Born In Ice (33 page)

He'd barely hidden them in the bag when the door opened. Nurse Mannion, big as a halfback, bustled in. "Visiting hours are nearly over, Mr. Thane."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now, Miss Concannon, how are we doing? Any dizziness, nausea, blurred vision?"

"No, not at all. I'm feeling fine, really. In fact, I was wondering if-"

"That's good, that's good." Nurse Mannion easily over-road the expected request to leave as she made notes on the chart at the foot of the bed. "You should try to sleep. We'll be checking on you through the night, every three hours." Still moving briskly, she set a tray on the table beside the bed.

Brianna only had to take one look to go pale. "What's that? I told you I feel fine. I don't need a shot. I don't want one. Grayson."

"I, ah-" One steely glance from Nurse Mannion had him fumbling in the role of hero.

"It's not a shot. We just need to draw a little blood."

"What for?" Abandoning any pretense of dignity, Brianna cringed back. "I lost plenty. lake some of that."

"No nonsense now. Give me your arm."

"Brie. Look here." Gray linked his fingers with hers. "Look at me. Did I ever tell you about the first time I went to Mexico? I hooked up with some people and went out on their boat. This was in the Gulf. It was really beautiful. Balmy air, crystal blue seas. We saw this little barracuda swimming along the port side."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nurse Mannion slide the needle under Brianna's skin. And his stomach turned.

"Anyway, anyway," he said, speaking quickly. "One of the guys went to get his camera. He comes back, leans over the rail, and the mama barracuda jumps right up out of the water. It was like freeze frame. She looked right at the lens of the camera and smiled with all those teeth. Like a pose. Then she plopped back into the water, got her baby, and they swam away."

"You're making it up."

"God's truth," he said, lying desperately. "He got the picture, too. I think he sold it to National Geographic, or maybe it was the Enquirer. Last I heard he was still out in the Gulf of Mexico, hoping to repeat the experience."

"That's done." The nurse patted a bandage in the crook of Brianna's elbow. "Your dinner's on its way, miss, if you have room for it after your hamburger."

"Ah, no, thank you just the same. I think I'll just rest now."

"Five minutes, Mr. Thane."

Grayson scratched his chin when the door swung shut behind her. "Guess we didn't quite pull that off."

Now Brianna did pout. "You said you'd beat them up if they came in with needles."

"She's a lot bigger than me." He leaned over, kissed her lightly. "Poor Brie."

She tapped a finger on the book that lay on the bed beside her. "Ian would never have backed down."

"Well, hell, look how he's built. He could wrestle a horse. I'll never qualify for Dark Lord."

"I'll take you just the same. Grinning barracudas," she said and laughed. "How do you think of such things?"

"Talent, sheer talent." He went to the door, peeked out. "Don't see her. I'm going to turn off the light, duck into the bathroom. We'll give it ten minutes."

He read to her for two hours, taking her through Katrina's and Ian's perilous and romantic adventures by the tiny light of the book lamp. Now and again his hand would reach out and brush over hers, lingering over the moment of contact.

She knew she would always remember the sound of his voice, the way he slipped into a Scottish burr for the dialogue to amuse her. And the way he looked, she thought, the way his face was lit by the small bulb so that his eyes were dark, his cheekbones shadowed.

Her hero, she thought. Now and always. Closing her eyes, Brianna let the words he read drift over her.

"You're mine." Ian swept her into his arms, strong arms that trembled from the need that gripped him. By law and by right, you're mine. And I am pledged to you, Katrina, from this day, from this hour."

"And are you mine, Ian ?" Fearlessly she speared her fingers into his hair, drew him closer. "Are you mine, Dark Lord?"

"No one has ever loved you more than I." He swore it. No one ever will.

Brianna fell asleep wishing the words Gray read could be his own.

Gray watched her, knowing from the slow, steady sound of her breathing that she'd drifted off. He indulged himself then and buried his face in his hands. Keep it light. He'd promised himself he'd keep it light, and the strain was catching up with him.

She wasn't badly hurt. But no matter how often he reminded himself of that, he couldn't shake the bone-deep terror that had gripped him from the moment Murphy had stepped into the kitchen.

