"Your mother wants to know when you'll be home."

Even half asleep, Serena grinned. Anna MacGregor had never been a mother hen, but Daniel… "We'll be in Miami Saturday afternoon. I should be home by Sunday. Are you going to have a brass band?"

"Hah!"

"One Highland chief with a bagpipe?"

"You were always the sassy one, Rena." He tried to sound stern, and ended up sounding proud. "Your mother wants to know if they're feeding you proper."

She swallowed a giggle. "We get a whole loaf of barley bread a week and salt pork on Sundays. How is Mom?"

"Fine. She's already gone to the hospital to cut somebody open."

"Alan and Caine?"

Daniel gave a snort. "Who sees them?" he demanded. "It breaks your mother's heart that her children've forgotten their parents. Not one grandchild to bounce on her knee."

"Inconsiderate of us," Serena agreed dryly.

"Now, if Alan had married that pretty Judson girl…"

"She walked like a duck," Serena reminded him bluntly. "Alan'll pick his own wife when he's ready."

"Hah!" Daniel said again. "Got his nose buried down in D.C., Caine's still sowing oats he should've been done with, and you float around on some boat."

"Ship."

"Your poor mother will never live to hold her first grandchild." With a heavy sigh he lit one of the fat cigars Anna hadn't managed to confiscate.

"Did you wake me up at six A.M. to lecture me about the procreation of the MacGregor line?"

"That's nothing to curl your lip at, little girl. The clan—"

"I'm not curling my lip," she-assured him, wanting to avoid a long, passionate diatribe. "And I plan to stay home awhile, so you can start bullying me after Sunday."

"Now, is that any way to talk?" he demanded, offended. "Why, I've never so much as raised my hand to you."

"You're the best father I've ever had," she said soothingly. "I'll buy you a case of Scotch in St. Thomas."

"Well, now." Pleased with the idea, he softened, then remembered another promised case of Scotch and his main purpose for the predawn call. "Met any interesting people on the cruise, Rena?"

"Mmm, I could write a book. I'm really going to miss the rest of the crew."

"What about passengers?" he persisted. Daniel puffed on his cigar and tried his hand at smoke rings. "Get any real gamblers?"

"Now and again." Her thoughts drifted to Justin, just as Daniel's did.

"I suppose you've had your hands full with the men." She gave a noncommittal grunt and shifted to her back. One man anyway, she mused. "'Course there's nothing wrong with a bit of romance now and then," he added in a jovial voice. "Providing the man's got good blood and some starch. A true gambler has to have a sharp brain."

"Would you feel better if I told you I was planning to run off with one?"

"Which one?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.