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“Not that I know of,” replied the lovely, rather reserved Ashley. “And certainly not me. I haven’t had a date in months, so that puts me at the back of the line.”

“What about Cord? Is he seeing anyone since that model sued him?”

Ashley sent her tactless cousin a subtle, shushing glance. “I think my brother is laying low after that paternity suit. He’s coming to the wedding alone.”

“I just pray he stays out of trouble for a while,” Mrs. Kendrick murmured. Her second son garnered more publicity in some years than the entire family combined. “We’ve had enough sensationalism for this year.”

“What about you, Gabe?” the nosy Sydney ventured, undaunted. “Do you have a lady friend you’re hiding from us?”

“Are you kidding?” The bride gave a little laugh. “The way the press has been digging around to find out if and when he’s going to announce, they’d have come up with anything he was hiding by now. There’s no woman. Trust me.”

From the corner of her eye, Addie saw a good-natured smile deepen the lines bracketing Gabe’s mouth. “I think I hear a horse calling,” he muttered. “I’m out of here.”

“Coward,” Ashley whispered.

“Smart,” he countered, backing away.

He caught Addie’s glance as he did, his gray eyes laughing. But he’d no sooner given her a discreet wink to indicate he would see her later, than a look of recognition swept his sister’s flawlessly made up face.

“I know someone here who’s getting married,” Ashley announced. “Our groundskeeper,” she said, stopping Gabe dead in his tracks. “I just heard it from our cook yesterday.” Genuinely pleased, she shifted her attention toward the gazebo. She craned her neck, laying her hand delicately over her pearls. “Addie,” she called. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

Every one of the beautifully dressed women smiled at where she knelt in her serviceable denim and grass-stained boots.

With his back to everyone but her, the smile in Gabe’s eyes died completely.

“My congratulations, too,” Mrs. Kendrick added, sounding as sincere as she looked. “Your mother told me you haven’t set a date yet, and I know we’ll speak later, but I want you to know now that we’re going to miss you here.”

Addie wasn’t accustomed to being the center of attention. More familiar with being nearly invisible in a group like this, she’d been caught completely off guard at being included in it. Even for a few moments. That had to be the reason she felt as if her cheeks were flaming.

The only thing she could think to say was “Thank you,” before the women all turned their focus back to each other. She couldn’t think of anything to do, either, except jerk her self-conscious glance from Gabe’s when she realized it had caught on his once more.

Her cheeks were actually cool to her touch when she brushed the back of her hand over one and bent her head to her task once more. Yet, as she heard the women talking now about weddings past as they moved to where the ceremony itself would take place, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Gabe had been caught off guard, too.

She just had no idea what to make of the way his brow had pinched as he walked away and headed for the stables.

Chapter Two

G abe was panting hard when he grabbed the tail of his faded-gray Yale T-shirt, wiped the sweat from his face and planted his hands on his knees to catch his breath. The early-morning sun beat on the back of his head. The still-cool air fed his lungs.

He’d just shaved fifteen seconds off his fastest mile, and that after running his usual five.

There wasn’t a muscle in his body not screaming in protest.

He glanced at the timer on his watch again, took a deeper, slower drag of air.

He’d just beaten his personal best, but the satisfaction he should have felt simply wasn’t there. That disappointed him, too, considering that a quarter of a minute was the largest chunk he’d ever managed to cut off before. But he hadn’t set out to indulge his competitive streak. He’d practically run himself into the ground trying to escape the restiveness that had nagged him ever since he’d walked away from Addie yesterday.

He rose slowly, wiping his face again, and started walking up the oak-lined drive from the isolated country road. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d felt when his sister had broken Addie’s news. He’d wanted to think it was only surprise, that he had simply been caught off guard because she’d given no hint of being involved with anyone.

The explanation was logical, which he always was. And rational, which he tried to be, too. Considering that he had known her since she was born, he tended to think of her simply as he saw her, and not as someone with a life beyond the boundaries of his family’s estate. It stood to reason that having her move outside that neat little box would jar him a little.

It bothered him that he would be so narrow in his view of someone, but the logic placated him. A little, anyway. It didn’t do a thing, however, to explain his edginess. Something under that unfamiliar discontent felt a little like disbelief. Or, slight. Or, maybe, it was…disappointment.

The thoughts tightened the muscles in his jaw as he glanced toward the main house with its three stories of windows and tall, curved portico. He would have thought she would confide something so important. She talked to him about everything that mattered to her. Or so he’d thought.

The party rental truck had arrived with tables, chairs and table settings for five hundred guests. The florist was there, too. Workers darted back and forth from the boxy white vehicles pushing dollies laden with cartons or bearing bouquets and sprays of white roses and gardenias. A crew placed garlands of flowers wrapped in ribbon around the front fountain. Another ant-like procession of personnel, all bearing centerpieces, headed around back to the white tent that had been set up for dining.