He didn't want her in a hospital, bruised and bandaged. He never wanted to think of her hurt in any way. And now he would always remember it, he would always know that something could happen to her. That she might not be, as he wanted her always to be, humming in her kitchen or babying her flowers.

It infuriated him that he would have this picture of her to carry with all the others. And it infuriated him all the more that he'd come to care so much he knew those pictures wouldn't fade as hundreds of other memories had.

He'd remember Brianna, and that tie would make it difficult to leave. And necessary to do so quickly.

He brooded over it as he waited for the night to pass. Each time a nurse would come to check Brianna, he listened to their murmured questions, her sleepy responses. Once, when he came back out, she called for him softly.

"Go back to sleep." He brushed the hair away from her brow. "It's not morning yet.

"Grayson." Drifting again, she reached for his hand. "You're still here."

"Yeah." He looked down at her, frowned. "I'm still here."

When she awoke again, it was light. Forgetting, she started to sit up, and the dull ache in her shoulder jarred her memory. More annoyed now than distressed, she touched her fingertips to the bandage on her head and looked around for Gray. She hoped he'd found some empty bed or waiting room couch to sleep on. She smiled at his flowers and wished she'd asked him to put them closer so that she could touch them as well.

Warily she tugged out the bodice of her nightgown, bit her lip. There was a rainbow of bruises down her breastbone and torso where the seat belt had secured her. Seeing them, she was grateful Gray had helped her change into the nightgown in the dark.

It wasn't fair, she thought. It wasn't right that she should look so battered for the last few days they had together. She wanted to be beautiful for him.

"Good morning, Miss Concannon, so you're awake." A nurse breezed in, all smiles and youth and blooming health. Brianna wanted to hate her.

"I am, yes. When will the doctor come to release me?"

"Oh, he'll be making his rounds soon, don't worry. Nurse Mannion said you passed a peaceful night." As she spoke, she strapped a blood pressure cuff on Brianna's arm, stuck a thermometer under her tongue. "No dizziness then? Good, good," she said when Brianna shook her head. She checked the blood pressure guage, nodded, slipped the thermometer back out and nodded again at the results. "Well, you're doing fine, then, aren't you?"

"I'm ready to go home."

"I'm sure you're anxious." The nurse made notes on the chart. "Your sister's called already this morning, and a Mr. Biggs. An American. He said he was the one who hit your car."

"Yes."

"We reassured them both that you're resting comfortably. The shoulder paining you?"

"A bit."

"You can have something for that now," she said, reading the chart.

"I don't want a shot."

"Oral." She smiled. "And your breakfast is coming. Oh, Nurse Mannion said you'd need two trays. One for Mr. Thane?" Obviously enjoying the joke, she glanced toward the bathroom. "I'll be leaving in just a moment, Mr. Thane, and you can come out. She says he's a most handsome man," the nurse murmured to Brianna. "With the devil's own smile."

"He is."

"Lucky you. I'll get you something for the pain."

When the door closed again, Gray stepped out of the bathroom, scowled. "What, does that woman have radar?"

"Were you really in there? Oh, Gray, I thought you'd found a place to sleep. Have you been up all night?"

"I'm used to being up all night. Hey, you look better." He came closer, his scowl fading into a look of sheer relief. "You really look better."

"I don't want to think of how I look. And you look tired."

"I don't feel tired now. Starving," he said, pressing a hand to his stomach. "But not tired. What do you think they'll feed us?"

"You are not going to carry me into the house."

"Yes, I am." Gray skirted the hood of his car and opened the passenger door. "The doctor said you could come home, if you took it easy, rested every afternoon, and avoided any heavy lifting."

"Well, I'm not lifting anything, am I?"

"Nope. I am." Careful of her shoulder, he slipped an arm behind her back, another behind her knees. "Women are supposed to think this kind of stuffs romantic."

"Under different circumstances. I can walk, Grayson. There's nothing wrong with my legs."

"Not a thing. They're great." He kissed her nose. "Haven't I mentioned that before?"

"I don't believe you have." She smiled, despite the fact that he'd bumped her shoulder and the bruises on her chest were aching. It was the thought, after all, that counted. "Well, since you're playing at being Dark Lord, sweep me inside, then. And I expect to be kissed. Well kissed."

"You've gotten awfully demanding since you got hit on the head." He carried her up the walk. "But I guess I have to indulge you."

