Books by Nora Roberts

by Roberts, Nora

  Gray wiped her tears himself. "Are you going to tell me what she had?"

  "A boy." Brianna sniffled. "The most beautiful boy. He has black hair, like Rogan's. It curls around his little head like a halo. And he has Maggie's eyes. They're blue now, of course, but the shape of them's Maggie's. And he wailed so, like he was cursing the lot of us for bringing him into this mess. His little fingers all clenched into fists. Liam, they named him. Liam Matthew Sweeney. They let me hold him." She rested her head on Gray's shoulder. "He looked at me."

  "Are you going to tell me he smiled at you?"

  "No." But she smiled. "No, that he didn't. He looked at me, very serious like, as if he was after wondering what he was to make of all this business. I've never held a life so new before. It's like nothing else, nothing else in the world." She turned her face into his throat. "I wish you could have been there."

  To his amazement, he found he wished the same. "Well, somebody had to mind the ranch. Your Mrs. O'Malley came on the fly."

  "Bless her. I'll call her up tomorrow to give her the news and thank her."

  "She doesn't cook as well as you."

  "You don't think so?" She grinned to herself, delighted. "I hope you didn't say so."

  "I'm the soul of diplomacy. So." He kissed Brianna's temple. "She had a boy. What's the weight?"

  "Seven pounds, one ounce."

  "And the time-you know, when she had it?"

  "Oh, it was about half one."

  "Shit, looks like the German copped the pool."

  "Pardon?"

  "The pool. We had a baby pool going. Sex, weight, time of birth. I'm pretty sure the German guy-Krause-hit the closest."

  "A betting pool, is it? And whose idea was that?"

  Gray ran his tongue around his teeth. "Murphy's," he said. "The man'll bet on anything."

  "And what was your guess?"

  "Girl, seven and a half pounds, straight up midnight." He kissed her again. "Where's my cigar?"

  "Rogan sent you along a fine one. It's in my purse."

  "I'll take it down to the pub tomorrow. Somebody's bound to be handing out free drinks."

  "Oh, you can bet on that as well." She took a little breath, locked her fingers together. "Grayson, about this afternoon. My mother."

  "You don't have to say anything about that. I walked in at a bad moment, that's all."

  "It's not all, and it's foolish to pretend it is."

  "All right." He'd known she'd insist on hashing it out, but he couldn't bear to see her mood lowered. "We won't pretend. Let's not think about it tonight, though. We'll talk about it later, as much as you need to. Tonight's for celebrating, don't you think?"

  Relief warmed her. Her emotions had ridden on a roller coaster long enough that day. "I do, yes."

  "I bet you haven't eaten." "I haven't."

  "Why don't I get us some of the cold chicken that's left over from dinner? We'll eat in bed."

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was easy enough to avoid serious subjects over the next week. Gray buried himself in his work, and Brianna's time was stretched thin between her guests and her new nephew. Whenever she had a spare minute, she found some excuse to dart down to Maggie's cottage and fuss over the new mother and baby. Maggie was too enraptured with her son to do more than give a few token complaints about missing the opening of her new gallery.

  Gray had to admit the kid was a winner. He'd wandered down to the cottage himself a time or two when he needed to stretch his legs and clear his mind.

  Early evening was the best time, when the light took on that luminous glow so special to Ireland, and the air was so clear he could see for miles across the emerald hills with the sun striking down on the thin ribbon of river in the distance making it flash like a silver sword.

  He found Rogan, dressed in a T-shirt and old jeans, in the front garden, plucking industriously at weeds. An interesting look, Gray mused, for a man who could likely afford a platoon of gardeners.

  "Hiya, Pop." Grinning, Gray leaned on the garden gate.

  Rogan shifted back on the worn heels of his boots. "Ah, a man. Come in and join me. I've been evicted. Women." He jerked his head toward the cottage. "Maggie and Brie and Murphy's sister Kate up for a visit, and some of the village ladies. Discussing breast feeding and delivery room war stories."

  "Yeah." Gray gave the cottage a pained look as he swung through the gate. "It sounds to me more like you escaped than got kicked out."

