Born in Ice
Page 34
Brianna was rewarded with a laugh. After setting the teacup on the table beside Brianna, Lottie touched her cold cheek. “There’s a girl,” she murmured.
A family from Helsinki stayed the weekend at Blackthorn. Brianna was kept busy catering to the couple and their three children. Out of pity, she scooted Con off to Murphy. The towheaded three-year-old couldn’t seem to resist pulling ears and tail—an indignity which Concobar suffered silently.
Unexpected guests helped keep her mind off the emotional upheaval her mother had stirred. The family was loud, boisterous, and as hungry as bears just out of hibernation.
Brianna enjoyed every moment of them.
She bid them goodbye with kisses for the children and a dozen tea cakes for their journey south. The moment their car passed out of sight, Gray crept up behind her.
“Are they gone?”
“Oh.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “You scared the life out of me.” Turning, she pushed at the stray wisps escaping her topknot. “I thought you’d come down to say goodbye to the Svensons. Little Jon asked about you.”
“I still have little Jon’s sticky fingerprints over half my body and most of my papers.” With a wry grin Gray tucked his thumbs in his front pockets. “Cute kid, but, Jesus, he never stopped.”
“Three-year-olds are usually active.”
“You’re telling me. Give one piggyback ride and you’re committed for life.”
Now she smiled, remembering. “You looked very sweet with him. I imagine he’ll always remember the Yank who played with him at the Irish inn.” She tilted her head. “And he was holding the little lorry you bought him yesterday when he left.”
“Lorry—oh, the truck, right.” He shrugged. “I just happened to see it when I was taking a breather in the village.”
“Just happened to see it,” she repeated with a slow nod. “As well as the two dolls for the little girls.”
“That’s right. Anyway, I usually get a kick out of OPKs.”
“OPKs?”
“Other people’s kids. But now”—he slipped his hands neatly around her waist—“we’re alone again.”
In a quick defensive move she pressed a hand to his chest before he could draw her closer. “I’ve errands to do.”
He looked down at her hand, lifted a brow. “Errands.”
“That’s right, and I’ve a mountain of wash to do when I get back.”
“Are you going to hang out the wash? I love to watch you hang it on the line—especially when there’s a breeze. It’s incredibly sexy.”
“What a foolish thing to say.”
His grin only widened. “There’s something to be said for making you blush, too.”
“I’m not blushing.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks. “I’m impatient. I need to be off, Grayson.”
“How about this, I’ll take you where you need to go.” Before she could speak, he lowered his mouth, brushed it lightly over hers. “I’ve missed you, Brianna.”
“You can’t have. I’ve been right here.”
“I’ve missed you.” He watched her lashes lower. Her shy, uncertain responses to him gave him an odd sense of power. All ego, he thought, amused at himself. “Where’s your list?”
“My list?”
“You’ve always got one.”
Her gaze shifted up again. Those misty-green eyes were aware, and just a little afraid. Gray felt the surge of heat spear up from the balls of his feet straight to the loins. His fingers tightened convulsively on her waist before he forced himself to step back, let out a breath.
“Taking it slow is killing me,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind. Get your list and whatever. I’ll drive you.”
“I don’t have a list. I’ve only to go to my mother’s and help her and Lottie pack for their trip. There’s no need for you to take me.”
“I could use the drive. How long will you be there?”
“Two hours, perhaps three.”
“I’ll drop you off, pick you up. I’m going out anyway,” he continued before she could argue. “It’ll save petrol.”
“All right. If you’re sure. I’ll just be a minute.”
While he waited, Gray stepped into the path of the front garden. In the month he’d been there, he’d seen gales, rain, and the luminous light of the Irish sun. He’d sat in village pubs and listened to gossip, traditional music. He’d wandered down lanes where farmers herded their cows from field to field, and had walked up the winding steps of ruined castles, hearing the echoes of war and death. He’d visited grave sites and had stood on the verge of towering cliffs looking out on the rolling sea.
Of all the places he’d visited, none seemed quite so appealing as the view from Brianna’s front garden. But he wasn’t altogether certain if it was the spot or the woman he was waiting for. Either way, he decided, his time here would certainly be one of the most satisfying slices of his life.
After he dropped Brianna off at the tidy house outside Ennis, he went wandering. For more than an hour he clambered over rocks at the Burren, taking pictures in his head. The sheer vastness delighted him, as did the Druid’s Altar that drew so many tourists with their clicking cameras.
He drove aimlessly, stopping where he chose—a small beach deserted but for a small boy and a huge dog, a field where goats cropped and the wind whispered through tall grass, a small village where a woman counted out his change for his candy bar purchase with curled, arthritic fingers, then offered him a smile as sweet as sunlight.
A ruined abbey with a round tower caught his eye and had him pulling off the road to take a closer look. The round towers of Ireland fascinated him, but he’d found them primarily on the east coast. To guard, he supposed, from the influx of invasions across the Irish Sea. This one was whole, undamaged, and set at a curious slant. Gray spent some time circling, studying, and wondering how he could use it.
There were graves there as well, some old, some new. He had always been intrigued by the way generations could mingle so comfortably in death when they rarely managed it in life. For himself, he would take the Viking way—a ship out to sea and a torch.
