“Aunt Libby’s here,” someone said.
The people who’d crowded around them again moved out of the way, and a slender woman in her sixties leaned over Grace’s shoulder to touch Camry’s forehead.
She stood silently for several seconds, then lifted her eyes to Luke and smiled. “You got her here just in time. Robbie,” she said, motioning him over, “carry her up to her room for me, would you?”
“No, I’ve got her,” Luke said, leaning forward to stand up.
“Let Robbie take her,” Greylen ordered. “Ye look like you can barely walk.”
“I’ve got her,” Luke growled, levering himself off the couch to his feet. He fell into step behind Grace, who led the way through the sea of people to the stairs.
“Ye drop her, Renoir, and ye better hope you break your own neck in the fall,” Greylen said, walking beside him.
“Oh, quit posturing, Grey,” Grace said with a laugh, turning to loop her arm through her husband’s and pulling him up beside her. “She’s not your daughter anymore, she’s Luke’s wife.”
“It wasn’t a legal marriage,” Grey muttered.
“No? Then would you care to lay odds that when we check at the courthouse tomorrow morning, we won’t find their license duly registered?” she asked.
“Pendaär is supposed to marry our girls.”
Grace laughed again. “I’m sure Daar will defer to Roger de Keage.”
If Luke hadn’t been seconds away from falling to his knees, he was sure he’d have found their conversation intriguing. But he was so exhausted, he just wanted to see Camry open her eyes and smile at him so he could fall into a coma for a week. They reached the balcony, and he followed Grace and Greylen down the hall as Libby MacBain walked beside him. She reached out and quietly took hold of his elbow, and in less than three steps his exhaustion vanished and he suddenly felt like he could run a marathon.
He stopped and looked down at her.
“You have amazing endurance, Luke,” she said, smiling up at him. “And a powerfully strong and rather loud heart.”
“Yeah,” he said, feeling a bit drunk from the sudden surge of energy coursing through him. “And every so often, I can actually hear it.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“Can you ever forgive me?” Cam whispered against her father’s chest, snuggled up in his arms on her bed.
Her mother, lying with her arms around both of them, squeezed her tightly. “We forgave you one second after Luke told us.”
Her father’s arms also tightened, and his lips brushed her hair. “Actually, we forgave you before we even knew, daughter, because we love you.” He ducked his head to see her face. “You are supposed to come to us when you’re having a crisis.”
Cam sighed, closing her eyes with a smile, and snuggled deeper into his embrace to prepare for the coming lecture.
“But even though you should have,” her mother rushed to say, apparently hoping to waylay her husband’s scolding, “it soon became obvious to your father and me that Luke would be able to help you better than we could.”
“It did?” her papa muttered.
“Yes,” Grace said. “That’s why instead of going to Go Back Cove to get you himself, your father thought it would be better to send Luke.”
“I did?” He sighed, smoothing down Cam’s hair. “I am such a wise man.”
“So, oh wise father,” Cam said with a giggle, “did you know you were sending my future husband to fetch me, or were you just hoping that by waving him in front of my nose, I would fall madly in love because he’s big and strong and handsome and smart . . . just like you?”
His arms around her tightened. “Your falling in love with him was your mother’s idea. Whereas I was perfectly content for you to remain a spinster your whole life.”
Cam snorted, then turned her head to look at her mom. “I . . . we couldn’t find Podly’s data bank. I’m afraid it might be gone for good.”
Grace patted her arm and sat up. “Maybe. But you and Luke don’t really need it, do you?” she asked, getting off the bed and turning back with a smile. “With your combined brainpower, I’m sure you’ll duplicate my work in no time, once you lock yourselves in my lab.”
Cam also tried to sit up, but she seemed to be stuck in her father’s embrace. She patted his chest and grinned up at him. “I’m not going far,” she whispered.
When he reluctantly opened his arms, she jumped off the bed, then turned back to him. “Except that I do have to take a quick trip to British Columbia, to meet Luke’s parents and sister. But we’ll be back right after Christmas.”
