Born in Ice

by Nora Roberts

  anymore."

  She laughed as he'd hoped. Shaking her head, she kissed him under the ear. "I was so angry at the thought of it all more than at you. I know you acted out of caring. And Maggie, too." Secure with her head on his shoulder, Brianna closed her eyes. "But my mother, Murphy, what did she act out of?" "I can't say, Brie."

  "You wouldn't say," she murmured and eased back to study his face. Such a handsome one, she thought, with all that goodness inside. It wasn't right for her to ask him to condemn or defend her mother. And she wanted to see him smile again. "Tell me, did Rory hurt you very much?" Murphy made a sound of derision, purely male, Brianna thought. "Soft hands is what he had, and not a bit of style.

  Wouldn't have laid the first one on me if I'd been expecting it."

  She tucked her tongue in her cheek. "No, I'm sure of it. And did you bloody his nose for me, Murphy darling?"

  "That and more. His nose was broke when I'd finished with him, and he'd lost a tooth or two."

  "That's a hero for you." She kissed his lightly on both cheeks. "I'm sorry she used you that way."

  He shrugged that off. "I'm glad I was the one who plowed a fist in his face, and that's the truth. Never liked the bastard."

  "No," Brianna said softly. "You nor Maggie, either. It seems you both saw something I didn't, or I was seeing something that was never there."

  "Don't worry at it now, Brie. It was years ago." He started to pat her and remembered the grease on his hands. "Get back now, you'll make yourself filthy. What are you doing out here in your bare feet?"

  "Making up with you." She smiled, then looked toward the road at the sound of a car. When she spotted Maggie, Brianna folded her hands, lifted a brow. "Warned her, did you?" she muttered to Murphy.

  "Well, I thought it best." And he thought it best now to step neatly back out of the line of fire.

  "So." Maggie walked around the nodding columbine, her eyes on Brianna's face. "I thought you might want to talk to me."

  "I do, yes. Did you think I had no right to know, Maggie?"

  "It wasn't rights I was worried about. 'Twas you."

  "I loved him." The long breath she took was part relief that the emotion was fully past tense. "I loved him longer than I would had I known the whole of it."

  "Maybe that's true, and I'm sorry for it. I couldn't bear to tell you." To all three of their discomfort, Maggie's eyes filled. "I just couldn't. You were so hurt already, so sad and lost." Pressing her lips together, she struggled with the tears. "I didn't know what was best."

  "It was both of our decision." Murphy ranged himself with Maggie. "There was no bringing him back for you, Brie."

  "Do you think I would have wanted him back?" A shimmer of heat, and more of pride seeped through as she tossed back her hair. "Do you think so little of me? He believed what she told him. No, I'd not have had him back." She let out a quick huff of breath, drew in another more slowly. "And, I'm thinking, had it been me in your position, Margaret Mary, I might have done the same. I'd have loved you enough to have done the same."

  She rubbed her hands together, then held one out. "Come inside, I'm going to make some tea. Have you had breakfast, Murphy?" "Nothing to speak of."

  "I'll call you when it's ready then." With Maggie's hand in hers, she turned and saw Gray standing in the doorway. There was no way to stop the color that flooded her cheeks, a combination of pleasure and embarrassment, that sent her pulse scrambling. But her voice was steady enough, her nod of greeting easy. "Good morning to you, Grayson. I was about to start breakfast."

  So, she wanted to play it cool and casual, Gray noted, and returned the nod. "Looks like I'll have company eating it. Morning, Maggie."

  Maggie sized him up as she walked with Brianna to the house. "And to you, Gray. You look... rested."

  "The Irish air agrees with me." He moved aside to let them through the door. "I'll see what Murphy's up to."

  He strolled down the walk and stopped by the open hood of the car. "So, what's the verdict?"

  Murphy leaned on the car and watched him. "You could say it's still out."

  Understanding that neither of them were discussing engines, Gray tucked his thumbs in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Still looking out for her? Can't blame you for that, but I'm not Rory."

  "Never thought you were." Murphy scratched his chin, considered. "She's a sturdy piece of work, our Brie, you know. But even sturdy women can be damaged if handled carelessly."

  "I don't intend to be careless." He lifted a brow. "Thinking of beating me up, Murphy?"

  "Not yet." And he smiled. "I like you, Grayson. I hope I won't be called upon to break any of your bones."

  "That goes for both of us." Satisfied, Gray glanced toward the engine. "Are we going to give this thing a decent burial?"

  Murphy's sigh was long and heartfelt. "If only we could."

  In harmony they ducked under the hood together.

  In the kitchen Maggie waited until coffee was scenting the air and Con was chomping happily at his breakfast. Brianna had dressed hastily and, with her apron in place, was busy slicing bacon.

  "I've gotten a late start," Brianna began, "so there's no time for fresh muffins or buns. But I've plenty of bread."

  Maggie sat at the table, knowing her sister preferred that she stay out of the way. "Are you all right, Brianna?"

  "Why wouldn't I be? Will you be wanting sausage, too?"

  "Doesn't matter. Brie..." Maggie dragged a hand through her hair. "He was your first, wasn't he?" When Brianna set her slicing knife aside and said nothing, Maggie pushed away from the table. "Did you think I wouldn't know, just seeing you together? The way he looks at you." She rubbed her hands absently over her weighted belly as she paced. "The way you look."

  "Have I a sign around my neck that says fallen woman?" Brianna said coolly.

  "Damn it, you know that's not my meaning." Exasperated, Maggie stopped to face her. "Anyone with wit could see what was between you." And their mother had wit, Maggie thought grimly. Maeve would be back in a matter of days. "I'm not trying to interfere, or to give advice if advice isn't welcome. I just want to know... I need to know that you're all right."

