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."