“I’m afraid that if you’re going to British Columbia, you’re going to miss them,” Grace said. “Because they’re here.”
“They’re here? But how did you know to invite them?”
Grace walked to the bathroom door and waved her over. “Come on, you need a bath. The party starts in less than an hour. And to answer your question, it seems Luke’s mom got a card in the mail, inviting them all to Gù Brath for Christmas.” Her eyes shone with amusement. “When his mother called to question me about the invitation, she mentioned the card had a beautiful angel on the front, and was signed by a flourished F.”
“Oh my God,” Cam said, covering her mouth with her hands. “She sent Luke’s family a card, too?”
“Would ye happen to know who F is?” her father asked, getting off the bed.
Cam looked from one parent to the other. “Um . . . it’s Fiona.”
Grey arched a brow. “Our Fiona?”
Cam sighed. “It’s a long story, Papa. I’ll tell you about my rather interesting last couple of weeks tomorrow, okay? I’m just dying to sink into a tub of hot water.” She looked at her mother. “Where’s Luke’s family now?”
Grace started filling the tub, pouring a liberal amount of lilac-scented bath beads into the cascading water. “I imagine Kate pounced on Luke the moment he stepped out of his own shower. That girl is positively enchanting.” She pulled Camry into her arms and kissed her on the forehead. “Welcome home, daughter of mine. I’ve never missed you so much as I did when I realized you really were missing.”
“But now I’m found,” Cam whispered back, hugging her tightly. “Fiona and Luke and Roger AuClair helped me find myself.” She leaned away. “And . . . and you, Mama. You were always right there in my heart, guiding me every step of the way.”
Cam turned when her father walked into the bathroom, and threw herself at him. “And you, too, Papa,” she cried. “I could almost hear you lecturing me, letting me know how much you love me.”
He squeezed her so tight she squeaked. “Sorry. I’m afraid you’ll get no more lectures from me. That’s your husband’s duty now.”
Cam looked up. “But Luke’s not very good at it, Papa. He actually tried once, and my ears didn’t even come close to falling off. In fact, I fell asleep.”
He hugged her to him with a laugh, then kissed the top of her head. “I will see what I can do to remedy that. Welcome home, my precious highlander.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Luke sat in the huge dining room of Gù Brath, more than a little overwhelmed and utterly awed by the sheer magnitude of the festivities. The boisterous younger children—whom Luke had heard more than one person refer to as little heathens—had temporarily been relegated to the playroom downstairs, apparently to give the adults a few minutes of peace. But there still had to be forty people—sitting and standing around the table, which was thirty feet long if it was a foot, and crammed in among the balloons and streamers—and every damn one of them was wearing a birthday hat.
Except him.
And Tigger.
At Camry’s somewhat threatening insistence, Luke was wearing AuClair’s hat, and Tigger was wearing her own miniature version.
Kate’s snickering wasn’t at all helping his mood, nor were her repeated requests that he look at her; each time he complied she would then take his picture on her cell phone.
Luke fi
gured several of them were already posted on the Internet.
While they waited for Winter, who seemed to be late for her own birthday party, Luke tried to concentrate on putting each sister’s face to her name. He wasn’t having much luck, though, considering he’d been introduced to all of them almost at once. As for their husbands and children . . . well, the only one he could place was Jack Stone.
But then, one usually does remember one’s rescuer.
“Luke, let Max get up on your lap,” Camry said, leaning close to be heard over the sounds of lively conversation. “His feelings are hurt because I’m holding Tigger.”
Well, why the hell not? He already looked ridiculous in his hat, why not try to hold an overly excited fifty-pound dog on his lap, too?
He turned his chair slightly, bumped into someone and apologized, then patted his chest. “Come on, Max. You sit quietly, and I’ll share my piece of cake with you after they blow out the candles.” Max jumped up, then immediately tried to crawl onto the table, apparently more interested in the gift sitting next to Camry’s cake than he was in the cake. “No, boy. Sit,” Luke commanded.
