As he turned the conversation to Joey’s care and recovery, Luke closed his eyes briefly in silent thanks. For the moment he was safe. Collier was well and truly persuaded that all was as it should be. By the time he broke the influence—as he inevitably must, being the man he was—it would be too late to make any difference at all.
Chapter Sixteen
They said their good-byes where the villagers had first greeted them, at the outskirts of the village where children ran in energetic circles about them in the slushy snow. Joey leaned on Luke’s arm, returning the smiles of Luke’s people and feeling almost sorry to be going. She’d almost gotten used to having most of the conversations go over her head, used to the lyrical sound of a foreign tongue filling the air like the chattering of exotic birds. She resolved to ask Luke to speak French more often, just because she liked the sound of it.
The young men flanked them, on either side of the makeshift litter they’d assembled for her. Allan had made clear that, while she was fit enough to be moved, a hike up and over the ridge and back to Luke’s cabin would tax her healing body too greatly, Luke had found plenty of volunteers willing to help him carry her when the going got rough. Joey felt faintly embarrassed at her own helplessness, but the grins and winks of the young men, and their cheerfully incomprehensible comments, made it impossible to feel ill at ease.
The farewells were effusive and noisy, accompanied by hugs and slaps and punches, though the ones directed at Joey were restrained in respect for her injured ribs. But there could be no doubt, now, how thoroughly she had been accepted by them, and the knowledge warmed her beyond all reason. Gone were the cold, staring, suspicious eyes, the pack had taken her in.
It made it doubly hard to leave, except for Luke. There was one thing she wanted more than to stay, and that was to get Luke alone.
Claire darted out from a tumbling mass of children and hurled herself at them both, scooting aside at the last moment to avoid jarring Joey and colliding full force with Luke’s legs “Es-tu oblige de t’en aller, Luc? Pourquoi Joelle et toi vous restez pas?” Joey heard her name, said with such familiarity that she felt a stab of unexpected emotion. Even Claire accepted her. As Luke murmured a reply and ruffled the girl’s midnight hair, wide eyes turned to regard Joey. The little girl chattered its rapid-fire French.
Joey felt heat in her face as she picked out a few pertinent words Bebe—she’d definitely heard the word “baby.” Involuntarily she glanced at Luke, whose expression seemed to smile, but there was no real warmth in it, and it never reached his eyes. Did that grim coldness mean he didn’t want children’? Did she? They were questions she didn’t want to consider, not now. Too difficult to dwell on the future, on events that had no meaning in the present. Now was all that mattered.
The certainty and rightness of that conclusion made her long to pick the little girl up and swing her about, but Claire had already vanished again, her breathy goodbye lost in the general clamor. Joey contented herself by slipping her arm around Luke’s waist and breathing in the smell of him. She could not remember any time in her life when she’d been quite this happy—but it took too much effort to think of the past. The past was gone, and memories were of little use to her now.
One by one the others made their farewells: Philippe, whose grave face cracked into a smile for her, Jean-Paul, who flushed deep red as he stood on his toes to offer her a kiss on each cheek, others she had met and had only begun to know, until the last of them came forward—Bertrande of the ever-present smirk and knowing eyes.
She spoke to Luke, who nodded gravely and replied in monosyllables to her raspy monologue. Joey could feel the tightness of his muscles, she consigned it to that same tension he always seemed to display around his grandmother—something, undoubtedly, to do with the village pack pecking order. That was something else she had only begun to understand, but there would be a time for that another day. She ran her hand up and down Luke’s back to soothe him, but the tautness remained as Bertrande turned her sharp blue gaze on Joey.