She would, of course. A born tinkerer was Brenna. She was never happier than when she had something taken apart and all the pieces of it spread out for her examination. It made him think he should ask her to have a go at his toaster, as it was burning one side of everything he put in it.

Then she pulled her head out, slammed the bonnet smartly. She shot a look up at the window where he was standing, and her eyes, full of righteous annoyance, flashed to his. He sent her what he knew was a cheeky grin in return before she stomped off to her lorry. The way her mouth was moving, he assumed she was assigning him to the devil.

Rain sprinkled down on her as she hitched herself into her lorry. He watched as she, with her usual energy and carelessness, bulleted in reverse into the road, then zipped away over bumps.

But he was no longer smiling. Amusement had fallen away into sheer shock. He had one of the answers now, and he didn’t care for it one bit.

He was in love with her. “

“Bloody, stinking hell. What in the wide world am I supposed to do with that?” He started to jam his hands into his pockets, but got no satisfaction, as he was naked. He turned, intending to drown himself in the shower in the hopes the feeling would pass.

Lady Gwen stood just inside the doorway, her hands folded neatly, watching him.

“Sweet Jesus.” However foolish it was, he snatched the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around him. “A man’s entitled to his privacy in his own home.”

Flustered and fumbling, he stared back at her. She looked as real as he felt, and as lovely as all the legends professed. Now her eyes were full of quiet sympathy, and an understanding that had his gut churning uneasily.

She was there, no question that she was there, and the cat had come back to ribbon around her skirts and purr ferociously.

“So, is this what you were waiting for before you showed yourself to me? For me to realize something that hurts? Well, it’s said misery loves company, but I prefer to nurse my own wounds alone.”

She walked to him, graceful, dignified, those soft eyes swimming with emotion. He saw her lift a hand, and though he felt no pressure, no slide of skin to skin, he felt the touch of it against his cheek as gentle comfort.

Then she was gone.

He did what he usually did when he came up against something he didn’t want to deal with. He tucked it into a corner of his mind, trusting he’d work out some solution eventually, and dived into his music.

It balanced him, fed his heart. As close as he was to his family, he’d never been able to explain what it meant to him to be able to hear music in his head, to feel it inside him, then to be able to make it sound in the air.