Max sat still for exactly six seconds, then made another lunge for the gift.
In his scramble to catch him, Luke’s chair again bumped into the person behind him, and with a muttered curse, both Luke and Max fell to the floor—the gift clamped in Max’s mouth.
Camry looked down, obviously trying not to laugh. “Are you having a bad day, Luke?” she asked, a snicker escaping.
“You don’t know the half of it, since you slept through most of it,” he said, standing up. He then tried to wrestle the gift out of Max’s mouth, painfully aware that there was sudden silence, and that every eye in the room was on him. “Come on,” he hissed under his breath, “give it up, Max.”
The dog opened his jaws without any warning, releasing his treasure. Luke was so surprised that he bumped into his chair—which finally sent the long-suffering person behind him scrambling away—then fumbled to catch the gift that went soaring through the air toward the table.
It landed directly on top of Camry’s birthday cake with a splat, sending tiny missiles of icing over anyone unlucky enough to be sitting nearby. Leaving the gift in the cake and Max on the floor, Luke straightened his pointy hat and sat down.
The gift suddenly gave a long, air-piercing, cake-shuddering beep.
Camry gasped so loud it had to have hurt.
Luke merely closed his eyes with a groan. Oh yeah, miracles notwithstanding, he was having a very bad day.
“Did you hear that?” Camry said, nudging him hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Half of Pine Creek heard it,” he muttered, opening his eyes just in time to catch Tigger when she shoved the dog at him and stood up.
“Mama!” she shouted down the table—though he didn’t know why, since the room was filled with absolute silence. “What’s in my gift?”
Grace shrugged. “I have no idea.” She gestured toward all the other gifts sitting beside each of her daughters’ individual birthday cakes. “Your gift was delivered this afternoon by special messenger. There was a card, addressed to me, that said I could tuck my gift to you away for next year, because you would probably prefer this one instead.”
“But who is it from?”
Grace shrugged again. “The card didn’t say.”
“And ye just brought it into the house without knowing what was inside?” Grey asked, standing up—as did Jack Stone, Robbie MacBain, and several other men, including Luke. Greylen walked down and snatched the gift out of the cake. “My God, woman, ye should know better than that.”
“It’s okay, Grey,” Grace said, also standing up. “Because I have a pretty good idea what it is. The card also said that twenty years was a long time for a woman to wait for her dream to come true, but that he guessed patience was a motherhood thing.” She gestured toward the gift. “And after what Camry told us earlier, I now also have a good idea who it’s from. That’s why I went and got it from the shed just five minutes ago, and set it on the table.”
Camry gasped so hard again that she bumped into Luke—just before she snatched the gift out of her father’s hand. “It’s the data bank!” she cried, ripping open the dark green paper that was covered with what Luke just now realized were long strings of equations written in gold ink.
She tossed the paper on the table, popped open the box, and pulled out a black metal box the size of a six-pack of soda. She held it up for Luke to see, then turned and held it up to her mother. “It’s Podly’s data bank, isn’t it, Mama?”
Grace collapsed down in her chair, her face as pale as a ghost, huge tears sliding down her cheeks as her smile outshone the three blazing chandeliers over the table. “Y-yes,” she whispered.
Camry ran up to her, set the data bank in Grace’s hands, and hugged her mother fiercely. “We have it, Mama. We have your key to ion propulsion.”
“N-no,” Grace said shakily, handing it back to her. “You have your key.” She touched Camry’s cheek. “You unlocked the secret to ion propulsion when you were twelve, one day when you were in the lab working on a school project. You came up and looked over my shoulder and suggested I transpose two integers in the equation I was working on. So that makes it your discovery, baby, not mine.”
Camry reared back in surprise. “But why didn’t you shout it to the world? Mom! We could be traveling to Mars by now!”
