She leaned away. “So you didn’t believe anything that happened yesterday? When you said your vows to me, you were only . . . what . . . humoring me?” She looked down at the card in her hand. “So if you believe this has all been a charade, then you also believe that we’re not really married.”

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. “As far as I’m concerned, we became husband and wife last night. And just as soon as we get back to civilization, we’re going to make it legal.”

“But the magic is real, Luke.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, then smiled. “Yes, it is, because I just spent a very magical night with a very magical woman.” He gave her another kiss, this time on her mouth, then stood up. “So, Mrs. Renoir, we better get going. I’d like to at least make it down to the lake before this storm gets too intense. We can wait it out at your sister’s camp lot for the night, then start out fresh in the morning.”

She looked back at the card in her hand. “But there’s more.”

“Don’t bother reading it,” Luke muttered, sitting down beside the sled and putting on the snowshoes. “I’m not interested in what else Roger AuClair has to say.”

Chapter Eighteen

Cam sat in the sled, rubbing her cheek against Tigger, and stared at Luke’s back as he trudged through the deepening snow. She’d insisted on walking, but by the time they’d made it back to their tent site and sorted through what gear they wanted to take, she’d realized not having snowshoes of her own only slowed down their progress as the storm intensified.

She sucked in a shuddering sob, her chest hurting so much she could almost feel her heart breaking in two. Not only did Luke not believe in the magic, he had felt it was necessary to pretend that he did. He’d stood there as serious as a groom on his wedding day and let Roger marry them, even though he thought it was all a charade.

Or maybe farce was a better word.

But why? If Luke loved her like he claimed, and thought she loved him equally as much, then why couldn’t he have been honest with her?

Cam buried her face in Tigger’s fur, wishing for her mama. She dearly needed her mother to explain to her why she’d fallen in love with a closed-minded, patronizing . . . know-it-all. She didn’t care if Lucian Pascal Renoir was handsome and sexy and smart, or even strong and brave and loyal; if he couldn’t wrap his mind around the magic, then he couldn’t uncompromisingly, unpretentiously, and unconditionally love her.

The sled suddenly stopped, and Luke walked back to open the side of the tarp. When she wouldn’t look at him, he slid his finger under her chin and lifted her face.

He sucked in his breath. “Are you crying?” he asked, wiping his thumb over her cheek. “Goddammit, you should have told me you were cold!” He reached down and started unlacing her boots. “Is it your feet? If they hurt, that’s a good sign you haven’t gotten frostbite yet. I’ll find us a sheltered place to build a fire.”

She covered his hands to stop him. “I’m not cold.”

“Then why are you crying?” She saw him suddenly stiffen. “Camry, you’ve got to come back to reality. What I believe about magic doesn’t matter, as long as you believe that I love you.”

“I-I told you yesterday that loving me means accepting who I am.”

“I do! You’re Camry MacKeage—no, dammit, Camry Renoir—the physicist who’s been driving me nuts for over a year.” He cupped her face in his palms, his thumbs gently brushing her cheeks. “The woman I fell in love with within days of meeting in person.” His grip tightened. “How can I make you understand that nothing else matters but our love for each other?”

She covered his hands with her own. “By believing, Luke,” she whispered. “By honestly believing that miracles aren’t something that happen only in books and movies, and that there’s really more going on than our science can explain.”

He visibly recoiled, sitting back on his heels. “So are you saying you can only love a man who thinks the way you do? And that I must not really love you because I can’t understand how your five-month-old niece can also be sixteen, or how an old hermit can be your long-lost ancestor as well as a drùidh?” He hesitated. “Is that what you’re saying, Camry?”

Unable to face him, she looked down at Tigger. “I don’t know what I’m saying,” she whispered. She suddenly looked back at him. “Would you believe my mother? If Dr. Grace Sutter explained the magic to you, would you believe her?”

He stood up and walked to the front of the sled. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said, the wind carrying his words away. He settled the rope over his shoulders, then glanced back. “You make sure you tell me if you get cold.”

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Luke called Max to his side and started off, and the sled lurched forward. Cam buried her face in Tigger’s neck, the image of Luke’s wounded expression burning her eyes like hot sand.

It was well after dark when they reached Megan and Jack Stone’s camp lot, and Luke was more than a little surprised that they actually found it, considering they had to battle both darkness and blizzard conditions. But with the last of his reserves fading from towing Camry, Tigger, and eventually Max, as well as their minimal gear, he’d given in to Camry’s plea that he let her put on the snowshoes and tow him for the last few miles. He’d finally conceded when he’d realized they were mostly downhill miles, and that they’d both be better served if he conserved his strength for tomorrow’s trek.

With an efficiency of effort and a few lumber scraps they found around the lot, they used the storm fly of the tent to construct a makeshift shelter, then crawled into the sleeping bag—with the dogs—to share their body heat. Luke sandwiched Camry between himself and Max and Tigger, then fell asleep almost before he’d even closed his eyes.

But when he woke up the next morning, he was alone. He bolted upright, shouting Camry’s name as he scrambled to the entrance.

“I’m right here,” she called back from the shoreline. She held her arms wide. “Look, Luke. Isn’t it beautiful?”

He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking off the last vestige of terror, and took a calming breath as he stood up. He blinked in the sharp sunlight breaking over the east end of the frozen lake as he looked around, surprised by how utterly calm the air felt. It was a winter wonderland as far as he could see, everything blanketed in glittering, pristine snow.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” he called to her, even as he thought about how difficult that beauty was going to make today’s hike. But Roger’s time constraint notwithstanding, their sitting still was not an option. Luke slipped into his boots and walked to her. “How much ice do you think is on the lake?” he asked, eyeing the snow-covered expanse.

“Anywhere from six inches to a foot. But some places could be only an inch.” She shook her head. “And with the snow covering everything, there’s no way of telling what’s safe and what isn’t.”

Luke bent down, scooped up some snow and rubbed it over his face, giving a shiver as the last cobwebs of sleep fell away. “Then I guess we stick to the tote road. How long have you been up?”

“Half an hour. I started a small fire and melted some snow to make soup.” She gestured toward the campfire burning a few yards away. “Max and Tigger and I have already eaten. The rest is yours.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, going over and lifting the pot off the coals.