She didn’t add that there had been a great deal of blood. Enough to terrify her until the medical attendant had stanched the flow.

“I’m sorry Maggie wasn’t able to tell you more when she called. If she’d waited until the doctor had finished looking me over, she’d have saved you a lot of worry.”

“I’d have worried anyway. I don’t—I can’t—” He shut his eyes and struggled to find the words. “It’s hard for me to handle the idea of you being hurt. The reality of it is even tougher.”

“It’s just bruises and bumps.”

“And a concussion, a pulled shoulder.” For both of their sakes, he yanked himself back. “Tell me, is it truth or myth about not falling asleep with a concussion because you might not wake up?”

“It’s a myth.” She smiled again. “But I’m thinking seriously of staying awake for a day or two, just in case.”

“Then you’ll want company.”

“I’ll love company. I think I’d go mad lying in this bed alone, with nothing to do and no one to see.”

“How’s this?” Careful not to jar her, he sat on the side of the bed. “The food probably sucks here. It’s hospital law in every developed country. I’ll go out, hunt us up some burgers and chips. We’ll have dinner together.”

“I’d like that.”

“And if they come in and try to give you a shot, I’ll beat them up.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did. Would you do something else for me?”

“Name it.”

“Would you call Mrs. O’Malley? I’ve haddock waiting to be grilled for dinner. I know Murphy will see to Con, but the Carstairs need to be served, and there’s more guests coming tomorrow.”

Gray lifted her hand to his lips, then rested his brow on it. “Don’t worry about it. Let me take care of you.”

It was the first time in his life he’d ever made the request.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

By the time Gray got back with dinner, Brianna’s hospital room resembled her garden. Sprays of roses and freesia, spears of lupine and lilies, blooms of cheerful daisies and carnations banked her window, filled the table beside the bed.

Gray shifted the enormous bouquet he held so that he could see over it and shook his head. “Looks like these are superfluous.”

“Oh, no, they aren’t. They’re lovely. Such a fuss really for a bump on the head.” She held the bouquet in her uninjured arm, much like she held a child, then buried her face in it. “I’m enjoying it. Maggie and Rogan brought those, and Murphy those. And the last ones there were sent up from the Carstairs. Wasn’t that sweet of them?”

“They were really worried.” He set down the large paper bag he held. “I’m to tell you they’re going to stay over another night, maybe two, depending on when you get out of here.”

“That’s fine, of course. And I’ll be out tomorrow, if I have to climb through the window.” She shot a wistful look at the bag. “Did you really bring dinner?”

“I did. Managed to sneak it past the big, eagle-eyed nurse out there.”

“Ah, Mrs. Mannion. Terrifying, isn’t she?”

“Scares me.” He pulled a chair close to the bed, then sat to dig into the bag. “Bon appêtit,” he said, handing her a burger. “Oh, here, let me take those.” He rose again to lift the bouquet from her arm. “I guess they need water, huh? Here, you eat.” He pulled out a bag of chips for her. “I’ll go find a vase.”

When he left again, she tried to shift to see what else was in the bag he’d set on the floor. But the shoulder made movement awkward. Settling back again, she nibbled on the burger and tried not to pout. The sound of footsteps returning had her pasting a smile on her face.

“Where do you want them?” Gray asked.

“Oh, on that little table over there. Yes, that’s lovely. Your dinner’ll be cold, Gray.”

He only grunted, then sitting again took his own share of the meal from the bag. “Feeling any better?”

“I don’t feel nearly bad enough to be pampered this way, but I’m glad you stayed to have dinner with me.”

“Only the beginning, honey.” He winked and with the half-eaten burger in one hand, reached into the bag.

“Oh, Gray—a nightgown. A real nightgown.” It was plain, white, and cotton and all but brought tears of gratitude to her eyes. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. This awful thing they put on you.”

“I’ll help you change after dinner. There’s more.”

“Slippers, too. Oh, a hairbrush. Thank God.”

“Actually, I can’t take credit for all this. It was Maggie’s idea.”

“Bless her. And you.”

“She said your blouse was ruined.” Bloody, he remembered she’d told him and took a moment to steady himself. “We’ll take care of that tomorrow, if they spring you. Now what else do we have here? Toothbrush, a little bottle of that cream you use all the time. Almost forgot the drinks.” He handed her a paper cup, topped with plastic with a hole for the straw. “An excellent vintage, I’m told.”

“You thought of everything.”

“Absolutely. Even the entertainment.”

“Oh, a book.”

“A romance novel. You have several on your shelf at the cottage.”

“I like them.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him the headache would make reading impossible. “You went to a lot of trouble.”

“Just a quick shopping spree. Try to eat a little more.”

Dutifully she bit into a chip. “When you get home will you thank Mrs. O’Malley for me, and tell her please, not to bother with the wash.”

“I’m not going back until you go.”

“But you can’t stay here all night.”

“Sure I can.” Gray polished off the burger, balled the wrapper, and tossed it into the waste can. “I’ve got a plan.”

“Grayson, you need to go home. Get some rest.”

“Here’s the plan,” he said, ignoring her. “After visiting hours, I’ll hide out in the bathroom until things settle down. They probably make a sweep, so I’ll wait until they come in and check on you.”