Brianna Concannon Thane cradled her daughter in her arms, studying the gorgeous blue eyes with their impossibly long lashes. The tiny fingers with their perfect tiny nails, the rosebud of a mouth that no one in heaven or on earth could tell her hadn't curved into a smile.
After less than an hour she'd already forgotten the strain and fatigue of labor. The sweat of it, and even the prickles of fear.
She had a child.
"She's real." Grayson Thane said it reverently, with a hesitant stroke of a fingertip down the baby's cheek. "She's ours." He swallowed. Kayla, he thought. His daughter Kayla. And she seemed so small, so fragile, so helpless. "Do you think she's going to like me?"
Peering over his shoulder, his sister-in-law chuckled. "Well, we do-most of the time. She favors you, Brie," Maggie decided, slipping an arm around Gray's waist for support. "Her hair will be your color. It's more russet now, but I'll wager it turns to your reddish gold before long."
Delighted with the idea, Brianna beamed. She stroked the down on her daughter's head, found it soft as water. "Do you think?"
"Maybe she's got my chin," Gray said hopefully.
"Just like a man." Maggie winked at her husband as Rogan Sweeney grinned at her across the hospital bed. "A woman goes through the pregnancy, with its queasiness and swollen ankles. She waddles about like a cow for months, then suffers through the horrors of labor-"
"Don't remind me of that." Gray didn't bother to suppress a shudder. Brianna might have put that aspect of the event behind her, but he hadn't. It would live in his dreams, he was sure, for years.
Transition, he remembered with horror. As a writer, he'd always thought of it as a simple move from scene to scene. He'd never think of the word the same way again.
Unable to resist, Maggie tucked her tongue in her cheek. Her affection for Gray made her honor bound to tease whenever the opportunity arose. "How many hours was it? Let's see. Eighteen. Eighteen hours of labor for you, Brie."
Brianna couldn't quite hide a smile as Gray began to pale. "More or less. Certainly seemed like more at the time, with everyone telling me to breathe, and poor Gray nearly hyperventilating as he demonstrated how I was to go about it."
"A man thinks nothing of whining after putting in eight hours at a desk." Maggie tossed back her mop of flame-colored hair. "And still they insist on calling us the weaker sex."
"You won't hear it from me." Rogan smiled at her. Being part of Kayla's birth had reminded him of the birth of his son, and how his wife had fought like a warrior to bring Liam into the world. Still no one thinks of what a father goes through. "How's your hand doing, Grayson?"
Brows knit, Gray flexed his fingers-the ones his wife had vised down on during a particularly rough contraction. "I don't think it's broken."
"You held back a yelp, manfully," Maggie remembered. "But your eyes crossed when she got a good grip on you."
"At least she didn't curse you," Rogan added, lifting a dark, elegant brow at his wife. "The names Margaret Mary here called me when Liam was born were inventive to be sure. And unrepeatable."
"You try passing eight pounds, Sweeney, and see what names come to mind. And all he says, when he takes a look at Liam," Maggie went on, "is how the boy has his nose."
"And so he does."
"But you're okay now?" In sudden panic Gray looked at his wife. She was still a little pale, he noted, but her eyes were clear again. That terrifying glaze of concentration was gone. "Right?"
"I'm fine." To comfort, she lifted a hand to his face. The face she loved, with its poet's mouth and gold-flecked eyes. "And I won't hold you to your promise never to touch me again. As it was given in the heat of the moment." With a laugh she nuzzled the baby. "Did you hear him, Maggie, when he shouted at the doctor? 'We've changed our minds,' he says. 'We're not having a baby after all. Get out of my way, I'm taking my wife home.'"
"Fine for you." Gray took another chance and skimmed a fingertip over the baby's head. "You didn't have to watch it all. This childbirth stuff's rough on a guy."
"And at the sticking point, we're the least appreciated," Rogan added. When Maggie snorted, Rogan held out a hand for her. "We've calls to make, Maggie." "That we do. We'll look back in on you shortly." When they were alone, Brianna beamed up at him. "We have a family, Grayson."
An hour later Grayson was anxious and suspicious when a nurse took the baby away. "I should go keep an eye on her. I don't trust the look in that nurse's eyes."
