Born in Ice Page 29

  When Gray hurried back, the overnight bag clutched in his hand, Lottie was helping Maggie toward Brianna's car. Every guest in the house was outside, waving them off.

  "Oh, thank you for being quick." Brianna snatched the case, then looked around distractedly. "Rogan's on his way to the hospital. He hung up before I could even say goodbye. The doctor said to bring her right in. I have to go with her."

  "Of course you do. She'll be fine."

  "Yes, she'll be fine." Brianna nibbled on her thumb nail. "I have to leave-all the guests."

  "Don't worry about things here. I'll take care of it."

  "You can't cook."

  "I'll take the lot of them out to dinner. Don't worry, Brie."

  "No, it's silly of me. I'm so distracted. I'm so sorry, Gray."

  "Don't." Steadier himself, he took her face in his hands. "Don't even think about any of that now. Just go help your sister have a baby."

  "I will. Could you call Mrs. O'Malley, please? Her number's in my book. She'll come tend to things until I get home again. And if you'd call Murphy. He'd want to know. And-"

  "Brie, go. I'll call the whole county." Despite the audience, he gave her a quick, hard kiss. "Have Rogan send me a cigar."

  "Yes. All right, yes, I'm going." She hurried to the car.

  Gray stood back and watched her drive away, with Lottie and Maeve following behind.

  Families, he thought, with a shake of the head and a shudder. Thank Christ he didn't have to worry about one.

  But he worried about her. As afternoon became evening and evening became night. Mrs. O'Malley had come, bustling into the kitchen barely half an hour after his SOS call. Rattling pans, she chattered cheerfully about the childbirth experience, until queasy, Gray had retreated to his room. He fared better when Murphy came down and shared a glass of whiskey with him in toast to Maggie and the baby.

  But as the inn grew quiet and the hour late, Gray wasn't able to work or sleep-two activities he'd always used for escape.

  Being wakeful gave him too much time to think. However much he wanted to avoid it, the kitchen scene played over and over in his head. What kind of trouble had he caused Brianna simply by wanting her, then acting on the wanting? He hadn't considered her family, or her religion. Did she believe as her mother did?

  It made him uneasy to think of souls and eternal damnation. Anything eternal made him uneasy, and damnation certainly topped the list.

  Or had Maggie spoken Brianna's mind. That was hardly less disturbing. All that talk of love. From his point of view love could be every bit as dangerous as damnation, and he preferred to dwell on neither on a personal level.

  Why couldn't people keep things simple? he wondered as he wandered into Brianna's room. Complications were part and parcel of fiction, but in reality life was so much smoother one day at a time.

  But it was stupid, he admitted, and incredibly naive to pretend that Brianna Concannon wasn't a complication. Hadn't he admitted already that she was unique? Restless, he lifted the top off a small bottle on her dresser. And smelled her.

  He just wanted to be with her-for the time being, he told himself. They enjoyed each other, liked each other. At this particular time and this particular place, they suited each other well.

  Of course, he could back off any time. Of course he could. With a little snarl he shot the top back in the bottle.

  But her scent remained with him.

  She wasn't in love with him. Maybe she thought she was, because he was her first. That was natural. And maybe, just maybe, he was a little more involved with her than he'd ever been with anyone else. Because she was unlike anyone else. So that was natural, too.

  Still and all, when his book was finished, they would have to be finished as well. He'd be moving on. Lifting his head, he stared at himself in the mirror. No surprises there, he thought. It was same face. If there was a faint light of panic in the eyes, he chose to ignore it.

  Grayson Thane looked back at him. The man he'd made from nothing. A man he was comfortable with. A man, he told himself now, who moved through life as he chose to move. Free, no baggage, no regrets.

  There were memories. He could block the unpleasant ones. He'd been doing that for years. One day, he thought, he'd look back and remember Brianna, and that would be enough.

  Why the hell hadn't she called?

  He checked himself, turned away from the mirror before he could see something he preferred to avoid. No need for her to call, he told himself and poked through the books on her shelf. It was her business, family business, and he had no part in it. Wanted no part in it.

  He was curious, that was all, about Maggie and the baby. If he was waiting up, it was only to satisfy that curiosity.

  Feeling better, he chose a book, stretched out on her bed, and began to read.

  Brianna found him there at three A.M. She staggered in on a wave of joy and fatigue to see him asleep on top of her blankets, an open book on his chest. She beamed at him, foolishly, she knew. But it was a night for foolishness.

  Quietly she undressed, folded her clothes over a chair, slipped into a nightgown. In the adjoining bath she scrubbed the tiredness from her face. She caught her own grinning reflection in the mirror, and laughed.

  Padding back into the bedroom, she bent down to pet Con, who was curled on the rug at the foot of the bed. With a sigh she turned off the light and laid down without bothering to turn down the covers.

  He turned to her instantly, his arm draping over her, his face nuzzling her hair. "Brie." His voice was thick with sleep. "Missed you."

  "I'm back now." She shifted, curving to him. "Just sleep."

  "Hard to sleep without you. Too many old dreams without you."

  "Ssh." She stroked him, felt herself start to drift. "I'm right here."

  He came fully awake with a snap, blinking, confused. "Brie." He cleared his throat and pushed himself up. "You're back."

  "Yes. You fell asleep reading."

  "Oh. Yeah." After scrubbing his hands over his face, he squinted to see her in the dim light. It came flooding back. "Maggie?"

