by Nora Roberts
Shopping, he thought as he dressed. She'd enjoy that. He'd turn her loose in one of the boutiques and buy her whatever caught her fancy. Take her to tea at the Ritz, then seduce her into a private dinner at home.
If it made him a little uncomfortable, even a little ashamed to realize that he was showing off, trying to dazzle her with what he had at his disposal, he'd just have to live with it.
Damn it, he wanted another day with her. Two. A week. Somewhere they could be alone, without any distractions, any interruptions, any thought of business.
They'd burn each other out, he supposed, but Jesus, it would be a hell of a ride before they crashed.
On a whim, he pulled one of the white roses from the vase, scribbled a quick note and laid it on the pillow beside her. Then he found himself sitting on the side of the bed watching her. That perfect face, serene in sleep. All that glorious hair tumbled from his own hand in the night. The bracelet he'd given her flashed and blinked on her wrist, and he knew she wore nothing else.
But his blood didn't leap with lust. Rather it ran warm. Affection, he told himself. It was just affection, running alongside the desire he felt for her. He hadn't been glib when he'd told her he liked almost everything about her. She was a woman who attracted, entertained, challenged, annoyed, and amused. He understood her materialistic streak and didn't blame her for it.
But for a moment, just one foolish moment, he wished they'd met and clicked just as they had without her knowing the generosity of his bank balance.
She'd told him her mind right at the beginning. She wanted money, she wanted luxury. And she was willing to slide into a union with the right man, as long as he was willing and able to provide them.
He didn't intend to be taken for his money. Not now, not ever. Even if he was willing to use it to entertain them both in the short-term.
Shrugging that off, he leaned over to brush a kiss across her cheek, then left her sleeping.
She didn't stir for more than an hour after he'd gone, then rolled over lazily. The first thing she saw when she blinked her eyes open was the rose.
It made her smile, and it made her yearn. She reached for it, stroking its petals as she sat up and read his note.
I'll be done by two, and pick you up. I'm hoping you'll put yourself in my hands for the rest of the afternoon. Trev.
She'd certainly put herself in his hands the night before, she thought now and contentedly settled back against the pillows. What a lovely, lovely way to wake, she mused and stroked the rosebud against her cheek. She considered wandering down for breakfast, or being completely indulgent and ordering it up so she could have it in bed like royalty.
The second picture had such appeal that she reached for the phone. When it rang, she jerked back, then laughed at herself.
She didn't think she was supposed to answer it, so she climbed out of bed for her robe. The knock on her door came as she was belting it.
"Yes, come in."
"Excuse me, Miss Gallagher, but Mr. Magee's on the telephone and would like to speak with you."
"Of course, thank you." Darcy picked up the rose again and feeling blissfully romantic and lazy, lifted the receiver. "Trevor, hello. I've just read your note, and I'd be happy to put myself in your hands."
"I'm on my way back now."
"This minute? It's a while till two."
"Darcy, I have to get back to Ardmore right away. Mick O'Toole's been injured on the job."
"Injured?" She leaped to her feet. "How? Is he all right? What happened?"
"He took a fall. He's in the hospital. I just heard and I don't have all the details."
"I'll be ready to go when you get here. Hurry."
She hung up without another word, dragged out her suitcase, and began throwing clothes inside.
The trip back seemed hideously long. Darcy alternated between praying and listening to Trevor as he gathered more details about the accident.
"He was up on the scaffolding," Trevor told her. "One of the crew tripped, as far as we can tell, and Mick was knocked off or slipped off. He was unconscious when the ambulance came for him."
"But alive." Her knuckles went white as she locked her hands together.
"Yes, Darcy." He took her hands, soothing them apart. "They think concussion and a broken arm. They'll have to check for internal injuries."
"Internal injuries." Her stomach rolled, then went to slippery knots. "That always sounds so dire, so mysterious." When her voice broke, she shook her head. "No, I'm not going to fall apart on you. Don't worry."
"I didn't realize you were so close."