"Don't be a worrier, Da."
"Da." Grinning from ear to ear, he looked back at his wife. "Is that what she's going to call me? It's easy. She can probably just about handle it already, don't you think?"
"Oh, I'm sure." Chuckling, Brianna cupped his face in her hands as he leaned over to kiss her. "She's bright as the sun, our Kayla."
"Kayla Thane." He tried it out, grinned again. "Kayla Margaret Thane, the first female President of the United States. We've already had a woman president in Ireland," he added. "But she can choose whichever she wants. You look beautiful, Brianna."
He kissed her again, surprised all at once that it was absolutely true. Her eyes were glowing, her rose-gold hair tumbled around it. Her face was still a bit pale, but he could see that the roses in them were beginning to bloom again.
"And you must be exhausted. I should let you sleep."
"Sleep." She rolled her eyes and pulled him down for another kiss. "You must be joking. I don't think I could sleep for days, I've so much energy now. What I am is starved half to death. I'd give anything and more for an enormous bookmaker's sandwich and a pile of chips."
"You want to eat?" He blinked at her, astonished. "What a woman. Maybe after, you'd like to go out and plow a field."
"I believe I'll skip that," she said dryly. "But I haven't had a bite in more than twenty-four hours, I'll remind you. Do you think you could see if they could bring me a little something?"
"Hospital food, no way. Not for the mother of my child." What a kick that was, he realized. He'd hardly gotten used to saying "my wife"-now he was saying "my child." My daughter. "I'm going to go get you the best bookmaker's sandwich on the west coast of Ireland."
Brianna settled back with a laugh as he darted out of the room. What a year it had been, she thought. It had been hardly more than that since she'd met him, less since she'd loved him. And now they were a family.
Despite her claims to the contrary, her eyes grew heavy and she slipped easily into sleep.
When she awakened again, drifting hazily out of dreams, she saw Gray, sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her.
"She was sleeping, too," he began. And since he'd already taken her hand in his, he brought it to his lips. "They let me hold her again when I harassed them- said a few interesting things about the Yank, but were pretty indulgent all in all. She looked at me, Brie, she looked right at me. She knew who I was, and she curled her fingers-she's got gorgeous fingers-she curled them around mine and held on-"
He broke off, a look of sheer panic replacing the dazzled joy. "You're crying. Why are you crying? Something hurts. I'll get the doctor. I'll get somebody."
"No." Sniffling, she leaned forward to press her face to his shoulder. "Nothing hurts. It's only that I love you so much. Oh, you move me, Grayson. Looking at your face when you speak of her. It touches so deep."
"I didn't know it would be like this," he murmured, stroking her hair as he cuddled. "I didn't know it would be so big, so incredibly big. I'm going to be a good father."
He said it with such fervor, and such a sweet hint of fear, that she laughed. "I know."
How could he fail, he wondered, when she believed in him so completely? "I brought you a sandwich, and some stuff."
"Thanks." She sat back, sniffling again and wiping at her eyes. When the tears cleared, she blinked again, then wept again. "Oh, Grayson, what a wonderful fool you are."
He'd crammed the room with flowers, pots and vases and baskets of them, with balloons that crowded the ceiling with vivid color and c
heerful shapes. A huge purple dog stood grinning at the foot of the bed.
"The dog's for Kayla," he told her, pulling out tissues from a box and stuffing them into her hand. "So don't get any ideas. Your sandwich is probably cold, and I ate some of the chips. But there's a piece of chocolate cake in it for you if you don't give me a hard time about it."
She brushed the fresh tears away. "I want the cake first."
"You got it."
"What's this, feasting already?" Maggie strolled in, a bouquet of daffodils in her arms. Her husband came in behind her, his face hidden behind a stuffed bear.
"Hello, Mum." Rogan Sweeney bent over the bed to kiss his sister-in-law, then winked at Gray. "Da."
"She was hungry," Gray said with a grin.
"And I'm too greedy to share my cake." Brianna forked up a mouthful of chocolate.
"We've just come from having another peek." Maggie plopped down on a chair. "And I can say, without prejudice, that she's the prettiest babe in the nursery. She has your hair, Brie, all rosy gold, and Gray's pretty mouth."