  "True enough. Being outnumbered I can't get near Liam. And Brianna pointed out that Maggie shouldn't be doing the gardening yet, and it's getting overrun. Then she lifted her brow at me in that way of hers. So I took the hint." He looked longingly back at the cottage. "We could try sneaking into the kitchen for a beer."

  "It's safer out here." Gray sat down, folded his legs. Companionably, he reached out and pulled a weed. At least it looked like a weed. "I've been wanting to talk to you anyway. About that stock certificate."

  "Which stock certificate is that?"

  "The Triquarter Mining thing."

  "Ah, yes. That business slipped my mind with all that's been going on. Brianna heard from them, didn't she?"

  "She heard from someone." Gray scratched his chin. "I had my broker do a little digging. It's interesting."

  "Thinking of investing, are you?"

  "No, and couldn't if I were. There is no Triquarter Mining-not in Wales or anywhere else he can locate."

  Rogan's brow creased. "Folded, did they?"

  "If doesn't appear there ever was a Triquarter Mining- which should mean the certificate you're holding is worthless."

  "Odd then, that someone would be willing to pay a thousand pounds for it. Your man might have missed something. The company might be quite small, not appear on any of the standard lists."

  "I thought of that. So did he. He was curious enough to dig a little deeper, even called the number that was printed on the letterhead."

  "And?"

  "It isn't a working number. It occurs to me that anyone can have a sheet of letterhead printed up. Just as anyone can rent a post office box, like the one Brianna wrote to in Wales."

  "True enough. But it doesn't explain why someone would be willing to pay for something that doesn't exist." Rogan frowned into middle distance. "I've got some business in Dublin. Though I'm not sure Brie will forgive me for taking Maggie and Liam away, we need to leave at the end of the week. It should only take a few days, and I can look into this myself while I'm there."

  "I figure it's worth a trip to Wales." Gray shrugged as Rogan looked at him. "You're a little encumbered right now, but I'm not."

  "You're thinking of going to Wales yourself?" "I've always wanted to play detective. It's kind of a coincidence, don't you think, that shortly after Brie found the certificate and sent off a letter, the cottage was broken into." He moved his shoulders again. "I make my living tying coincidences into plots."

  "And will you tell Brianna what you're up to?" "Pieces of it anyway. I've been thinking about taking a quick trip to New York-Brianna might like a weekend in Manhattan."

  Now Rogan's brows lifted. "I imagine she would-if you could convince her to leave the cottage during high season.

  "I think I've got that worked out." "And New York is a distance from Wales." "Wouldn't be hard to detour there on the way back to Clare, though. Add a couple days onto the trip. I thought about going on my own, but if I had to talk to anyone official, I think I'd need her-or Maggie or their mother." He grinned again. "I think Brie's the obvious choice."

  "When would you leave?"

  "A couple of days."

  "You move fast," Rogan commented. "Do you think you can get Brianna to move as quickly?"

  "It'll take a lot of charm. I've been saving up."

  "Well, if you manage it, keep in touch with me. I'll do what I can to look into the matter from my end. Oh, and if you need extra ammunition, you could mention we've several of Maggie's pieces displayed in Worldwide New York."

  The s
ound of women's laughter filled the air. They came outside, still circling Maggie, who had Liam in the crook of her arm. There were introductions, greetings, a lot of last-minute cooing over the baby before the visitors hopped on bicycles and peddled off.

  "Let's have him." Gray reached out and took the baby from Maggie's arms. He always got a kick out of the way Liam stared up at him with solemn blue eyes. "Hey, aren't you talking yet? Rogan, I think it's time we got this kid away from the women, took him down to the pub for a pint."

  "He's had his pint for the evening, thank you," Maggie put in. "Mother's milk."

  Gray tickled the baby's chin. "How come he's wearing a dress? These women are making a sissy out of you, kid."

  " Tisn't a dress." Brianna leaned forward to kiss the top of Liam's head. "A sacque is what it is. He'll be wearing trousers soon enough. Rogan, you've only to heat that dish I brought down when you're ready for dinner." She scowled down at his gardening attempt. "It's no good playing with the weeds. You have to get the roots."