"He's like family." Tears rushed into her eyes and were viciously willed away. "The closest thing to my own father. Brenna- all of them, they must be frantic. I should be there."
"You will be."
"I want to go straight to the hospital. Can you arrange for a car to take me there?"
"We'll both go straight there."
"Oh, I thought you'd need to go to the job. All right." She pressed her fingers to her eyes, took several breaths. "I'm scared. I'm so awfully scared."
He put his arm around her and held her until they landed.
And he watched her gather herself, steady herself on the drive from the airport. Her eyes were dry and calm, her hands quiet in her lap. By the time they arrived and walked down the corridor where they were directed, she was completely composed.
"Mrs. O'Toole."
Mollie looked over, rose from where she sat with all five of her daughters. "Oh, Darcy, there you are-and had to cut your lovely trip short."
"Tell me how he is, won't you?" She took Mollie's hands, held fast and tried not to think that both Maureen and Mary Kate were crying.
"Well, now, he took a bump. They're doing some tests on his head and so forth. You know the man has a mighty strong head, so we're not going to worry about that."
"Of course not." She gave Mollie's chilled hands a squeeze. "Why don't I see about getting us all some fresh tea? You just sit down now, darling, while I organize that for you. Brenna, why don't you give me a hand with it and we'll get us all a nice hot cup."
"Bless you, Darcy, that would be a godsend. Mr. Magee." Mollie worked up a tremulous smile. "It's so kind of you to be here."
He met Brenna's eyes as she rose, nodded, then took Mollie's hand and led her back to a chair.
"Tell me what happened," Darcy demanded the minute they were out of earshot. "And how bad it is."
"I didn't see it, exactly." Because her voice felt rusty, Brenna cleared her throat. "It seems Bobby Fitzgerald lost his footing while he was hauling block up on the scaffold. Dad turned, I think, to steady him, but they were both off their balance and the floor of it was a little slick from a spot of rain. He just tumbled off. I'm thinking the brace of block Bobby was hauling up knocked him, and he went over the safety bar. God!"
She stopped, pressed her hands to her face. "I saw him fall. I heard a shout and turned round, and I saw him hit the ground. He just lay there. He just lay there, Darcy, with his head bleeding."
She sniffled, rubbed her fingers over her eyes. "It wasn't such a terrible long fall, really, but he landed so hard. They stopped me from moving him. I wasn't thinking and just wanted to turn him over, but thank God, cooler heads were there in case there were spinal or neck injuries. Poor Bobby- Bobby's beside himself. I just had Shawn take him out for a walk around outside."
"It's going to be all right." She took Brenna's shoulders. "We'll make it be all right."
"I'm glad you're here. I can't tell them how scared I am. Mary Kate's prone to hysteria in any case, and Maureen's pregnant, and Alice Mae's so young. Patty can hold on, and God knows Ma can, but I can't tell them how it was to see him hit the ground, and how scared I am he won't wake up again."
"Of course he will." When Brenna broke, Darcy just gathered her in. "They'll let you see him soon, I'll wager, then you'll feel better."
Over Brenna's head she watched Trevor come down the hall. He paused, laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'
ll see to the tea. Go sit with your family."
"Thanks for that. Let's go wash your face," she said briskly to Brenna. "Then we'll have some tea and wait for the doctor."
"I'm all right." Brenna scrubbed at her face as she drew back. "Go be with Ma. I'll go wash up and be right along."
Back in the little waiting room, Darcy sat on the arm of Mollie's chair. "Tea will be right along."
"That's fine, then." Mollie reached up to pat her knee, then left her hand there for her own comfort as well. "That's a fine man, Trevor is. To break off his business and come back because my Mick's hurt."
"Of course he came back."
Mollie only shook her head. "Not everyone would. That he did says something about what kind of person he is. And just now, he sat here and he told me I wasn't to worry about anything but concentrating on helping Mick get better. He'll see to all the hospital charges and doctors. He says Mick'll get full pay even though he's off the job for a while. He expects it'll only be a bit of a while," she continued, then stopped when her voice trembled. "He expects Mick to be back to work, as both O'Tooles are required to do the job right."