Before he could reach for the door, it swung open and

Maggie rushed out. "There you are. It seems we've been waiting forever. How are you?"

"I'm being pampered. And if all of you don't watch out, I'll get used to it."

"Bring her inside, Gray. Is there anything in the car she needs?"

"About an acre of flowers."

"I'll fetch them." She dashed off as the Carstairs hurried into the hall from the parlor.

"Oh, Brianna, you poor, dear thing. We've been so worried. Johnny and I barely slept a wink thinking of you lying in the hospital that way. Such depressing places, hospitals. I can't think why anyone would choose to work in one, can you? Do you want some tea, a nice cool cloth? Anything at all?"

"No, thank you, Iris," Brianna managed when she could get a word in. "I'm sorry you were worried. It was only a little thing, really."

"Nonsense. A car accident, a night in the hospital. A concussion. Oh, does your poor head ache?"

It was beginning to.

"We're glad you're home again," Carstairs put in, and patted his wife's hand to calm her.

"I hope Mrs. O'Malley made you comfortable."

"She's a treasure, I assure you."

"Where do you want these flowers, Brie?" Maggie asked from behind a forest of posies.

"Oh, well-"

"I'll put them in your room," she decided for herself. "Rogan'll be up to see you as soon as Liam wakes from his nap. Oh, and you've had calls from the whole village, and enough baked goods sent over to feed an army for a week."

"There's our girl." Drying her hands on a towel, Lottie bustled out from the kitchen.

"Lottie. I didn't realize you were here."

"Of course I am. I'm going to see you settled and cared for. Grayson, take her right on into her room. She needs rest."

"Oh, but no. Grayson, put me down."

Gray only shifted his grip. "You're outnumbered. And if you don't behave, I won't read you the rest of the book."

"This is nonsense." Over her protests Brianna found herself in her room being laid on the bed. "I might as well be back in the hospital."

"Now, don't make a fuss. I'm going to make you a nice cup of tea." Lottie began arranging pillows, smoothing sheets. "Then you'll nap. You're going to be flooded with visitors before long and you need your rest."

"At least let me have my knitting."

"We'll see about that later. Gray, you can keep her company. See that she stays put."

Brianna poked out a lip, folded her arms. "Go away," she told him. "I don't need you about if you won't stand up for me."

"Well, well, the truth comes out." Eyeing her, he leaned comfortably on the doorjamb. "You're quite a shrew, aren't you?"

"A shrew, is it? I complain at being bullied and ordered about and that makes me a shrew?"

"You're pouting and complaining about being cared for and looked after. That makes you a shrew."

She opened her mouth, closed it again. "Well, then, I am."

"You need your pills." He took the prescription bottle out of his pocket, then walked into the bathroom to fill a glass with water.

"They make me groggy," she muttered when he came back, holding out the capsule.

"Do you want me to have to pinch your nose to get you to open up and swallow."

The notion of that humiliation had her snatching the pill, then the glass. "There. Happy?"

"I'll be happy when you stop hurting."

The fight went out of her. "I'm sorry, Gray. I'm behaving so badly."

"You're in pain." He sat on the side of the bed, took her hand. "I've been battered a couple of times myself. The first day's a misery. The second's hell."

She sighed. "I thought it would be better, and I'm angry it's not. I don't mean to snap at you."

"Here's your tea now, lamb." Lottie came in and balanced the saucer in Brianna's hands. "And let's get these shoes off so you'll be comfortable."

"Lottie. Thank you for being here."

"Oh, you don't have to thank me for that. Mrs. O'Malley and I'll keep things running around here till you're feeling yourself again. Don't you fret over a thing." She spread a light blanket over Brianna's legs. "Grayson, you see that she rests now, won't you?"

"You can count on it." On impulse he rose to kiss Lottie's cheek. "You're a sweetheart, Lottie Sullivan."

"Oh, go on." Flushing with pleasure, she bustled back into the kitchen.

"So are you, Grayson Thane," Brianna murmured. "A sweetheart."

"Oh, go on," he said. He tilted his head. "Can she cook?"

She laughed as he'd hoped she would. "A fine cook is our Lottie, and it wouldn't take much to charm a cobbler from her. If you've a taste for one."

