie. Like a palace it is. What a wonderful time we had.”

“Speak for yourself.” Maeve sniffed and set her purse on the counter. “Bunch of foreign half-naked people running around on the beach.”

“Some of the men were built beautifully.” Lottie giggled. “There was an American widower who flirted with Maeve.”

“Dallying.” Maeve waved a hand, but her cheeks had flushed. “I paid no mind to his kind.” Sitting down, Maeve gave Maggie a hard stare. She covered the spurt of concern with a curl of the lip. “Peaked you are. You’ll soon appreciate what a mother suffers when you go into labor.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Ah, the girl’s as strong as a horse.” Lottie’s voice was bracing as she patted Maggie’s hand. “And young enough to have a half dozen children.”

Maggie rolled her eyes and managed a laugh. “I don’t know which of you depresses me more.”

“It’s nice you’re back in time for the gallery opening tomorrow." Brianna tactfully changed subjects as she served the tea.

“Hah. What would I be doing wasting time at some art place?”

“We wouldn’t miss it.” Lottie aimed a stern look in Maeve’s direction. “Maeve, you know very well you said you’d be pleased to see Maggie’s work, and the rest.”

Maeve shifted uncomfortably. “What I said was I was surprised there was so much fuss over bits of glass.” She frowned at Brianna before Lottie could embarrass her further. “Your car wasn’t out front. Has it fallen apart at last?”

“I’m told it was hopeless. I’ve a new one, the blue one out there.”

“A new one.” Maeve set her cup down with a clatter. “Squandering your money on a new car?”

“ ’Tis her money,” Maggie began heatedly, but Brianna cut her off with a look.

“It’s not new, except to me. It’s a used car, and I didn’t buy it.” She braced herself. “Grayson bought it for me.”

For a moment there was silence. Lottie stared down at her tea with her lips pursed. Maggie prepared to leap to her sister’s defense and fought to ignore the twinges.

“Bought it for you?” Maeve’s voice was hard as stone. “You accepted such a thing from a man? Have you no care for what people will think, or say?”

“I imagine people will think it was a generous thing, and say the same." She set aside her frosting knife and picked up her tea. Her hands would shake in a moment. She knew it, hated it.

“What they will think is that you sold yourself for it. And have you? Is that what you’ve done?”

“No.” The word was frigidly calm. “The car was a gift, and accepted as such. It has nothing to do with our being lovers.”

There, she thought. She’d said it. Her stomach was clutched, her hands fit to tremble, but she’d said it.