Born in Shame (Born In Trilogy 3)

fresh air's good for exercising. It's a lovely morning for being out, though we'll have rain this afternoon. You'll want a jacket," she continued, nodding toward a light denim jacket hanging on a peg by the back door.

"A jacket?"

"It's a bit cool out." Brianna set bacon to sizzling in the pan. "The exercise will give you an appetite. You'll have breakfast when you get back."

Frowning, Shannon studied Brianna's back. It looked as if she was going for a walk. A little bemused, she set down her cup and picked up the jacket. "I don't guess I'll be long."

"Take your time," Brianna said cheerfully.

Amused at each other, they parted company.

Shannon had never considered herself the outdoor type. She wasn't a fan of hiking. She much preferred the civilized atmosphere of a well-equipped health club- bottled water, the morning news on the television set, machines that told you your progress. She put in fifty minutes three times a week and was pleased to consider herself strong, healthy, and well toned.

But she'd never understood people who strapped on heavy boots and backpacks and hiked trails or climbed mountains.

Still, her discipline was too ingrained to allow her to forfeit all forms of exercise. And one day at Blackthorn had shown her that Brianna's cooking could be a problem.

So she'd walk. Shannon tucked her hands into the pockets of her borrowed jacket, for the air was chilly. There was a nice little bite in the morning that shook away any lingering dregs of jet lag.

She passed the garden where primroses were still drenched with dew, and the greenhouse that tempted her to cup her hands and peer in through the treated glass. What she saw had her mouth falling open. She'd visited professional nurseries with her mother that were less organized and less well stocked.

Impressed, she turned away, then stopped. It was all so big, she thought as she stared out over the roll of land. So empty. Without being aware she hunched her shoulders defensively in the jacket. She thought nothing of walking down a New York sidewalk, dodging pedestrians, guarding her own personal space. The blare of traffic, blasting horns, raised voices were familiar, not strange like this shimmering silence.

"Not exactly like jogging in Central Park," she muttered, comforted by the sound of her own voice. Because it was less daunting to go on than to return to the kitchen, she began to walk.

There were sounds, she realized. Birds, the distant hum of some machine, the echoing bark of a dog. Still, it seemed eerie to be so alone. Rather than focus on that, she quickened her pace. Strolling didn't tone the muscles.

When she came to the first stone wall, she debated her choices. She could walk along it, or climb over it into the next field. With a shrug, she climbed over.

She recognized wheat, just high enough to wave a bit in the breeze, and in the midst of it, a lone tree. Though it looked immensely old to her, its leaves were still the tender green of spring. A bird perched on one of its high, gnarled branches, singing its heart out.

She stopped to watch, to listen, wishing she'd brought her sketch pad. She'd have to come back with it. It had been too long since she'd had the opportunity to do a real landscape.

Odd, she thought as she began to walk again. She hadn't realized she wanted to. Yet anyone with even rudimentary skills would find their fingers itching here, she decided. The colors, the shapes, and the magnificent light. She turned around, walking backward for a moment to study the tree from a different angle.

Early morning would be best, she decided and climbed over the next wall with her attention still focused behind her.

Only luck kept her from turning headfirst into the cow.

"Jesus Christ." She scrambled backward, came up hard against stone. The cow simply eyed the intruder dispassionately and swished her tail. "It's so big." From her perch on top of the wall, Shannon let out an unsteady breath. "I had no idea they were so big."

Cautious, she lifted her gaze and discovered that bossie wasn't alone. The field was dotted with grazing cows, large placid-eyed ladies with black-and-white hides. Since they didn't seem particularly interested in her, she lowered slowly until she was sitting on the wall rather than standing on it.

"I guess the tour stops here. Aren't you going to moo or something?"

Rather than oblige, the nearest cow shifted her bulk and went back to grazing. Amused now, Shannon relaxed and took a longer, more comprehensive look around. What she saw had her lips bowing.

"Babies." With a laugh, she started to spring up to get a first-hand look at the spindly calves romping among their less energetic elders. Then caution had her glancing back into the eyes of her closest neighbor. She wasn't at all sure if cows tended to bite or not. "Guess I'll just watch them from right here."

Curiosity had her reaching out, warily, her eyes riveted on the cow's face. She just wanted to touch. Though she leaned out, she kept her butt planted firmly on the wall. If the cow didn't like the move, Shannon figured she could be on the other side. Any woman who worked out three times a week should be able to outrun a cow.

When her fingers brushed, she discovered the hair was stiff and tough, and that the cow didn't appear to object. More confident, Shannon inched a little closer and spread her palm over the flank.

"She doesn't mind being handled, that one," Murphy said from behind her.

Shannon's yelp had several of the cows trundling off. After some annoyed mooing, they settled down again. But Murphy was still laughing when they had, and his hand remained on Shannon's shoulder where he gripped to keep her from falling face first off the wall.

"Steady now. You're all nerves."

"I thought I was alone." She wasn't sure if she was more mortified to have screamed or to have been caught petting a farm animal.

"I was heading back from setting my horses to pasture and saw you." In a comfortable move he sat on the wall, facing the opposite way, and lighted a cigarette. "It's a fine morning."

Her opinion on that was a grunt. She hadn't thought about this being his land. And now, it seemed, she was stuck again. "You take care of all these cows yourself?"

"Oh, I have a bit of help now and then, when it's needed. You go ahead, pet her if you like. She doesn't mind it."

"I wasn't petting her." It was a little late for dignity, but Shannon made a stab at it. "I was just curious about how they felt."

"You've never touched a cow?" The very idea made him grin. "You have them in America I'm told."

"Of course we have cows. We just don't see them strolling down Fifth Avenue very often." She slanted a look at him. He was still smiling, looking back toward the tree that had started the whole scenario. "Why haven't you cut that down? It's in the middle of your wheat."

"It's no trouble to plow and plant around it," he said easily. "And it's been here longer than me." At the moment he was more interested in her. She smelled faintly sinful-some cunning female fragrance that had a man wondering. And wasn't it fine that he'd been thinking of her as he'd come over the rise?

There she'd been, as if she'd been waiting.

"You've a fine morning for your first in Clare. There'll be rain later in the day."

Brianna had said the same, Shannon remembered, and frowned up at the pretty blue sky. "Why do you say that?"

"Didn't you see the sunrise?"