Grace looked at Luke, then at her husband, then down at the data bank in her daughter’s hand. “I didn’t want what came with shouting it to the world,” she whispered. She looked up at Camry, her face flushing red. “I know it looks as if I’ve been unselfish to let you be the one to present our discovery, but it’s actually the opposite. I didn’t tell anyone because it would have meant leaving Gù Brath for days or maybe weeks at a time, to oversee its implementation.” She looked over at Greylen, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “So I very selfishly kept silent, refusing to let the world intrude on my true dream, which was spending every day at home with a husband and family I love more than anything else in the universe.”
She swiped the tears running down her cheeks with the backs of her hands, then cupped Camry’s face. “But you, daughter . . . you have a husband who not only will travel with you, but who will also keep you grounded—as mine did,” she finished strongly, looking at Greylen again, her smile tender.
Greylen strode back up the length of the table, edged Camry out of the way, and pulled Grace into his arms, lifting her off her feet to bury his face in her neck.
Camry walked to Luke, her own eyes spilling tears. He handed Tigger to whoever was standing next to him, and pulled her into his arms.
The front door suddenly slammed, shaking the chandeliers. “I’m here!” a woman shouted. “You better not have started without me! Fiona threw up all over my birthday dress just as we were leaving, and I had to go back in and change,” she continued, rushing into the dining room. “I swear she did it on purp—” She came to a sliding stop. “What did I miss?”
Apparently no one thought to answer her.
“What’s wrong? Mama, are you crying?” she asked, rushing around the table toward her parents. She suddenly skidded to a halt beside Luke. She looked at Camry still in his embrace, then up at him. “Who are you?” she asked.
“If you’re Winter, then I guess I’m your newest brother-in-law, Luke Renoir.”
“My what!” She shifted the infant in her arms to free up one hand, which she used to pull Camry around to face her. “My what?” she repeated. “You’re married?” She touched Camry’s wet cheek, then swung toward the head of the table. “Why is everyone crying? What did I miss!”
The infant she was holding suddenly gave a loud wail and burst into tears.
“Oh, give her to me,” Camry said, shoving the data bank at Luke so she could take the baby. “Go see Mom and Dad. They’ll tell you what’s going on.”
As Winter bolted for the head of the table, Camry
nudged Luke with her hip. “Come on, let’s go into the living room where it’s quiet. I have someone very special I want you to meet.”
Luke followed her through the crowd of whispering people, smiling sinisterly at Kate as she held up her cell phone and snapped his picture again on his way by, then stopped to gently close his mother’s gaping mouth. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then stayed leaning close. “You think this is amazing,” he whispered, “you wait until you meet some of her distant relatives.”
With a nod to André, he followed Camry out to the foyer, where he found her smiling up at a tall, handsome, rather . . . intense-looking man.
No worry he would mix up this brother-in-law with the others.
“This is Winter’s husband, Matt Gregor. Matt, this is my husband, Luke Renoir.”
Matt extended his hand. “Welcome to the family, Luke.” His piercing golden eyes, glinting with amusement, darted to Camry as she walked away with his now-sniffling daughter, then returned to Luke—specifically to his hat—before leveling directly on him. “How is good old Roger?” he asked.
“As outrageous as I assume he always is.”
Matt’s grin broadened. “Yes, but he means well. So what did he con you and Cam out of?”
“Greylen’s best snowcat.”
Matt arched a brow. “Really? In exchange for what?”
“Marrying us.” Luke glanced toward the living room, then back at Matt. “And your enchanting daughter signed as our witness, along with your grandson, Thomas Gregor Smythe.”
Matt also glanced toward the living room, then heaved a heavy sigh. “That girl is going to be the death of me,” he muttered. He looked back at Luke, shaking his head. “You and Cam decide to have children, pray they’re boys.” He gestured toward the once-again-boisterous dining room. “I swear I don’t know how Greylen survived raising seven daughters.” With a shudder, apparently to shrug off his fatherly terror, Matt slapped Luke on the shoulder and nudged him toward the living room. “You better go save your wife from Fiona, before the little imp gives Cam the idea that she needs a baby of her own.
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