“Thanks.”

Leaving her to it, he stepped out to pull on jeans and a sweater. If he hadn’t been obliged to be at the pub, he would’ve found a way to talk her into spending the day with him. As it was, they only had an hour or so.

But he saw, clearly saw, how it could be with them. Mornings like this, begun with love and slipping into the easy routine of a meal before they went off on their ways. Brenna sitting in the pub kitchen for a while in the evening while he worked. Knowing she’d be waiting when he got home.

As he headed downstairs, he reminded himself there were a few steps left to take before they got there. But he couldn’t believe, wouldn’t believe, he could be so in love with someone and not find the way to spend his life with her.

They’d need their own house, one that belonged to them. A big kitchen, and bedrooms enough for the family they’d make. He had enough put by to see about acquiring some land. He put on water for coffee, and got out the makings for tea as well, as he preferred starting his day that way.

He assembled eggs, flour, buttermilk. Then nearly dropped the carton at the knock on the back door.

“I’m sorry.” With a laugh in her voice, Mary Kate opened the door. “I didn’t mean to give a start.” Her cheeks were pink from her walk to the cottage, her eyes bright and cheerful. “I was just out, it being my day off, and I thought I’d stop by for a moment.”

His mind raced for the way to get her out again, fast and smooth, with no harm done. Before he’d come up with anything other than yelling fire! it was too late.

“Why aren’t I smelling coffee?” Brenna demanded. “You wear a body out before ten in the morning, then can’t even . . .” Her voice simply died away as she walked in and saw her sister.

All the happy color in Mary Kate’s cheeks died, and her eyes went wide and dark with hurt. For a moment no one moved. Actors in a bad play waiting for the curtain, knowing that when it lifted disaster would follow.

Shawn reached out, laid a hand on Mary Kate’s arm. “Mary Kate.” He said it gently, and the sympathy in the tone snapped her out of her shock. She smacked his hand aside, turned for the door.

“Mary Kate, wait!” Brenna rushed forward, skidded to a halt when her sister turned. There was color in her face again, the wild, deep color that came from shame and fury.

“You’re sleeping with him. You’re a liar and a hypocrite.” She swung out, and as Brenna neither braced for nor tried to avoid the blow, the slap sent her sprawling. “And a whore as well.”

“That’s enough.” Grimly, Shawn grabbed Mary Kate’s arm. “You’ve no right to strike her or speak to her that way.”