in love. Never in tenderness. And no matter how he searched, none had been Eden.
Now she was here, only a forbidden touch away. The same sweet Eden, unsullied beneath the worldly elegance. But in the harshness that marked his life, he was wrong for her.
Perhaps they could be friends, as she asked. But never lovers, as he wished.
“It’s late,” he declared firmly, the rush of his breath warming her cheek. “This has been a long day for both of us.”
Catching the scarf draped like a shawl about her shoulders, he drew her close. Touching his lips to her forehead, he savored the feel and fragrance of her. But knowing this was all he could have of her, all that he dared, he put her from him.
Stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, he whispered, “You’re tired. I’ve asked too much of you this day.”
“No—”
A finger brushing her lips silenced her protest. “Come,” he insisted, taking her hand. “I’ll walk you home.”
She didn’t protest again. Not even when he kissed the sensitive flesh of her wrist, thanking her most gallantly for a lovely evening and for the pleasure of her company. Nor when he left her in the shadow of the sprawling back porch of River Walk.
Eden watched until the darkness washed over him and hid him from sight. She watched and waited, but he didn’t turn, he didn’t look back. And he didn’t hear as she whispered. “Good night, Adams Cade.”
Then, in a voice husky with tears, as Cullen stepped from the shadows, she whispered, “Good night, Adams, my love.”
Two
“Mrs. Claibourne.”
Eden looked up from the basket of flowers she was gathering while they were still glittering with dew. Shading her eyes against the early-morning sun, she realized that it was Merrie rushing toward her. As the girl came closer, Eden saw her face was flushed, her eyes bright, and the lovely mass of dark curls tumbled in fey disorder down her back.
Certain something was dreadfully wrong, Eden slipped off the supple leather gloves she used for gardening. Tucking gloves and shears into a pocket, she waited for the outburst.
Standing in the rising heat of the unseasonably warm spring morning, she watched Merrie weaving though the garden and wondered what problem had thrown this most vivacious member of her staff into a dither. Visions of termites swarming over the lower porches or mice in the pantry filled her thoughts, even as she knew that termites and mice would never cause this agitation in one so new to the foibles of ancient Southern homes.
“There’s more!” Merrie stopped, barely avoiding Eden.
“Whoa!” Eden exclaimed as she steadied the girl. “Calm down and tell me what in heaven’s name has you so excited. There’s more, you say? More of what?”
“More of them,” Merrie managed between heaving gasps.
“‘Them’?” Eden lifted a questioning brow as she found the oblique answer even more puzzling. “What? Who?”
“The other presidents.”
Eden was totally baffled now. “What presidents? Where?”
“The Cades.” Merrie caught a long breath, then spoke more calmly in faultless English just acquiring a touch of the Southern lilt. “In the library. The inn is full of them. The more they come, the more dangerous they are. Except for the first.”
“Adams’ brothers,” Eden interpreted rather than asked, not really certain having the three younger, brawling Cades on the premises was less disconcerting than termites on the porch or mice in the pantry. Disconcerting or not, it would be interesting, she thought as she continued her interpretation. “And, as with Adams, dangerous meaning handsome—or better.”
“Mr. Adams’ brothers,” Merrie confirmed. “But totally different and totally handsome.”
“And these presidents are in the library?” Eden chuckled in spite of knowing she really shouldn’t encourage such unbridled exuberance in her staff. Still, she doubted Merrie’s initial reaction would last. Not even a bevy of dangerously handsome men could supersede her greatest love.
“Since that was where you asked me to take Mr. Adams when he arrived, I was sure it would serve for the rest of the family.”
“Of course it does,” Eden agreed. “You did well. But next time, try to announce them with a little more composure.”
“I’m sorry.” Merrie was instantly contrite. “It’s just that no one warned me that the men of Southern North America were so…so…” Shrugging away her loss of words, she settled simply for redundancy. “Dangerous.”
Eden wondered if she should explain that the Cades were a breed apart, and certainly not men against whom others could be measured. But, deciding some things were better learned than told, she kept silent, waiting for Merrie to complete her report.
“They asked to see Mr. Adams,” the girl continued as expected. “Since you gave strict orders that he was to have no unannounced visitors unless you screened them, I thought the library was best. Mrs. Claibourne, I hope it was all right that I asked Cullen to see if they wanted coffee and muffins.”
“That’s perfect, Merrie. What you did was exactly right.”
“Should I get Mr. Adams now? Or take the gentlemen down to the river cottage?”
“No,” Eden said thoughtfully. “I think not just yet.” Given Merrie’s description, she didn’t doubt that it was Adams’ brothers who waited in the library. She couldn’t think of a soul who would be brave enough, or foolhardy enough, to misrepresent themselves as Cades. Even so, she would see for herself and judge the mood of this visit before Adams was disturbed.
“These flowers are for the suite in the west wing,” she told Merrie with her usual calm. “The Rhetts are scheduled to arrive just after lunch. In case I’m delayed with the Cades, would you see to arranging them and getting them to the suite?” Anticipating the answer, Eden offered the dew-laden flowers.
“Of course.” Merrie took the basket. “My mother often asked me to do the flowers when she entertained.”
“I know. Do your best, Merrie. That’s all I ask.”
“I will, Mrs. Claibourne.”
“I know,” Eden said again. She’d spoken truthfully. She did know Merrie would do an excellent job. All the staff at the inn put their best effort into any task they were assigned. Eden had striven to assure their working conditions were pleasant and rewarding. In turn the staff was phenomenally efficient. So efficient that Eden was confident that even in her absence, the inn would continue as usual.
Grateful for her good fortune and anticipating a meeting with old friends, she hurried to the house. Even as the back hall door closed behind her, Eden heard their voices. Deep, masculine voices. Familiar voices she had known all her life.
The library door was ajar and her step was quiet, but not one of the stunning and