"I'll keep that in mind. Maggie brought in the book." He picked it up from where Maggie had set it on Brianna's night table. "Are you up for another chapter of blistering medieval romance?"

"I am."

"You fell asleep while I was reading last night," he said as he paged through the book. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"When he told her he loved her."

"Well, that certainly narrows it down."

"The first time." She patted the bed, wanting him to sit beside her again. "No one forgets the first time they hear it." His fingers fumbled on the pages, stilled, and he said nothing. Understanding, Brianna touched his arm. "You mustn't let it worry you, Grayson. What I feel for you isn't meant to worry you."

It did. Of course it did. But there was something else, and he thought he could give her that, at least. "It humbles

me Brianna." He lifted his gaze, those golden-brown eyes uncertain. "And it staggers me."

"One day, when you remember the first time you heard it, I hope it pleasures you." Content for now, she sipped her tea, smiled. "Tell me a story, Grayson "

Chapter Twenty-four

He didn't leave on the first of June as he'd planned. He could have. Knew he should have. But it seemed wrong, certainly cowardly, to go before he was positive Brianna was well on the mend.

The bandages came off. He'd seen for himself the bruises and had iced down the swelling of her shoulder. He'd suffered when she turned in her sleep and caused herself discomfort. He scolded when she overdid.

He didn't make love with her.

He wanted her, hourly. At first he'd been afraid even the most gentle of touches would hurt her. Then he decided it was best as it was. A kind of segue, he thought, from lover, to friend, to memory. Surely it would be easier for them both if his remaining days with her were spent in friendship and not in passion.

His book was finished, but he didn't mail it. Gray convinced himself he should take a quick detour to New York before his tour and hand it over to Arlene personally. If he thought, from time to time, how he had asked Brianna to go off with him for a little while, he told himself it was best forgotten.

For her sake, of course. He was only thinking of her.

He saw, through the window, that she was taking down the wash. Her hair was loose, blowing back from her face in the stiff western breeze. Behind her, the finished greenhouse glistened in the sunlight. Beside her, flowers she'd planted swayed and danced. He watched as she unhooked a clothespin, popped it back on the line, moved onto the next, gathering billowing sheets as she went.

She was, he thought, a postcard. Something that personified a place, a time, a way of life. Day after day, he thought, year after year, she would hang her clothes and linens to dry in the wind and the sun. And gather them up again. And with her, and those like her, the repetition wouldn't be monotony. It would be tradition-one that made her strong and self-reliant.

Oddly disturbed, he walked outside. "You're using that arm too much."

"The doctor said exercise was good for it." She glanced over her shoulder. The smile that curved her lips didn't reach her eyes, and hadn't for days. He was moving away from her so quickly, she couldn't keep up. "I barely have a twinge now. It's a glorious day, isn't it? The family staying with us drove to Ballybunion to the beach. Da used to take Maggie and me there sometimes, to swim and eat icecream cones."

"If you'd wanted to go to the beach, you'd only had to ask. I'd have taken you."

The tone of his voice had her spine stiffening. Her movements became more deliberate as she unpinned a pillowslip, "That's kind of you, I'm sure, Grayson. But I don't have time for a trip to the sea. I've work to do."

"All you do is work," he exploded. "You break your back over this place. If you're not cooking, you're scrubbing, if you're not scrubbing, you're washing. For Christ's sake, Brianna, it's just a house."

"No." She folded the pillowslip in half, then half again before laying it in her wicker basket. " 'Tis my home, and it pleases me to cook in it, and scrub in it, and wash in it."

"And never look past it."

"And where are you looking, Grayson Thane, that's so damned important?" She choked off the bubbling temper, reverted to ice. "And who are you to criticize me for making a home for myself."

"Is it a home-or a trap?"

She turned then, and her eyes were neither hot nor cold, but full of grief. "Is that how you think, really, in your heart? That one is the same as the other, and must be? If it is, truly, I'm sorry for you."

"I don't want sympathy," he shot back. "All I'm saying is that you work too hard, for too little."

"I don't agree, nor is that all you said. Perhaps it was all you meant to say." She bent down and picked up her basket. "And it's more than you've said to me for these past five days."

"Don't be ridiculous." He reached out to take the basket from her, but she jerked it away. "I talk to you all the time. Let me take that."

