Irish Meadows by Susan Anne Mason Page A

from her lip and nose. He cradled her head in his lap and smoothed the waves of hair away from her eyes.
    â€œBree. Can you hear me? Wake up, please.”
    He ran swift hands over her arms and legs, as he would when checking a horse for injuries, relieved to find no broken bones. Still, she needed immediate medical attention.
    As gently as possible, he lifted her limp form in his arms and somehow managed to mount Starlight with Bree in front of him. He cradled her against his chest, one arm wrapped tightly around her, the other guiding the horse. He’d send one of the hands out for Major as soon as he got back.
    Halfway to the house, she began to stir, a low moan oozing from her throat.
    â€œShhh. I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair. “Stay still until we get home.”
    Her whimpers of pain caused answering spasms of helplessness to wash over him. “Hang on, honey. We’re almost there.”
    Sam ran to assist him the moment Gil reached the stable. “What happened?”
    â€œMajor spooked and threw her.” Gil handed Bree down to Sam while he dismounted.
    â€œWhat the deuce was she doing riding him?”
    â€œI have no idea.” Gil reached to take Brianna from him. “Put Starlight away for me. And have one of the hands go out to get Major. He’s tied to a tree in the west pasture.”
    â€œRight away. Let me know how she is.”
    Gil nodded and set off at a brisk pace across the lawn toward the house. His arms strained with her dead weight as he pushed into the foyer. He headed straight for the parlor and laid her gently on the sofa.
    Almost immediately, Mrs. Johnston appeared in the doorway. The housekeeper let out a gasp, her hand covering her mouth. “What happened to Miss Brianna?”
    â€œA horse threw her. Put a call in to the doctor, then get a cloth and some ice.”
    â€œYes, sir.” The woman practically flew out the door.
    Gil knew he should find Kathleen, but he didn’t dare leave Bree alone for a minute—certain if he did, something terrible would happen. As long as he stayed with her, she’d be all right.
    â€œBree, can you hear me? Open your eyes.” He caressed her unmarred cheek with rough fingers, noting the velvet smoothness of her skin. The few freckles she so detested stood out in stark relief against the pallor of her complexion. Not even an eyelash flickered.
    What if she’d suffered a brain injury?
    Dear God, please let her wake up and talk to me.
    In that instant, he would have promised God anything to guarantee Brianna’s well-being. Gil lowered his forehead to hers, tears burning behind his lids. He blinked hard to keep them at bay.
    He stayed like that, breathing soft prayers in her ear for what seemed like an eternity, until at last her lashes fluttered, and her eyes blinked opened. She stared blankly at him for a few seconds, and then recognition slowly dawned in her eyes.
    â€œGil.”
    He heaved a huge breath of relief. That one word was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.
    Thank You, Lord Jesus .
    â€œTake it easy, honey. Just lie still.”
    â€œHead . . . hurts.” She raised a hand to her forehead.
    Gil grabbed it and held it captive. “The doctor’s on his way.”
    Mrs. Johnston appeared with a bowl of water, ice, and a wet cloth. Gil wrapped some ice in the cloth and laid it on her forehead, glad to note the slight easing of pinched lines around her mouth.
    Mrs. Johnston hovered by the sofa. “Dr. Shepherd will be here soon, Mr. Whelan. And Mrs. O’Leary is on her way down.”
    â€œThank you, Mrs. Johnston.”
    Bree’s frame tensed, and she grasped his arm with steely fingers.
    â€œWhat is it? Are you in pain?” he asked her.
    â€œDon’t . . . tell . . . Daddy.” Each word took great effort to get out.
    â€œYour father’s not home. Don’t worry about him right now.”
    The