“That’s fine and good, but don’t you want more? Don’t you want other people to have the pleasure of it as well?”

“You don’t even like my music.”

“Now when have I said that?” At his bland stare she shrugged. “Well, if I did ’twas only to annoy you. I like it very well. And now and then when you’ve played one of your tunes in the pub or at a ceili , others have too.”

“That’s friends and family.”

“Exactly. I’m a friend, aren’t I?”

“You are.”

“Then will you give me a tune?”

He shifted, wary. “What do you mean, ‘give you a tune’?”

“Just that. Let me have a song, for my own. A barter, for fixing your car.” On impulse she got up, gestured to the piano. “You’ve dozens, and they’re just lying about. I’d like to have one.”

He didn’t believe that for a minute, but he couldn’t see the trap or the harm. “It’s some mood you’re in, O’Toole, but all right. I’ll give you one.”

He rose, but when he started to push through the piles, she slapped his hand away. “No, I get to pick it. It’s only fair.” She snatched up the one she’d been reading, the one, she realized, she’d been picking out on the keyboard when Lady Gwen had first shown herself. “I like this one.”

“It’s not finished yet.” He couldn’t put a finger on the point of his panic, he only knew he felt it. “It needs work.”

“It’s the one I want. You wouldn’t be stepping back from a bargain, would you?”

“No, but—”

“Good.” She folded the sheets in a way that made him wince, and tucked them in her back pocket. “It’s mine now, and thank you.” She rose up on her toes, kissed him lightly. “I’ll drive you to the pub, drop you off for work. That way I can bring your car back to my house where my tools are. I’ll have it running smooth for you.”

“I’ve a bit of time yet.”

“Well, I don’t. I’ve considerable to do today. If I brought your car down to you before closing, would you give me a lift back?”

He tried to put the song out of his mind. She’d forget it soon enough, he decided. “Back to where?”

She smiled slowly. “Here would be just far enough.”

• • •

She had one stop to make before she drove home to change and get out her tools. With Shawn safely at the pub, Brenna drove down to Jude’s house and parked.

Jude was out in the front garden, getting a jump on spring. Her gloves were already dark with dirt, and there were a number of sketches on the walkway beside her. At Brenna’s approach, she sat back on her heels and tipped up the straw hat she was using to protect her head from the drizzling rain.

“Something wrong with your lorry?”

“No, I’m doing some work on Shawn’s car, as he’d rather be nibbled by ants than lift the bonnet. Your drawings are getting wet.”