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.”

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.”