"He's right, of course." Tears, this time of gratitude, filled Darcy's throat. How had he known just the right things to say to people he barely knew?
Darcy got to her feet when Trevor came to the doorway and, leading only with her heart, walked to him. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, soft and warm on the lips. "Come sit with the family," she told him, and brought him in.
Even as she resigned herself to waiting, the doctor stepped in. "Mrs. O'Toole."
"Yes. My husband?" Mollie was on her feet, her hand clenching Alice Mae's, as it was closest.
"He's a tough one." With a reassuring smile, the doctor stepped over as Brenna raced up. "Let me tell you first, he'll be fine."
"Thank God." Mollie reached out to grip Brenna's shoulder. "Thank God for that."
"He has a concussion and a broken arm. The bone-" He demonstrated, putting his own hand on his forearm. "Snapped rather than shattered, and that's fortunate. Some of the lacerations were deep, and there's considerable bruising at the ribs, but no breaks there. We've run tests and haven't found any internal damage. We want to keep him for a day or two, of course."
"Is he awake?"
"He is, yes. And considerably alert. He asked for you-and a pint, though you came first."
Her voice broke in a laughing sob. "I damn well better. Then I can see him?"
"I'll take you into recovery, then the lot of you can have a minute with him once we've got him settled in a room. He looks a bit fierce with the bruises and the cuts, and I don't want you to be alarmed by it."
"You don't raise five children without seeing plenty of bruises and cuts."
"That you don't."
"You wait here now," she said, turning to her family, "while I go see your father. And when it's your turn, I don't want any weeping and wailing, so get it all out of your system now. And we'll all of us have a good cry if need be after we're home again."
Darcy waited until Mollie walked away with the doctor before she turned to Brenna. "All right, how do we go about sneaking him in a pint of Guinness?"
CHAPTER Twelve
"Darcy, there's my girl. You've come to spring me from this place, haven't you?"
Twenty-four hours after he'd taken a hard tumble and landed for the most part on his head, Mick O'Toole looked pink and alert, bruised and battered, and just a little desperate. Darcy leaned over the bed rail and kissed his forehead fondly.
"I have not. You've one more day to go, if all's as it should be in that rock you call a brain. So I've brought you flowers."
One of his eyes was blackened, there was a gouge in his cheek held together by a trio of butterfly bandages, and the forehead she'd kissed was a symphony of raw braises and rawer scrapes.
All in all it gave him the look, Darcy thought, of a brawler who'd come out on the wrong side of fists.
When his big, hopeful smile faded immediately into a long, put-upon sigh, she wanted to cuddle him.
"There's nothing wrong with me head or the rest of me, save this busted wing here, and that's hardly enough to keep a man chained in hospital, now is it?"
"The doctors think different. But I've brought you something to cheer you up."
"The flowers are very nice indeed." But he said it with a pout, very much like a twelve-year-old who hadn't gotten his way.
"They are, yeah, and right out of Jude's own garden. The rest of it's from somewhere else altogether." Slipping the flowers out of the bag she carried, Darcy set them aside and pulled out a plastic tumbler with a sealed lid. "It's Guinness-only a half pint, as that's all I could manage, but it'll have to do you."
"You're a princess."
"I am, and expect to be treated as such." After popping off the lid, she passed the contraband to him, then lowered the rail to sit on the side of the bed. "Do you feel as well as you look?"
"I'm fit and fine, I promise. My arm pains me a bit, but nothing to speak of." He took his first sip, then closed his eyes in pure pleasure. "It was sorry I was to hear you and Trev rushed all the way back from London. It was nothing but a false step and a bit of a tumble."
"You scared us all to pieces." Affectionately, she brushed at the hair on his brow. "And now I suppose you'll have all your ladies fussing over you."
His eyes twinkled. "It's hard to mind it, as I've such pretty ladies, though they've been in and out of here since I got my senses back. I'm ready to get back on the job, but Trev won't hear of it. A week, he's telling me, minimum, before I can so much as show me face, and then only with the doctor's say-so."