"Murphy sends his love and best wishes," Rogan put in, setting the bear beside the dog. "We called him just a bit ago to pass the news. He and Liam are celebrating with the tea cakes you finished making before you went into labor."
"It's sweet of him to mind Liam while you're here."
Maggie waved off Brianna's gratitude. "Sweet had nothing to do with it. Murphy'd keep the boy from dawn to dusk if I'd let him. They're having a grand time, and before you ask, things are fine at the inn. Mrs. O'Malley's seeing to your guests. Though why you'd accept bookings when you knew you'd be having a baby, I can't say."
"The same reason you kept working with your glass until we carted you off to have Liam, I imagine," Brianna said dryly. "It's how I make my living. Have Mother and Lottie gone home then?"
"A short time ago." For Brianna's sake, Maggie kept her smile in place. Their mother had been complaining, and worrying about what germs she might pick up in the hospital. That was nothing new. "They looked in and saw you were sleeping, so Lottie said she'd drive Mother back and they'd see you and Kayla tomorrow."
Maggie paused, glanced at Rogan. His imperceptible nod left the decision to share the rest of the news up to her. Because she understood her sister, and Brianna's needs, Maggie rose, sat on the side of the bed opposite Gray, and took Brianna's hand.
"It's as well she's gone. No, don't give me that look, I mean no harm in it. There's news to tell you that it isn't time for her to hear. Rogan's man, his detective, thinks he's found Amanda. Now wait, don't get too hopeful. We've been through this before."
"But this time it could be real."
Brianna closed her eyes a moment. More than a year before she'd found three letters written to her father by Amanda Dougherty. Love letters that had shocked and dismayed. And finding in them that there had been a child had begun a long and frustrating search for the woman her father had loved, and the child he'd never known.
"It could be." Not wanting to see his wife disappointed yet again, Gray spoke carefully. "Brie, you know how many dead ends we've run into since the birth certificate was found."
"We know we have a sister," Brianna said stubbornly. "We know her name, we know that Amanda married, and that they moved from place to place. It's the moving that's been the trouble. But sooner or later we'll find them." She gave Maggie's hand a squeeze. "It could be this time."
"Perhaps." Maggie had yet to resign herself to the possibility. Nor was she entirely sure she wanted to find the woman who was her half sister. "He's on his way to a place called Columbus, Ohio. One way or the other, we'll know something soon."
"Da would have wanted us to do this," Brianna said quietly. "He would have been happy to know we tried, at least, to find them."
With a nod, Maggie rose. "Well, we've started the ball on its roll, so we won't try to stop it." She only hoped no one was damaged by the tumble. "In the meantime, you should be celebrating your new family, not worrying over one that may or may not be found."
"You'll tell me, as soon as you know something," Brianna insisted.
"One way or the other, so don't fidget about it in the meantime." A glance around the room had Maggie smiling again. "Would you like if we took some of these flowers home for you, Brie, set them around so they'd be there when you bring the baby home?"
With some effort Brianna held back the rest of the questions circling in her head. There were no answers for them yet. "I'd be grateful. Gray got carried away."
"Anything else you'd like, Brianna?" With cheerful good humor, Rogan accepted the flowers his wife piled in his arms. "More cake?"
She glanced down, flushed. "I ate every crumb, didn't I? Thanks just the same, but I think that'll do. Go home, both of you, and get some sleep."
"So we will. I'll call," Maggie promised. The worry came back into her eyes as she left the room with Rogan. "I wish she wasn't so hopeful, and so sure that this long-lost sister of ours will want to be welcomed into her open arms."
"It's the way she's made, Maggie."
"Saint Brianna," Maggie said with a sigh. "I couldn't bear it if she was hurt because of this, Rogan. You've only to look at her to see how she's building it up in her head, in her heart. No matter how wrong it might be of me, I wish to God she'd never found those letters."
"Don't fret over it." Since Maggie was busy doing just that, Rogan used his elbow to press the elevator button.
"It's not my fretting that's the problem," Maggie muttered. "She shouldn't be worrying over this now. She has the baby to think of, and Gray may be going off in a few months on his book tour."
"I thought he'd canceled that." Rogan shifted tilting blooms back to safety.