  He grinned, kissed her. "Yes, ma'am."

  Waving him away, she laughed. "I'm going. Gray, give the baby back. The Sweeneys have had more than enough company for the day. You'll put your feet up?" she said to Maggie.

  "I will. Make her do the same," she ordered Gray. "She's been running two households for days." Gray snatched Brianna's hand. "I could carry you back."

  "Don't be foolish. You take care." She let her hand stay in Gray's as they walked through the garden gate and onto the road. "He's grown so much already," she murmured. "And he does smile now, right at you. Do you ever wonder what goes through a baby's mind when he's looking at you?"

  "I figure he's wondering if this life is going to be much different from the last."

  Surprised, she turned her head. "Do you believe in that sort of thing? Really?"

  "Sure. One trip through never made sense to me. We'd never get it right with one try. And being in a place like this, you can feel the echo of old souls every time you take a breath."

  "Sometimes I feel I've walked along here before." Idly she reached out, trailing her hand along the red blossoms of fuchsia that lined the road. "Right here, but in a different time, in a different skin."

  "Tell me a story."

  "There's a stillness to the air, a peace. The road's only a path, very narrow but well trod. And I can smell turf fires burning. I'm tired, but it's good, because I'm going home to someone. Someone's waiting for me just up ahead. Sometimes I can almost see him standing there, lifting his hand to wave at me."

  She stopped, shook her head at her own nonsense. "It's foolish. Just imagining."

  "Doesn't have to be." He bent down, plucked a wild-flower from the side of the road, and handed it to her. "The first day I walked here, I couldn't look at it all fast enough, long enough. It wasn't just because it was new. It was like remembering." On impulse he turned, took her into his arms, and kissed her.

  So was this, he realized. Now and then, when he held her, when his mouth was on hers, there was a picture of it at the edge of his mind.

  Like remembering.

  He brushed off the feeling. It was time, he decided, to start charming her into doing what he wanted. "Rogan told me he needs to go back to Dublin for a while. Maggie and Liam will go with him."

  "Oh." There was a sharp, quick stab of regret before she found acceptance. "Well, they have a life there as well. I tend to forget when they're here."

  "You'll miss them."

  "I will, yes."

  "I need to take a little trip myself."

  "A trip?" Now there was a jolt of panic she fought to control. "Where are you going?"

  "New York. The premiere, remember?"

  "Your movie." She managed a smile. "It's exciting for you."

  "It could be. If you'd go with me."

  "Go with you?" Now she stopped dead in the road to gape at him. "To New York City?"

  "A couple of days. Three or four." He scooped her into his arms again and led her into an impromtu waltz. "We could stay at the Plaza like Eloise."

  "Eloise? Who-"

  "Never mind. I'll explain later. We'll take the Concorde, be there before you know it. We could visit Worldwide there," he added as extra incentive. "Do all the tourist things, eat in ridiculously expensive restaurants. You might get some new menus out of it."

  "But I couldn't. Really." Her head was spinning, and had nothing to do with the quick circles of the dance. "The inn-"

  "Mrs. O'Malley said she'd be glad to pinch hit." "To-"

  "To help out," he elaborated. "I want you with me, Brianna. The movie's important, but it won't be any fun without you. It's a big moment for me. I don't want it to just be an obligation."

  "But, New York-"

  "A wink away on the SST. Murphy's happy to look after Con, Mrs. O'Malley's bustling to take care of the inn."

  "You've talked to them already." She tried to stop the whirling dance, but Gray kept spinning her.

  "Sure. I knew you wouldn't go until everything was tidy."

  "I wouldn't. And I can't-"

  "Do this for me, Brianna." Ruthlessly he pulled out his best weapon. The trust. "I need you there."

  Her breath came out on a long, slow sigh. "Grayson."

  "Is that a yes?"

  "I must be mad." And she laughed. "Yes."

  Two days later Brianna found herself on the Concorde, streaking across the Atlantic. Her heart was in her throat. Had been since she'd closed her suitcase. She was going to New York. Just like that. She'd left her business in the hands of another. Capable hands, to be sure, but not her hands.