Mick's tone turned wheedling. "Maybe you could have a word with him, darling, tell him how much better off I'd be working than lying about. A man's bound to listen to a beautiful woman such as yourself."
"You won't get 'round me, Mister Michael O'Toole. A week's a short enough time. Now, you rest and stop fussing about work. The theater won't be built before you're back to it."
"I don't like taking a wage while I'm flat on my back."
"It's right he's paying you, as you were hurt on his job, and he can well afford it. Doing so shows his character, just as fretting over it shows yours."
"That may be, and I'll admit it's put Mollie's mind at rest even if she doesn't say so." Still his fingers worried the edge of the sheet. "He's a good man and a fair boss, but I need to know he's got his money's worth from me."
"Since when haven't you given full shot for the pound? The sooner you're healed through, the sooner you'll be working again. And I'll tell you my plumbing needs another look."
She'd made that one up, but saw it brightened him.
"I'll take a look-see the minute they let me on my feet again. 'Course, if it's urgent you can have Brenna see to it."
"It'll wait for you, and so will I."
"That's fine, then." He settled back, and the sparkle on her wrist caught his eye. "Well, now, what's this?"
He took her hand, turned it so the bracelet shimmered. "That's quite the little bauble, isn't it?"
"It is. Trevor gave it to me." And she watched Mick's wicked smile.
"Did he now?"
"He did, and I shouldn't have taken it, but I decided not to refuse such a generous gesture."
"Why should you? He's got his eye on you, and has since you first came into view. The man has fine taste if you're asking me, and you, my girl, could hardly do better than with the likes of Trevor Magee."
"It won't do to get those sorts of notions, Mr. O'Toole. It's no more than a bit of a frolic for both of us, with neither looking for seriousness."
"Is it?" Mick questioned, then seeing Darcy set her chin, as he'd seen her set it all her life, he let it lie. "Well, sure and we'll see about that, won't we?"
And to Mick's pleasure, it was barely more than an hour after Darcy left his bedside when Trevor came to it. He brought a pint of Guinness with him, and Mick appreciated his boldness in not t
roubling to hide it, just as he'd admired the neatness with which Darcy had delivered hers under cover.
"Now, that's a man after me own heart."
"Oh, did you want one too?" With an easy smile, Trevor passed the glass and sat. "I figured you'd be feeling restless by now."
"That I am. If you'd get me some pants I'd walk out of here with you."
"Tomorrow. I've just had a word with your doctor, and he says they'll release you in the morning."
"Well, that's better than a jab in the eye with a sharp stick. I was thinking, I could be on the job straightaway, in a kind of supervisory capacity. No lifting." He hurried on as Trevor merely stared blandly. "No actual labor, just what you'd call keeping an eye on things."
"In a week."
"Bloody hell, man, I'll go mad in a week. Do you know what it is to be laid low this way and have a brood of hens clucking about you?"
"Only in my cherished fantasies."
Mick gave a short laugh and settled into his pint. "Darcy left hardly an hour ago."
"She loves you."
"That feeling's very mutual between us. I happened to notice the trinket you gave her, the wrist bauble."
"It suits her."
"It does indeed, being bright and rich and shiny. Some see the girl and think, now that's a flighty one only looking for fun and the easy way. They'd be wrong."
"I wouldn't disagree with you."
"As her father, and my good friend, Patrick Gallagher is across the pond, I'm taking it upon myself to say this to you in plain speech. Don't toy with that girl, Trevor. She's not a bauble like that pretty bracelet you picked out of a glass case somewhere. She's a big and seeking heart in her, even if she doesn't like to let it show. And for all she may tell you, and herself for that matter, that it's all fun and games, she'll bruise like any other woman with rough handling."
"I don't intend to handle her roughly." His voice was cool now, just a step away from aloof.
Not the sort of man who's accustomed to being given orders, Mick thought, or advice, or even warnings about his behavior. "Maybe the word I should use is 'careless.' And a man can be careless with a woman even without intending it, especially if the woman expects it."