  "She's fine, she's wonderful. Oh, it was beautiful to see, Gray." Excited all over again, she sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees. "She was cursing Rogan, vowing all sorts of hideous revenge on him. He just kept kissing her hands and telling her to breathe. Then she'd laugh, tell him she loved him, and curse him all over again. I've never seen a man so nervous and awed and loving all at once."

  She sighed again, not even aware her cheeks were wet. "There was all this confusion and chattering, arguing, just as you'd expect. Whenever they tried to boot us out, Maggie would threaten to get up and leave herself. 'My family stays,' says she, 'or I go with them.' So we stayed. And it was so... marvellous."

  Gray wiped her tears himself. "Are you going to tell me what she had?"

  "A boy." Brianna sniffled. "The most beautiful boy. He has black hair, like Rogan's. It curls around his little head like a halo. And he has Maggie's eyes. They're blue now, of course, but the shape of them's Maggie's. And he wailed so, like he was cursing the lot of us for bringing him into this mess. His little fingers all clenched into fists. Liam, they named him. Liam Matthew Sweeney. They let me hold him." She rested her head on Gray's shoulder. "He looked at me."

  "Are you going to tell me he smiled at you?"

  "No." But she smiled. "No, that he didn't. He looked at me, very serious like, as if he was after wondering what he was to make of all this business. I've never held a life so new before. It's like nothing else, nothing else in the world." She turned her face into his throat. "I wish you could have been there."

  To his amazement, he found he wished the same. "Well, somebody had to mind the ranch. Your Mrs. O'Malley came on the fly."

  "Bless her. I'll call her up tomorrow to give her the news and thank her."

  "She doesn't cook as well as you."

  "You don't think so?" She grinned to herself, delighted. "I hope you didn't say so."

  "I'm the s
oul of diplomacy. So." He kissed Brianna's temple. "She had a boy. What's the weight?"

  "Seven pounds, one ounce."

  "And the time-you know, when she had it?"

  "Oh, it was about half one."

  "Shit, looks like the German copped the pool."

  "Pardon?"

  "The pool. We had a baby pool going. Sex, weight, time of birth. I'm pretty sure the German guy-Krause-hit the closest."

  "A betting pool, is it? And whose idea was that?"

  Gray ran his tongue around his teeth. "Murphy's," he said. "The man'll bet on anything."

  "And what was your guess?"

  "Girl, seven and a half pounds, straight up midnight." He kissed her again. "Where's my cigar?"

  "Rogan sent you along a fine one. It's in my purse."

  "I'll take it down to the pub tomorrow. Somebody's bound to be handing out free drinks."

  "Oh, you can bet on that as well." She took a little breath, locked her fingers together. "Grayson, about this afternoon. My mother."

  "You don't have to say anything about that. I walked in at a bad moment, that's all."

  "It's not all, and it's foolish to pretend it is."

  "All right." He'd known she'd insist on hashing it out, but he couldn't bear to see her mood lowered. "We won't pretend. Let's not think about it tonight, though. We'll talk about it later, as much as you need to. Tonight's for celebrating, don't you think?"

  Relief warmed her. Her emotions had ridden on a roller coaster long enough that day. "I do, yes."

  "I bet you haven't eaten." "I haven't."

  "Why don't I get us some of the cold chicken that's left over from dinner? We'll eat in bed."

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was easy enough to avoid serious subjects over the next week. Gray buried himself in his work, and Brianna's time was stretched thin between her guests and her new nephew. Whenever she had a spare minute, she found some excuse to dart down to Maggie's cottage and fuss over the new mother and baby. Maggie was too enraptured with her son to do more than give a few token complaints about missing the opening of her new gallery.

  Gray had to admit the kid was a winner. He'd wandered down to the cottage himself a time or two when he needed to stretch his legs and clear his mind.

  Early evening was the best time, when the light took on that luminous glow so special to Ireland, and the air was so clear he could see for miles across the emerald hills with the sun striking down on the thin ribbon of river in the distance making it flash like a silver sword.

  He found Rogan, dressed in a T-shirt and old jeans, in the front garden, plucking industriously at weeds. An interesting look, Gray mused, for a man who could likely afford a platoon of gardeners.

  "Hiya, Pop." Grinning, Gray leaned on the garden gate.

  Rogan shifted back on the worn heels of his boots. "Ah, a man. Come in and join me. I've been evicted. Women." He jerked his head toward the cottage. "Maggie and Brie and Murphy's sister Kate up for a visit, and some of the village ladies. Discussing breast feeding and delivery room war stories."

  "Yeah." Gray gave the cottage a pained look as he swung through the gate. "It sounds to me more like you escaped than got kicked out."

  "True enough. Being outnumbered I can't get near Liam. And Brianna pointed out that Maggie shouldn't be doing the gardening yet, and it's getting overrun. Then she lifted her brow at me in that way of hers. So I took the hint." He looked longingly back at the cottage. "We could try sneaking into the kitchen for a beer."

  "It's safer out here." Gray sat down, folded his legs. Companionably, he reached out and pulled a weed. At least it looked like a weed. "I've been wanting to talk to you anyway. About that stock certificate."

  "Which stock certificate is that?"

  "The Triquarter Mining thing."

  "Ah, yes. That business slipped my mind with all that's been going on. Brianna heard from them, didn't she?"

  "She heard from someone." Gray scratched his chin. "I had my broker do a little digging. It's interesting."