“Shawn looked at Brenna,” she said gently. “And has looked for a long time. And she at him. Neither of them is the careless sort who looks to hurt another. You know that.”

“They didn’t care about me.”

“They had their eyes on each other, and for a time they didn’t see you.”

It was worse, a hundred times worse, to be looked at with sympathy and still be made to feel like a fool. “You make it sound like it’s all right, them having at each other that way.”

Oh, a fine and shaky line, Mollie thought. “I’m not speaking of that, as that’s between Brenna and her conscience and her heart. It’s not for you to judge her, Mary Kate, nor for me. We cast no stones in this house.”

Tears came faster now, and with them resentment. “You’re taking her side in this, then.”

“You’re wrong, as I have two daughters hurt now and I love each in equal measure. If there’s sides to be taken, Brenna’s just taken yours. You’ve no way of knowing what her feelings are for Shawn or how deep they run, but she’ll turn away from him for you. Is that what you want, Mary Kate? Would that soothe your heart and your pride?”

The turmoil inside her swallowed her up. Laying her head on the table, she wept like a child.

There was no choice for a man, for a father, but to deal with such matters. Mick would have preferred having his fingers broken one at a time rather than using them to knock on the door of Faerie Hill Cottage.

But there was nothing else to be done.

His daughter had given herself to a man, been taken by one, and that had shattered his comfortable illusions about his firstborn. He wasn’t a stupid man. He knew that women, young ones and old ones and those in between, had certain needs. But when it was a matter of his pride and joy, he didn’t care to have those needs shoved in his face.

And he knew, as well as any, about the needs of a man. He might have had a deep affection for Shawn Gallagher, but that didn’t negate the fact that the bastard had put his hand on Michael O’Toole’s baby.

So he knocked, and he was prepared to handle the matter in a straightforward and civilized way.

When the door opened, Mick rammed his fist into Shawn’s face.

Shawn’s head snapped back, and he took two steps for balance, but he stayed on his feet. Tougher than he looks, Mick decided, lifting his balled fists again, for that had been a fine punch if he said so himself.

“Come on, then, defend yourself. Ya son of a bitch. I’ve come to wipe the floor with you.”

“No, sir.” Shawn’s head was ringing, and he wanted badly to swivel his jaw to make sure it wasn’t broken, but he merely stood there, arms at his sides. The man was half his size and nearly twice his age. “You can plant another on me if you must, but I won’t fight you.”