As they moved farther into the center of the river, the sailboat picked up speed and listed to one side. Annabelle clenched the portfolio, for it contained rare specimens of vanilla orchids that had been collected by explorers all over the world.
“You’re not going to tip us over, are you?”
Luke laughed. “You’re not doing a very good Cleopatra imitation. If I’m making you nervous, you need to order me to sheet out and slow down. Then look me in the eye and call me a peasant in a withering voice.”
If there was a peasant in this boat, it was her. But it didn’t take her long to relax, because Luke immediately slowed the boat and seemed perfectly capable as he guided it down the river. The city was soon behind them, and within an hour, the river took them into a rural, marshy landscape where the air still carried a faint salty tang.
“What are those grasses growing along the bank?” she asked.
“Cordgrass,” Luke replied. “Depending on the season, the water can get a little salty, and cordgrass can stand up to it.”
How different from Kansas it was here. Great blue herons glided above the river, and long-legged birds poked through the marsh. Luke expertly handled the rigging as he steered the boat up a narrow tributary to take them inland. He kept her entertained with stories about how planters had been using these waterways for generations.
“My father had a whole fleet of ships for exporting cotton and tobacco,” he said. “That all ended when the government seized our ships during the war.”
She trailed her fingertips along the surface of the water, enjoying its coolness as she listened. She had been under theimpression that Gray Delacroix sailed his own cargo all over the world.
“But you have ships again?” she asked.
“Just one, but it’s huge,” Luke said. “ThePelicanis a merchant steamship that brings in spices from Africa and the Far East, and we have a packing factory in Alexandria where we bottle them up and sell them. Gray uses the greenhouses for researching the plants he finds overseas, seeing if he can someday turn a profit from them. Look over there—that’s Windover Landing.”
A cluster of buildings nestled alongside the river. Luke explained that the plantation house had been completely destroyed during the war, but his father eventually built the modest farmhouse where the groundskeeper lived. There was a barn, storage sheds, and a farmhouse with a welcoming front porch, but her eye instinctively traveled to the four greenhouses huddled against a tree line in the distance.
“Welcome to Windover Landing,” Luke said as he turned the sailboat toward a dock. His arms pumped as he tugged on ropes and sails. It felt odd not to help, but she was completely out of her element and would probably capsize them if she tried.
Ten minutes later, they had disembarked and were headed toward the farmhouse. A side door opened, and Gray Delacroix came striding down the path toward them. How different he seemed from the last time she saw him in the throes of a fever. Today he looked vibrant and healthy in plain black trousers and an open-throated white shirt. His confident stride made him seem eager to see her, and it was flattering.
“The journey was uneventful?” he asked politely.
“I took care of her as though she were the queen of the Nile,” Luke said. “She was a complete failure at the haughty-command stuff, but she likes ugly marsh grass as much as you.”
A hint of humor lit Gray’s dark eyes. “You like ugly marsh grass?”
“If a plant is useful, I am intrigued,” she admitted.
“Me too.” His eyes warmed, and his smile made the cleft of his chin look strong and appealing. A breeze ruffled his hair, and she fought the temptation to smooth it back from his face, but she loved the way he smiled down at her.
Gray broke the gaze first, gesturing to Luke. “Let me help carry those things.” Luke passed the box to Gray, and he grunted at its weight. “What have you got in here? Boulders?” he asked as he hefted the ungainly box.
“Close,” she admitted. “It’s a microtome.”
The warmth vanished from his face, and he set the box on the ground with athump. “And what do you intend to do with that?”
The misgiving in his voice was apparent, for there was only one use for a microtome. The heavy brass machine cut paper-thin samples from plant material for study under a microscope. It was an essential tool for any botanist hoping to understand the cellular structure of a plant.
“It’s a very useful tool for the study of plant biology,” she stated needlessly.
“I invited you here tolookat my plants. Not dissect them.”
Before she could reply, Luke flashed a smile. “Brace yourself, Miss Larkin. Here comes the battering ram of my brother’s unstoppable charm. Can’t she at least have a few minutes before we break out the fire and brimstone?”
Gray ignored his brother and looked her directly in the eye. “I want it understood that I’m not giving anything to the Smithsonian. Not plants, not bulbs, not even cuttings. Are we clear?”
It was easy to take a cutting from a plant without hurting it, but he seemed unusually possessive of his plants. Nevertheless, it was his greenhouse and his rules.
“I shall take nothing unless you personally authorize it,” she said.
His face gentled. “Good. Luke can take your overnight baginside while I show you the first of the greenhouses. Unless you would like a break first? I can arrange for lunch or something to drink if you’d like.”
