'Ah, she's got her nose out of joint because I kissed Brenna.'
'Well, there's nothing to squabble about-' Aidan's hand dropped onto the table. 'Brenna O'Toole?'
'Of course Brenna O'Toole.'
'What were you doing kissing our Brenna?'
'Aidan.' Jude tugged on his sleeve. 'This is Shawn's business.'
'It's ours as it's Brenna.'
'Mother of God. It's not as if I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the kitchen floor to force myself on her in a carnal fashion while she tried to fight me off.'
'You were on the kitchen floor?'
'We were not.' At his wits' end, Shawn pressed his fingers to his eyes. 'A man can't have a simple life in this family. I kissed Brenna, and not for the first time. Neither do I plan on it being the last. And I fail to see why that's such a puzzlement to everyone who knows us. And an outrage as well.'
Darcy folded her hands. She'd learned something she'd hoped to by the poking at him. He hadn't mentioned that it was Brenna who'd initiated the shift in relationship. With another man she'd chalk it up to ego. But with Shawn she knew it was instinctive protection of the woman involved.
The fact both pleased and worried her.
'It's just- surprising,' Aidan said.
'I'm not outraged.' Darcy sent Shawn a sweet, sisterly look. 'But puzzled I am. After all, Brenna's seen you naked already-some years ago, to be sure, but still such things linger in the mind. And having had a good look at your equipment, I can't think why she'd be the least bit interested.'
'That's a question you'll have to put to her.' He wanted to leave it at that, dignified, dismissive, but it rankled. 'I wasn't more than fifteen, and the water was cold. A man's not at his best just out of frigid water, you know.'
'That's your story, son, and you stick with it.'
'And you shouldn't have been looking in that direction. But you always were a perverted sort.'
'Why shouldn't I have looked? Everyone else was. He lost his trunks in the sea,' she explained to Jude, 'and didn't realize it till he was standing clear of the surf, jay naked. I've always regretted the lack of a camera.'
Jude glanced at Shawn with sympathy. 'I used to regret being an only child. But there are some circumstances when-oh!'
'What is it?' Aidan was on his feet like a shot, prepared to haul his wife into his arms, when she pressed her finger to her belly. 'There, you've upset her with your bickering.'
'No, no. The baby's moving.' Thrilled, she grabbed Aidan's hand and laid it over her middle. 'Do you feel it? It's like a rippling inside me.'
Panic shifted to awe, filling his eyes, his heart. 'He's lively.'
'It's a family meeting, after all. Why shouldn't he be part of it?' Shawn raised his glass again. 'Slainte.'
He went to visit Maude. Since he'd been used to seeing her once or twice a week most of his life, Shawn saw no reason that should change after death. And her resting place was a good spot for thinking.
It had nothing much to do with the fact that he would stroll near the cliff hotel on his way. It wasn't likely he'd see Brenna, but, well, if he didn't walk in that direction, there was no chance at all of seeing her.
As he recalled, Maude Fitzgerald had been the romantic sort, and he thought she'd appreciate the logic of it.
The hotel sat dramatically on the cliffs, with the sea spread before it. And though the air was brisk with morning, a scattering of guests were out and about enjoying the view. Shawn gave himself the pleasure of it as well, and as he watched the boats bob and sail over the water, he thanked his ancestors for going into the business of a public house rather than fishing.
There was Tim Riley and his crew hauling in nets while the waves kicked and danced. There was a rhythm to it that had Shawn tapping his foot and set pipe against cello in a musical duel in his head.
Shawn imagined the tourists thought the boats looked picturesque. They probably viewed the idea of making a living from the sea as a kind of romantic venture steeped in history and tradition. But as he stood, wind flowing through his dark hair and doing its best to sneak under his sweater, he could only think it a cold and lonely and capricious life.
He'd take a warm pub and a busy kitchen any day of the week.
But it was romance that whirled through Mary Kate's mind when she rushed out after spotting him. She had to press a hand to her heart, as it filled with images.
She looked at Shawn, standing on the cliffs, legs spread, eyes on the horizon, and she saw Heathcliff,
Rhett Butler, Lancelot, and every other heroic fantasy that might fill an infatuated young woman's dreams.
She was glad she'd borrowed her sister Patty's new blue blouse that morning, though Patty wasn't going to be pleased about it. Making a valiant attempt to smooth her hair, Mary Kate hurried forward.
'Shawn.'
When he turned and saw her coming toward him, Shawn cursed himself. He hadn't thought of the possibility of running into Brenna's sister, not when he'd been so busy thinking of Brenna.
Mind your step, Gallagher, he warned himself. 'Good morning, Mary Kate. I was forgetting the hotel is full of O'Tooles just now.'
She had to untangle her tongue. His eyes were so clear in this light. If she looked into them deeply enough, she could see herself reflected back. It was so alluring.
'You should come in out of the wind. I've a break now, I'll buy you some tea.'
'That's a kind offer, but I'm on my way to see Old Maude. I was just watching Tim Riley pull in his nets, and they looked heavy with fish. I'll have to go about bargaining with him later for some of his catch.'
'Why don't you stop by on your way back?' She tilted her head, running a hand through her hair and looking up at him under her lashes in a look she'd practiced endlessly. 'I can take my lunch most anytime.'
'Ah-' She had more skill in flirtation than he'd given her credit for. It was just a little frightening. 'I'm due at the pub before long.'
'I'd love to be able to sit and talk with you.' She laid a hand on his arm. 'When there's not so much going on.'
'Well, that's a thought, isn't it? I've got to be going.
You should go inside. You shouldn't be standing out here in that thin blouse. You'll catch a chill. My best to your family.'
As he made his escape, Mary Kate sighed. He'd noticed the blouse.
He'd handled that well, Shawn congratulated himself. Friendly, a sort of older brother to younger sister kind of thing. He was sure the little crisis had passed. And it was really rather sweet that she'd thought of him the way she had. A man had to be flattered, especially since he'd slipped through those sticky loops with no harm done.
But deciding a bit of backup wouldn't be out of order, he dipped into Saint Declan's Well and sprinkled the water on the ground.
'Superstitious? A modern-thinking man?'
Shawn's head came up, and his eyes met the clever blue ones of Carrick, prince of the faeries. 'A modern- thinking man knows there's a reason for superstitions, especially when he stands and finds himself having a conversation with the likes of you.'
Since he'd come for a purpose, Shawn walked away from the well and over to Maude's grave. 'So, tell me, are you always here and about? I've come to this spot all my life, and it's only recently I've seen you.'
'There was no particular reason for you to see me before recently. I've a question for you, Shawn Gallagher, and I'm hoping you'll be answering it.'
'Well, you have to ask it first.'
'So I will.' Carrick sat by the grave across from Shawn so their eyes were level. 'What the bleeding, blistering hell are you waiting for?'
Shawn raised his eyebrows, rested his hands on his knees. 'All manner of things.'
'Oh, that's typical of you.' Disgust edged Carrick's voice. 'I'm speaking of Mary Brenna O'Toole, and why you haven't taken her to your bed.'
'That would be between Brenna and myself,' Shawn said evenly, 'and no concern of yours.'
'Of course it's a concern of mine.' Carrick was on his feet now, the movement too fast for the human eye to
