tonight.'
'I've no plans but to do my job here. You've mixed something up.'
Enjoying the timing, Aidan turned to Darcy as she came in. 'Darcy, did Shawn ask for this evening free or did he not?'
'He did, a couple of days back. Selfish bastard.' Not one to let an opportunity pass, she flashed a challenging look at Aidan. 'And since you're so bloody accommodating with our brother, I'm wanting Saturday afternoon off for myself.'
'Saturday afternoon.' Aidan nearly choked on his water. 'You can't have a weekend day off as we're heading into spring.'
'Oh, so it's all right for him.' She pointed a finger toward a baffled Shawn. 'But it's a different matter entirely for me.'
'I don't need the evening off.'
'You've got it,' Aidan snapped, and ground his teeth as Darcy folded her arms. 'A weekday evening's a different matter from a weekend afternoon.'
'All right, fine, then. I'll take the evening off Monday next. Unless me being female means I don't get the same considerations as this one.' Satisfied that she'd boxed Aidan in, she flounced out.
'I don't remember asking for tonight off,' Shawn said vaguely.
'Aye, and you don't remember to tie your bootlaces half the time.' Seriously annoyed, Aidan jerked a thumb at the door. 'Out with you, you troublemaker.'
Shoving up his sleeves and squaring his shoulders, Aidan went out to deal with his treacherous sister.
She had everything under control, and quite the job of work it had been. It had to be special, and as close to perfect as she could manage. Shawn Gallagher would see he wasn't the only one who could fuss and fiddle and set a nice scene.
She'd been to the market and got all the makings. While Shawn had been busy cooking at the pub, she'd been doing the same at the cottage. Maybe she didn't have his flair with such things, but she wasn't altogether helpless.
She'd chilled the wine and had even ferreted out a tin pail she'd scrubbed to use as an ice bucket. The champagne glasses she'd borrowed from Jude. Flutes, she'd called them, Brenna thought. And elegant they were.
She'd set a nice table, if she said so herself. A pair of pretty plates and cloth napkins, the flowers she scavenged from her mother's garden and the one at the cottage.
Candles, she thought as she lighted them. Surely everything was in place for an atmosphere of romance and celebration.
Oh, she couldn't wait to see his face when she told him about his music. It had been a test of will and restraint not to shout out the news to everyone she'd passed that day. But it was for Shawn first.
After they'd celebrated the thrill of it, and his future, lifted a glass or two, she'd tell him the rest. She couldn't-wouldn't-fumble with the words. Hadn't she practiced them in her head all of the day?
'I love you,' she said now, out loud to the empty room. 'I think I always have, I know now I always will. Will you marry me?'
There. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her heart, as it was galloping like a wild horse. It wasn't so hard, really. Maybe her tongue felt a little thick and clumsy, but she'd said it straight out without stuttering.
And if he balked or refused, she'd just have to kill him.
As her ears were pricked for it, she heard the sound of his car as he turned into the street. All right, Brenna. She closed her eyes, steadied herself. Here we go.
Damned if he'd asked for an evening off. Still stewing about it, Shawn shoved open his garden gate. He should know, shouldn't he? And if he had, wouldn't he have made plans for it? He knew what was going on in his own life, for Christ's sake.
Not that he couldn't adjust. He'd ring Brenna and see if she was agreeable to having an evening together. He'd throw a meal together, or it was early enough that they could go out to the hotel restaurant.
Aidan and Darcy had to be having him on, though for the life of him he couldn't think of the purpose.
The minute he stepped into the house he caught the scent of cooking, then the flicker of light back in the kitchen. What now, was all he could think. Had Lady Gwen taken to making meals while he was away from home?
When he walked in, he was as surprised to see Brenna as he would have been to see the ghost.
She was wearing a dress, which was odd enough. But she was standing, smiling, with candlelight all around her, the good, rich scent of stew simmering, and a bottle of champagne in a rain bucket standing on the counter behind her.
'What's all this?'
'It's dinner. Beef and Guinness stew. The one thing I can make that no one has trouble choking down.'
'You cooked?' He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache brewing.
'I've been known to on the rare occasion.'
'Yes, but, did we- Well, we must've,' he decided, scanning all the pretty preparations. 'This is beyond a bit of absentmindedness. I think something must be wrong with me.'
'You look fine to me.' Since he wasn't going to make a move, she did, walking to him to kiss him. 'More than fine.' This time her hands slid over his face, and the kiss went dreamy. 'It's glad I am to see you, Shawn.'
He started to question it all again, then as Brenna's mouth moved warm over his, thought it was foolish to bother. 'It's a pleasure coming home to you.'
Get used to it, she thought and smiled as she stepped back. 'I've been waiting. All but jumping out of my skin,' she admitted. 'I've things to tell you.'
'What are they?'
Words leaped to her tongue but she bit them back. 'Let's have this open first.'
'I'll do it.' He nudged her away from the champagne, then lifted his brows at the label. 'The pricey stuff. Are we celebrating?'
'We are.' She caught the look in his eye, and the way his fingers suddenly stilled on the foil. 'If you ask me if I'm breeding I'll brain you. I am not.'
Her eyes were laughing as she spoke. He kept his on them as he twisted the wire. 'You're in a rare mood.'
'I am. There are some things that don't happen every day of the week, and a rare mood's what you get from them when they do.' She felt as bubbly as the wine he poured. Taking her glass, she lifted it. 'This is to you, Shawn.'
'And what did I do?'
'We should sit down. No, I can't. We'll have to stand. Shawn, you've sold your first piece of music.'
CHAPTER Twenty
The puzzled smile slid away from his face. 'I've done what?'
'You've sold your song, and there'll be others as well. But the first's the biggest thrill, isn't it?'
Very deliberately, he set his glass down again. 'I haven't put any music up for sale, Brenna.'
'I did. Well, in a way I did. The song you gave me, I sent it off to the Magee in New York City. He called me today, just this morning, and said how he wants to buy it. And that he wants to see your other work.' She spun in a circle, too excited to see how cool his eyes were as they watched her. 'I didn't think I'd get through the day without telling you.'
'What right did you have to do that?'
Still beaming, she sipped champagne. 'To do what?'
'To send my music off that way, to take it on yourself to show a stranger what was mine?'
'Shawn.' She put a hand on his arm to give him a little shake. 'He's buying it.'
'I gave it to you because you asked me-because I thought you wanted it for yourself, and that you valued it for