Gabe knew Addie wouldn’t be in the middle of all the activity. Her preparatory work was done, and it would be her nature to stay out of everyone’s way. Finding her on more than a hundred acres of hedges, wind breaks, and wooded land surrounding a private lake might have been nearly impossible, too, had it not been for the sound of the riding lawn mower. Following the muffled roar, he found one of the uniformed gardeners making a final pass over the three acres of lawn down by the tennis courts and asked him where he could find his boss.

Three minutes later Gabe found her behind a boxwood hedge near the garage. Dressed in her familiar denim, she was on her knees at the sprinkler controls.

The tall wall of foliage hid both her and the six-car garage from view of the activity taking place on the opposite side of the main house.

“It wouldn’t do to have the sprinklers go off and soak all the guests,” she said, sensing his presence before he could say a word. “Weddings are supposed to be memorable, but I don’t think that’s the sort of memory your mother would appreciate.”

Rising, she turned from her task, her glance moving from the V of sweat darkening the neck of his shirt to his loose gray running shorts. For the first time in memory, her smile lacked the easy welcome he had grown so accustomed to seeing.

“How was your ride yesterday?” she asked, sounding more at ease than she looked. “I hear you took out the new stallion. He’s magnificent, isn’t he?”

The latest addition to his father’s show stable was indeed an incredible animal. Addie could probably discuss its pedigree and prizes equally as well as she could the ancestry and awards of his mother’s Victorian roses. If something was alive, she was interested in it. But all he wanted to discuss was the little matter she’d failed to mention on her own.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re engaged?”

The question didn’t seem to surprise her. It was the accusation behind it that seemed to throw her a little.

It threw him, too.

Confusion entered her dark eyes. “Because it isn’t the sort of thing we usually discuss.”

“We talk about a lot of things, Addie. When I mentioned that Olivia said you had news, you only told me about your project. Something like this seems a little more important. Don’t you think?”

“They’re both important to me.” She still couldn’t identify what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday. But the intensity of it had left her with a knot in her stomach the size of an amaryllis bulb. “But you brought up the research,” she reminded him, feeling that knot tighten. “There wasn’t time to talk about anything else, anyway.”

“You could have mentioned the other first.”

“I suppose I could have,” she conceded, though it wasn’t something she’d felt at all compelled to bring up with him. “I was just more interested in talking to you about the project. We’ve never talked about my personal life.”

Over the years, she and Gabe had talked about everything from pets to his political ambitions. Other than for immediate family, they’d rarely talked about their personal relationships. She had always known who he was dating, though. All she had to do was pick up the society page or listen to gossip among the staff to know who he was seeing, or if he was too busy to be seeing anyone at all. She didn’t believe for a moment that he was interested in her as anything other than a friend and sounding board, but if he’d wanted to find out anything about her, the stable master or the chauffeur were as good a source as Olivia and Ina, the downstairs maid. Gossip was practically a sport among certain members of the staff.

He must have understood her logic. The accusation slowly faded from his silver-gray eyes. The disappointment, however, remained.

“So we haven’t discussed your personal life before,” he admitted, sounding as if he hadn’t even realized she had one. “Maybe we should now. Who’s the lucky guy?”

She tipped her head, studying the lingering discontent carved in his handsome features. She had no reason not to discuss her fiancé with him. She imagined the men would even like each other, given that they shared the same strong sense of fairness, stubbornness and a consuming drive to succeed. It just felt a little awkward to talk about the man she was to marry with Gabe looking at her as if she were doing something wrong.

“Scott Baker.” Her right hand closed over the pretty-but-modest diamond on her left one. She’d told Scott that she didn’t need an engagement ring, that a wedding band would do just fine. But Scott was like Gabe in his sense of tradition, too. “He’s a coach at Camelot High.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Six months. I met him at a basketball game.”

Gabe’s dark eyebrows merged. “I didn’t know you were into basketball.”

“I’m not. Wasn’t,” she corrected. “I went to a game with Ina and Eddy.” Eddy was the stable master. Aside from being one of the maids, Ina was also his wife. “Their son is on the team.”

“Has he been at the school long?”

“Shane?” she asked, thinking of Ina’s son.

“Scott,” Gabe muttered, planting his hands on his hips. “Do people around here know him? Do you know him? How can you even be sure you love the guy? Six months is hardly any time at all.”

The insistence in his deep voice was mirrored in his stance. He looked very big, very male and with all that muscle tense and bunched, he would have intimidated the daylights out of most men and any woman who didn’t recognize the look in his narrowed eyes.

