“Oh, you’re twisting this all around. You have an opportunity, and you’re too stubborn to take it.”

“Is that how it is between us? You make the decisions, you do the thinking, and I’m just to follow, to fall in line and be grateful you’re looking out for me as I’m too half-witted to look after myself?”

“Why are you turning this one thing into everything?” Her hand shook as she dragged it through her hair. “Didn’t you arrange for the man to look at my design?” It struck her suddenly that she’d forgotten about that, about everything Magee had said to her about her own work. She’d forgotten all that in the thrill of his offering for Shawn’s.

“I did,” Shawn countered. “And you can’t see any difference in that, Brenna, than this? I talked to you of showing your design, I didn’t go behind your back with it, or pull tricks.”

“It wasn’t a trick, wasn’t meant as one.” But she was beginning to see the wrong turn, and the sinking sensation in her stomach layered sickness over understanding. “You never said you didn’t want to do something with your music. It was always you weren’t ready.”

“Because I wasn’t ready.”

“Well, if we’re stuck on that one point, I say you were.” Fear made her lash out. “And so does a man who appears to be something of the expert on such things. Damn you, you gave the song to me, and I did what I chose with it. I thought you’d be pleased, but it’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”

He stared her down, viciously pleased when she began to tremble. “And neither will I.” Without another word, he turned and walked out of the house.

“You son of a bitch.” She kicked the door behind him. “You shortsighted, ungrateful, simple bastard. This is the thanks I get for trying to do something for you. If you think I’m running after you, you’ll have a long wait.”

She snatched up her glass, downed the contents. Bubbles exploded in her throat, set her eyes to watering.

To think of all the time and trouble she’d gone to, only to have him act as if she were some sort of shrew or bully. Well, she wasn’t crying over it, or him for that matter.

She braced her hands on the counter, leaning forward and breathing slow to try to relieve the horrible pressure in her chest.

Oh, God, what had she done? She just couldn’t get her mind around where she’d gone so completely wrong. The method, yes, there she had surely mis-stepped. But the results . . . How could something she’d thought would be a joy to him whip out of her hands to lash at them both?

She turned, wanting to sit down until she felt steadier, and saw Lady Gwen. “A lot of help you’ve been. His song, you told me. His heart’s in his song and I was to listen. Isn’t that just what I did?”