  She'd agreed to go to another country, to cross an entire ocean with a man who wasn't even kin, in a plane that was a great deal smaller than she'd imagined.

  Surely she must have gone mad.

  "Nervous?" He took her hand, brought it to his lips.

  "Gray, I should never have done this. I don't know what got into me." Of course, she knew. He had. He had gotten into her in every possible way.

  "Are you worried about your mother's reaction?"

  That had been hideous. The hard words, the accusations and predictions. But Brianna shook her head. She'd resigned herself to Maeve's feelings on Gray, and their relationship.

  "I just packed and left," she murmured.

  "Hardly." He laughed at her. "You made at least a dozen lists, cooked enough meals for a month and stuck them in the freezer, cleaned the cottage from top to bottom-" He broke off because she didn't merely look nervous. She looked terrified. "Honey, relax, there's nothing to be scared of. New York isn't nearly as bad as it's made out to be."

  It wasn't New York. Brianna turned her head, burying her face against his shoulder. It was Gray. She understood, if he didn't, that there was no one else in the world she would have done this for, but family. She understood, if he didn't, that he had become as intricate and vital a part of her life as her own flesh and blood.

  "Tell me about Eloise again."

  He kept her hand in his, soothing. "She's a little girl who lives at the Plaza with her Nanny, her dog Weenie, and her turtle Skipperdee."

  Brianna smiled, closed her eyes, and let him tell her the story.

  There was a limo waiting for them at the airport. Thanks to Rogan and Maggie, Brianna had experienced a limo before and didn't feel a complete dolt. In the plush backseat she found an elaborate bouquet of three dozen white roses and a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon.

  "Grayson." Overwhelmed, she buried her face in the blossoms.

  "All you have to do is enjoy yourself." He popped the cork on the champagne, let it fizz to the rim. "And I, your genial host, will show you all there is to see in the Big Apple."

  "Why do they call it that?"

  "I haven't got a clue." He handed her a flute of wine, tapped his against it. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

  She flushed, fumbled, and pushed a hand through her travel-touseled hair. "I'm sure I'm looking my best."

  "No, you
look best in your apron." When she laughed, he leaned closer, nibbled on her ear. "In fact, I was wondering if you'd wear it for me sometime."

  "I wear it every day."

  "Uh-uh. I mean just the apron."

  Now color flooded her cheeks and she cast a distracted glance at the back of the driver's head through the security glass. "Gray-"

  "Okay, we'll deal with my prurient fantasies later. What do you want to do first?"

  "I-" She was still stuttering over the idea of standing in her kitchen in nothing but her apron.

  "Shopping," he decided. "After we check in, and I make a couple of calls, we'll hit the streets."

  "I should buy some souveniers. And there's that toy store, that important one."

  "F.A.O. Schwartz."

  "Aye. They'd have something wonderful for Liam, wouldn't they?"

  "Absolutely. But I was thinking more about Fifth and Forty-Seventh." "What's that?" "I'll take you."

  He barely gave her time to gawk, at the palacelike structure of the hotel itself, at the opulent lobby of the Plaza with its red carpeting and dazzling chandeliers, the spiffy uniforms of the staff, the magnificently ornate floral arrangements, and the glorious little display windows filled with stunning jewels.

  They rode the elevator to the top, and she walked into the sumptuous suite so high up that it had a view of the lush green island of Central Park. He whirled her in, and by the time she'd freshened up from traveling, he was waiting impatiently to whirl her out again.

  "Let's walk. It's the best way to see New York." He took her purse, crossed the strap from her shoulder to her hip. "Carry it like this, with your hand on it. Are those shoes comfortable?" "Yes."

  "Then you're set."

  She was still trying to catch her breath when he pulled her out.

  "It's a great town in the spring," he told her as they began to walk down Fifth.

  "So many people." She watched a woman dash by, legs flashing under short, shimmering silk. And another in baggy red leather with a trio of earrings dangling from her left lobe.

  "You like people."

  She stared at a man marching along, barking orders into a cellular phone. "Yes."

  Gray shifted her out of the path of a zipping bike. "Me, too. Now and then."