But for a man who dealt in death a great deal, he preferred not to linger his thoughts overmuch on his own mortality.
A family from Helsinki stayed the weekend at Blackthorn. Brianna was kept busy catering to the couple and their three children. Out of pity, she scooted Con off to Murphy. The towheaded three-year-old couldn’t seem to resist pulling ears and tail—an indignity which Concobar suffered silently.
Unexpected guests helped keep her mind off the emotional upheaval her mother had stirred. The family was loud, boisterous, and as hungry as bears just out of hibernation.
Brianna enjoyed every moment of them.
She bid them goodbye with kisses for the children and a dozen tea cakes for their journey south. The moment their car passed out of sight, Gray crept up behind her.
“Are they gone?”
“Oh.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “You scared the life out of me.” Turning, she pushed at the stray wisps escaping her topknot. “I thought you’d come down to say goodbye to the Svensons. Little Jon asked about you.”
“I still have little Jon’s sticky fingerprints over half my body and most of my papers.” With a wry grin Gray tucked his thumbs in his front pockets. “Cute kid, but, Jesus, he never stopped.”
“Three-year-olds are usually active.”
“You’re telling me. Give one piggyback ride and you’re committed for life.”
Now she smiled, remembering. “You looked very sweet with him. I imagine he’ll always remember the Yank who played with him at the Irish inn.” She tilted her head. “And he was holding the little lorry you bought him yesterday when he left.”
“Lorry—oh, the truck, right.” He shrugged. “I just happened to see it when I was taking a breather in the village.”
“Just happened to see it,” she repeated with a slow nod. “As well as the two dolls for the little girls.”
“That’s right. Anyway, I usually get a kick out of OPKs.”
“OPKs?”
“Other people’s kids. But now”—he slipped his hands neatly around her waist—“we’re alone again.”
In a quick defensive move she pressed a hand to his chest before he could draw her closer. “I’ve errands to do.”
He looked down at her hand, lifted a brow. “Errands.”
“That’s right, and I’ve a mountain of wash to do when I get back.”
“Are you going to hang out the wash? I love to watch you hang it on the line—especially when there’s a breeze. It’s incredibly sexy.”
“What a foolish thing to say.”
His grin only widened. “There’s something to be said for making you blush, too.”
“I’m not blushing.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks. “I’m impatient. I need to be off, Grayson.”
“How about this, I’ll take you where you need to go.” Before she could speak, he lowered his mouth, brushed it lightly over hers. “I’ve missed you, Brianna.”
“You can’t have. I’ve been right here.”
“I’ve missed you.” He watched her lashes lower. Her shy, uncertain responses to him gave him an odd sense of power. All ego, he thought, amused at himself. “Where’s your list?”
“My list?”
“You’ve always got one.”
Her gaze shifted up again. Those misty-green eyes were aware, and just a little afraid. Gray felt the surge of heat spear up from the balls of his feet straight to the loins. His fingers tightened convulsively on her waist before he forced himself to step back, let out a breath.
“Taking it slow is killing me,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind. Get your list and whatever. I’ll drive you.”
“I don’t have a list. I’ve only to go to my mother’s and help her and Lottie pack for their trip. There’s no need for you to take me.”
“I could use the drive. How long will you be there?”
“Two hours, perhaps three.”
“I’ll drop you off, pick you up. I’m going out anyway,” he continued before she could argue. “It’ll save petrol.”
“All right. If you’re sure. I’ll just be a minute.”
While he waited, Gray stepped into the path of the front garden. In the month he’d been there, he’d seen gales, rain, and the luminous light of the Irish sun. He’d sat in village pubs and listened to gossip, traditional music. He’d wandered down lanes where farmers herded their cows from field to field, and had walked up the winding steps of ruined castles, hearing the echoes of war and death. He’d visited grave sites and had stood on the verge of towering cliffs looking out on the rolling sea.
Of all the places he’d visited, none seemed quite so appealing as the view from Brianna’s front garden. But he wasn’t altogether certain if it was the spot or the woman he was waiting for. Either way, he decided, his time here would certainly be one of the most satisfying slices of his life.
After he dropped Brianna off at the tidy house outside Ennis, he went wandering. For more than an hour he clambered over rocks at the Burren, taking pictures in his head. The sheer vastness delighted him, as did the Druid’s Altar that drew so many tourists with their clicking cameras.
He drove aimlessly, stopping where he chose—a small beach deserted but for a small boy and a huge dog, a field where goats cropped and the wind whispered through tall grass, a small village where a woman counted out his change for his candy bar purchase with curled, arthritic fingers, then offered him a smile as sweet as sunlight.
A ruined abbey with a round tower caught his eye and had him pulling off the road to take a closer look. The round towers of Ireland fascinated him, but he’d found them primarily on the east coast. To guard, he supposed, from the influx of invasions across the Irish Sea. This one was whole, undamaged, and set at a curious slant. Gray spent some time circling, studying, and wondering how he could use it.
There were graves there as well, some old, some new. He had always been intrigued by the way generations could mingle so comfortably in death when they rarely managed it in life. For himself, he would take the Viking way—a ship out to sea and a torch.
But for a man who dealt in death a great deal, he preferred not to linger his thoughts overmuch on his own mortality.
