“She’s so tired, Mr. Fleming,” Shannon whispered. “Perhaps it should wait until morning.”
“No, she’ll come around. Give her a moment.” He tickled Clara’s cheek with his forefinger. After a moment he asked, “Hey, poppet. Is that the cherry thumb you have in your mouth? Or the chocolate?”
Clara giggled sleepily and spoke with a mouth filled with thumb. “The cherry, Papa.”
“Of course,” he agreed solemnly. He glanced at Shannon. “She is consistent at least. Cherry is the right and chocolate is the left. I’ve never caught her out.” He stroked the underside of Clara’s chin. “C’mon, princess. Open your eyes and see who is here. I brought her back, just as you asked.” Hearing Shannon’s soft gasp, he spoke to her. “You see, here is someone who wants you very much indeed.”
At last Brandon’s presence seemed to register with Clara, and she woke from a pleasant dream. She saw her father first, and not even the thumb, still firmly in place, detracted from the smile she gave him. Her bright blue eyes followed the direction of his glance until they rested on the woman sitting at her feet. Clara giggled and removed her thumb. “Your face is dirty.”
Shannon nodded pleasantly and touched her palms to her warm cheeks. “I know. I look a fright.”
“I get dirty sometimes.” Clara’s forehead puckered in a frown. “Then my mama gets angry.”
Shannon did not know what to say.
“Are you my new mama?”
Shannon looked helplessly at Brandon. He gave her a small shake of his head, indicating he would handle this.
“This is Miss Kilmartin, Clara. I know she looks very much like your mother—”
Clara shook her head vigorously. “No, she doesn’t. I was pretendin’.”
“You were pretending?” asked Brandon, unable to disguise his surprise. “Do you mean you’ve known since you saw her on the ship?”
“Not then.” Clara’s thumb nestled in her mouth again. “I pretended since yestermorrow,” she lisped.
Brandon’s wide shoulders jerked as he gave a low chuckle. He interpreted for Shannon. “She hasn’t much sense of time. ‘Yestermorrow’ probably means she’s known you weren’t Rory for several days now.” He tapped Clara’s button nose. “All right, Miss Very Clever. But Miss Kilmartin can’t be your mother, and you cannot pretend any longer that she is. However, she’s agreed to be your governess, and that is no small thing.”
This was news to Shannon, and her eyes widened in distress. She opened her mouth to protest, but Clara interrupted. “Don’ want a guvness,” she said sulkily.
Then, because Brandon looked as if he would argue with his daughter, Shannon spoke up. “I could be your friend,” she said calmly. “I need a friend.” Could they hear the slight break in her voice? She took a deep breath to steady her emotions. “Will you do that for me, poppet? Will you be my friend?”
“All right,” she said simply.
“It would appear it’s settled then,” said Brandon. He seemed somewhat dazed that the matter had been taken care of with such deftness. He had anticipated arguments from his daughter and Shannon. He had planned to overrule both their objections, of course, and was still in shock that he hadn’t had the opportunity. “I’ll be back for you in a minute, Clara. I’m going to put your friend to bed first. She’s more tired than you, I think.”
Clara laughed happily as Shannon’s protests were ignored and Brandon swept her into his arms.
“This is not necessary,” Shannon said stubbornly as Brandon jiggled the handle of the door that connected their rooms. The existence of the door itself was enough to put a period to her argument. Until this moment she had not been aware her bedchamber joined Brandon’s. She had seen the door from her side, but had thought it led to a dressing area. “I can’t stay here,” she said when Brandon set her on the bed she had been using since she came to the folly.
“If it’s the proximity to my room that’s troubling you, you can put your fears to rest,” Brandon said a trifle coldly. “I have no intention of ravishing you. You’re an employee now, and I keep my hands off the help.”
That was plain enough. “Oh.”
“Exactly. If it would make you feel better, I’ll give you the key and you can lock the door from your side. We can speak of other arrangements in the morning.” He crossed the room quickly, extracted the key hanging loosely in the lock, and placed it in Shannon’s hand. “There. Shall I call someone to help you ready for bed?”
“I can manage,” she said on a thread of sound, staring stupidly at the key. Suddenly she looked up at him. If she had lifted her head a moment earlier, she would have seen desire darkening his eyes and had good reason to wonder if a locked door offered any protection at all. But she was too late, and the searching look in Brandon’s eyes had been quickly veiled. He regarded her impassively.
“Yes? Is there something you wish?”
Shannon screwed her courage to the sticking place. “I was wondering if you believed me now…about the earl, I mean. I didn’t explain myself very well before, and I don’t blame you for not—”
“I received Eric’s missive this evening.”
“I see.” She lowered her head. “But you still offered me the position as Clara’s governess.”
Brandon stared at the vulnerable nape of her neck. His fingers ached to brush aside the little-girl braid and place his mouth on the white skin beneath. His voice was rough. “I don’t remember offering it. I don’t believe I consulted you at all. Do you want the position?”
