Jude glanced at Shawn with sympathy. “I used to regret being an only child. But there are some circumstances when—oh!”

“What is it?” Aidan was on his feet like a shot, prepared to haul his wife into his arms, when she pressed her finger to her belly. “There, you’ve upset her with your bickering.”

“No, no. The baby’s moving.” Thrilled, she grabbed Aidan’s hand and laid it over her middle. “Do you feel it? It’s like a rippling inside me.”

Panic shifted to awe, filling his eyes, his heart. “He’s lively.”

“It’s a family meeting, after all. Why shouldn’t he be part of it?” Shawn raised his glass again. “Slainte.”

He went to visit Maude. Since he’d been used to seeing her once or twice a week most of his life, Shawn saw no reason that should change after death. And her resting place was a good spot for thinking.

It had nothing much to do with the fact that he would stroll near the cliff hotel on his way. It wasn’t likely he’d see Brenna, but, well, if he didn’t walk in that direction, there was no chance at all of seeing her.

As he recalled, Maude Fitzgerald had been the romantic sort, and he thought she’d appreciate the logic of it.

The hotel sat dramatically on the cliffs, with the sea spread before it. And though the air was brisk with morning, a scattering of guests were out and about enjoying the view. Shawn gave himself the pleasure of it as well, and as he watched the boats bob and sail over the water, he thanked his ancestors for going into the business of a public house rather than fishing.

There was Tim Riley and his crew hauling in nets while the waves kicked and danced. There was a rhythm to it that had Shawn tapping his foot and set pipe against cello in a musical duel in his head.

Shawn imagined the tourists thought the boats looked picturesque. They probably viewed the idea of making a living from the sea as a kind of romantic venture steeped in history and tradition. But as he stood, wind flowing through his dark hair and doing its best to sneak under his sweater, he could only think it a cold and lonely and capricious life.

He’d take a warm pub and a busy kitchen any day of the week.

But it was romance that whirled through Mary Kate’s mind when she rushed out after spotting him. She had to press a hand to her heart, as it filled with images.

She looked at Shawn, standing on the cliffs, legs spread, eyes on the horizon, and she saw Heathcliff, Rhett Butler, Lancelot, and every other heroic fantasy that might fill an infatuated young woman’s dreams.

She was glad she’d borrowed her sister Patty’s new blue blouse that morning, though Patty wasn’t going to be pleased about it. Making a valiant attempt to smooth her hair, Mary Kate hurried forward.

“Shawn.”

When he turned and saw her coming toward him, Shawn cursed himself. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of running into Brenna’s sister, not when he’d been so busy thinking of Brenna.