  Brianna smiled then and let her stiff shoulders relax. "I'm fine, Maggie. He was very good to me. Very kind and gentle. He's a kind and gentle man."

  Maggie touched a hand to Brianna's cheek, brushed at her hair. "You're in love with him."

  "Yes." "And he?"

  "He's used to being on his own, to coming and going as he pleases, without ties."

  Maggie tilted her head. "And you're after changing that?"

  With a little hum in her throat, Brianna turned back to her cooking. "You don't think I can?"

  "I think he's a fool if he doesn't love you. But changing a man's like walking through molasses. A lot of effort for little progress."

  "Well, it's not so much changing him as letting him see what choices there are. I can make a home for him, Maggie, if he'll let me." Then she shook her head. "Oh, it's too soon to be thinking so far. He's made me happy. That's enough for now."

  Maggie hoped that was true. "What will you do about Mother?"

  "As far as Gray's concerned, I won't let her spoil it." Brianna's eyes frosted as she turned to add cubed potatoes to the pan. "As to the other, I haven't decided. But I will handle it myself, Maggie. You understand me?"

  "I do." Giving in to eight months of pregnancy, she sat again. "We heard from the New York detective yesterday."

  "You did? Did he find her?"

  "It's a more complicated business than we might have thought. He found a brother-a retired policeman who still lives in New York."

  "Well, that's a start then, isn't it?" Eager for more, Brianna began to whip up batter for griddle cakes.

  "More of a stop, I'm afraid. The man refused to admit he even had a sister at first. When the detective pressed- he had copies of Amanda's birth certificate and such-this Dennis Dougherty said he hadn't seen nor heard from Amanda in m
ore than twenty-five years. That she was no sister to him and so forth as she'd gotten herself in trouble and run off. He didn't know where, or care to know."

  "That's sad for him, isn't it?" Brianna murmured. "And her parents? Amanda's parents?"

  "Dead, both of them. The mother only last year. There's a sister as well, married and living out in the West of the States. He's talked to her as well, Rogan's man, and though she seems softer of heart, she hasn't been any real help."

  "But she must know," Brianna protested. "Surely she'd know how to find her own sister."

  "That doesn't seem to be true. It appears there was a family ruckus when Amanda announced she was pregnant, and she wouldn't name the father." Maggie paused, pressed her lips together. "I don't know if she was protecting Da, or herself, or the child if it comes to it. But according to the sister, there were bitter words on all sides. They were lace-curtain Irish and saw a pregnant unwed daughter as a smear on the family name. They wanted her to go away, have the child, and give it up. It seems she refused and simply went away altogether. If she contacted her parents again, the brother isn't saying, and the sister isn't aware of it."

  "So we have nothing."

  "Next to it. He did find out-the detective-that she'd visited Ireland all those years ago with a woman friend. He's working now on tracking her down."

  "Then we'll be patient." She brought a pot of tea to the table and frowned at her sister. "You look pale."

  "I'm just tired. Sleeping's not as easy as it once was."

  "When do you see the doctor again?"

  "This very afternoon." Maggie drummed up a smile as she poured herself a cup.

  "Then I'll take you. You shouldn't be driving."

  Maggie sighed. "You sound like Rogan. He's coming all the way back from the gallery to take me himself."

  "Good. And you're staying right here with me until he comes to get you." More concerned than pleased when she got no argument, Brianna went to call the men to breakfast.

  She spent the day happily enough, fussing over Maggie, welcoming an American couple who had stayed at her inn two years earlier. Gray had gone off with Murphy to look for car parts. The sky stayed clear, the air warm. Once she had seen Maggie safely off with Rogan, Brianna settled down for an hour of gardening in her herb bed.

  Freshly washed linens were billowing on the line, music was trilling out through the open windows, her guests were enjoying tea cakes in her parlor, and her dog was snoozing in a patch of sunlight beside her. She couldn't have been happier.

  The dog's ears pricked, and her own head came up when she heard the sound of cars. "That's Murphy's truck," she said to Con, and indeed, the dog was already up, tail wagging. "The other I don't recognize. Do you think we have another guest?"

  Pleased with the prospect, Brianna rose, dusted the garden dirt from her apron and started around the house. Con raced ahead of her, already barking happily in greeting.

  She spotted Gray and Murphy, both of them wearing silly grins as the dog welcomed them as if it had been days rather than hours since they'd parted. Her gaze skimmed over the neat, late-model blue sedan parked in front of Murphy's truck.

  "I thought I heard two cars." She looked around anxiously. "Did they go inside already?" "Who?" Gray wanted to know.

  "The people who were driving this. Is there luggage? I should brew some tea fresh."

  "I was driving it," Gray told her. "And I wouldn't mind some tea."

  "You're a brave one, boy-o," Murphy said under his breath. "I don't have time for tea meself," he went on, preparing to desert. "My cows'll be looking for me by now." He rolled his eyes at Gray, shook his head, and climbed back into his truck."

  "Now, what was that?" Brianna wondered as Murphy's truck backed into the road. "What have the pair of you been up to, and why would you be driving this car when you've already got one?"

  "Someone had to drive it, and Murphy doesn't like anyone else behind the wheel of his truck. What do you think of it?" In the way of men Gray ran a hand along the front fender of the car as lovingly as he would over a smooth, creamy shoulder.

  "It's very nice, I'm sure."

  "Runs like a top. Want to see the engine?"

  "I don't think so." She frowned at him. "Are you tired of your other one?"

  "My other what?"

  "Car." She laughed and shook back her hair. "What are you about, Grayson?"