Wash her face indeed.

She sniffed, started to turn back in the seat to take the wheel when the movement in the upper window stopped her. For a moment she was terrified, mortified, that Shawn was there, looking out while she stared at his cottage.

But the embarrassed flush never had the chance to heat her cheeks as she saw the figure of a woman and the shine of pale hair in the delicate moonlight.

So now Brenna sighed, and rolling down her window, crossed her arms there and rested her chin on them.

How many nights, she wondered, had poor Lady Gwen stood there in that window, alone and lonely and heartbroken? All because of a man.

“Why do we bother with them, Gwen? Why do we let them get into our heads this way? When you push all the rest aside, they’re so bloody irritating.”

His heart’s in his song. Brenna heard the words as if they were whispered directly into her ear. And so are you. Listen.

She squeezed her eyes tight, as something frightening was trying to swell and shift in her head. “No, no, I’m done with that, and with him. I’m not giving more of my thoughts and more of my time to Shawn. He’s had enough of them, and for too long already.”

Almost violently, she shoved the truck back into gear and drove home.

He knew she was working alone because he’d checked. Mick O’Toole was seeing to some business up at the cliff hotel, and Jude was running some errands.

He could hear her banging away at something as he climbed the steps. Which meant, he realized, the woman was armed. It was a risk he’d have to take.

He’d spent most of the night thinking the situation over—which was becoming too much of a habit and costing him a great deal of sleep. He’d come to the conclusion that Jude was right. It was time to move one way or the other. He imagined the conversation to come would determine which direction he headed.

The banging, he noted, was from inside the baby’s closet. Following impulse, a rare thing for him, he closed the door, locked it, and pocketed the key. That, at least, would keep her from walking out on him until he’d finished.

Braced for the explosion he was sure he was inviting, he walked toward the closet.

“Jude? Back so soon? Well, have a look at these shelves here and see if they’re to your liking.” From the third step on her ladder, she looked over her shoulder and saw Shawn in the doorway.

He waited, but rather than blistering him with her tongue, she just looked through him, then turned back to work.

That, he thought, was a very dire sign indeed.

“I want to talk to you,” he began.

“I’m working. I’ve no time for chatting.”

“I need to talk to you.” He stepped in, laid a hand on her hip. It took a great deal of courage not to spring back when she stared down on him and took a fresh grip on her hammer. “Would you put that down?”