"I'll take it myself. I'm not a bloody invalid." Impatiently she set the basket at her hip. "You've talked at me and around me, Grayson, these last days. But to me, and of anything you were really thinking or feeling, no. You haven't talked to me, and you haven't touched me. Wouldn't it be more honest to just tell me you don't want me anymore?"

"Don't-" She was already stalking past him toward the house. He'd nearly grabbed at her before he stopped himself. "Where did you get an idea that like?"

"Every night." She let the door swing back and nearly caught him in the face with it. "You sleep with me, but you don't touch me. And if I turn to you, you turn away."

"You're just out of the fucking hospital."

"I've been out of the hospital for nearly two weeks. And don't swear at me. Or if you must swear, don't lie." She slapped the basket onto the kitchen table. "Anxious to be gone is what you are, and not sure how to be gracious about it. And you're tired of me." She snapped a sheet out of the basket and folded it neatly, corner to corner. "And haven't figured out how to say so."

"That's bullshit. That's just bullshit."

"It's funny how your way with words suffers when you're angry." She flipped the sheet over her arm in a practiced move, mating bottom to top. "And you're thinking, poor Brie, she'll be breaking her heart over me. Well, I won't." Another fold, and the sheet was a neat square to be laid on the scrubbed kitchen table. "I did well enough before you came along, and I'll do well enough after."

"Very cool words from someone who claims to be in love."

"I am in love with you." She took out another sheet, and calmly began the same routine. "Which makes me a fool to be sure for loving a man so cowardly he's afraid of his own feelings. Afraid of love because he didn't have it as a boy. Afraid to make a home because he never knew one."

"We're not talking about what I was," Gray said evenly.

"No, you think you can run away from that, and do every time you pack your bag and hop the next plane or train. Well, you can't. Any more than I can stay in one place and pretend I grew up happy in it. I missed my share of love, too, but I'm not afraid of it."

Calmer now, she laid the second sheet down. "I'm not afraid to love you, Grayson. I'm not afraid to let you go. But I'm afraid we'll both be sorry if we don't part honestly."

He couldn't escape that calm understanding in her eyes. "I don't know what you want, Brianna." And he was afraid, for the first time in his adult memory, that he didn't know what he wanted himself. For himself.

It was hard for her to say it, but she thought it would be harder not to. "I want you to touch me, to lie with me. And if you've no desire for me anymore, it would hurt much less if you'd tell me so."

He stared at her. He couldn't see what it was costing her.

She wouldn't let him see, only stood, her back straight, her eyes level, waiting.

"Brianna, I can't breathe without wanting you." "Then have me now, in the daylight." Defeated, he stepped forward, cupped her face in his hands. "I wanted to make it easier for you." "Don't. Just be with me now. For now." He picked her up, made her smile as she pressed her lips to his throat. "Just like in the book."

"Better," he promised as he carried her into the bedroom. "This will be better than any book." He set her on her feet, combing her wind-tossed hair back from her face before reaching for the buttons of her blouse. "I've suffered lying beside you at night and not touching you." "There was no need."

"I thought there was." Very gently he traced a fingertip over the yellowing marks on her skin. "You're still bruised."

"They're fading."

"I'll remember how they looked. And how my stomach clenched when I saw them. How I'd tighten up inside when you'd moan in your sleep." A little desperate, he lifted his gaze to hers. "I don't want to care this much about anyone, Brianna."

"I know." She leaned forward, pressed her cheek to his. "Don't worry on it now. There's only us two, and I've been missing you so." With her eyes half closed, she ran a line of kisses up his jaw while her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt. "Come to bed, Grayson," she murmured, sliding the shirt from his shoulders. "Come with me."

A sigh of the mattress, a rustle of sheets, and they were in each other's arms. She lifted her face, and her mouth sought his. The first frisson of pleasure shuddered through her, then the next as the kiss went deep.

His fingertips were cool against her flesh, soft strokes as he stripped her. And his lips were light over the fading bruises, as if by wish alone he could vanish them.

A bird sang in the little pear tree outside, and the breeze sent the fairy dance she'd hung singing, billowed the delicate lace of her curtains. It fluttered over his bare back as he shifted over her, as he laid his cheek under her heart. The gesture made her smile, cradle his head in her hands.