He had the same intent look he got whenever he contemplated a responsibility that threatened to get out of control.

He took his responsibilities quite seriously. All of them.

She just hadn’t realized he still thought of her as one.

She could practically feel the tension radiating from his big, rather incredible body. Yet, her own anxiety suddenly began to ease.

“He’s taught there for five years. And, yes,” she replied, thinking of his last question. “I think I do love him.

“You know, Gabe,” she continued, smiling now that she understood what was going on, “you sound just like I’d imagine my father would. I know you told him you’d look out for me, but that was years ago. I was barely nineteen. I’m twenty-five now.” Affection entered her tone. “I appreciate your concern. I really do,” she said, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. Except for her father, she’d never known anyone whose concern meant more to her. “But it really isn’t necessary.”

He didn’t appear convinced.

“Scott is a nice man,” she assured him. Gabe wouldn’t relinquish an obligation easily. But it was long past time he let go of this one. “My friends like him, my mother is thrilled and, just between you and me, I really don’t need another dad. Just be my friend and wish me well. Okay?”

For a moment Gabe said nothing. He simply studied the delicate lines of her face while the sense of calm he’d always felt around her slipped into oblivion. He hadn’t even been thinking of the private promise he had made her father before he’d died, but the vow to make sure she stayed safe allowed him a handy, if not perfectly logical excuse for his behavior.

Latching on to it, he tried to ignore the strange void in his gut.

“I’m not trying to be your dad. But it sounds like you could use an older brother,” he muttered, not sure that role fit, either. “Just for the record, what do you mean by you think you love him?”

The challenge killed her smile. “I mean just that. I doubt it’s something any one of us can know for certain…”

“I would sure hope we could.”

“What I mean,” she continued, quietly overlooking his interruption, “is that none of us can know something like that for sure until we’ve been in the relationship for a few years. I don’t think real love is there at first. There are feelings that can lead to it, but the real thing has to grow. It’s kind of like a seed,” she explained, sounding like her father now. “Some plants flourish. Others struggle. Only with time and care can you tell.”

Gabe opened his mouth, and promptly shut it again. He wanted to know why she would marry someone without being as certain as she possibly could about how she felt. He wanted to know what she would do if a few years passed and she discovered that what she’d felt hadn’t been love at all. When he married, he wanted the certainty. He needed to know he was entering the relationship with everything going in its favor. What he absolutely did not want was a relationship that started out with only seeds of something that might grow into something lasting. He wanted those seeds rooted, stemmed and blooming.

That was precisely why he hadn’t felt any urgency over the advice he’d been given to find a wife. He knew that the woman he married had to be someone people could admire, and look up to. Someone the public could love. But before the public met her, he had to do all that first.

The direction of his thoughts had him backing off. So did the fact that he was about to ask Addie if she truly knew what she was doing. The wary way she watched him made it clear she no longer thought he was rowing with both oars.

His cousin’s kids saved him from asking, anyway. He heard his name hollered from a distance. It was echoed a second later. The wall of leaves muffled the small, male voices, but there was no mistaking the boys’ determination to find him as their shouting came closer.

“Gabe? Are you down here?”

“Gabe? Where are you?”

“Be right there!” he called back.

“Mom said to play soccer with us, and Trevor won’t let me be goalie.”

“I want to be goalie! And Kenny hid the ball!”

“Did not!” came a third voice. “Tyler did.”

Looking far more frustrated than he sounded, Gabe shoved his fingers through his windblown hair. “Give me a minute! Okay?”

“You’d probably better go now.” Addie stared at the beautifully muscled underside of his arm. Realizing what she was doing, aware that the view somehow changed the quality of the knot in her stomach, she jerked her glance to look past his broad shoulders. “It sounds as if you’ll be playing referee.”

The man was a state senator. He influenced the social and economic welfare of more than seven million people. He had offices in Camelot and Richmond and staff in both places. Yet, here, today, he would baby-sit.

The thought would have made Addie smile had it not been for the tension she could still feel radiating toward her. It seemed to tug at the knot, tightening it.

“I’d better go, too,” she said, stepping back, motioning behind her. “I have a section of sprinklers that’ll go off in a few minutes if I don’t change the timer.”

The boys called out again, their voices only yards away. Gabe stepped back himself—only to stop and glance to where she’d returned to the long row of gauges and digital displays.

“Where will you be tonight?”

“Helping my mom in the main house,” she replied, not sure why he’d want to know, too anxious for him to leave to ask. Had she considered it before yesterday, she would have honestly thought he’d be happy for her. An engagement was special. But all she sensed in him was an inexplicable sort of displeasure.

His only response was the lift of his chin before two dark-haired future heartbreakers barreled around the end of the tall hedge. He swooped the smaller one onto his back with the ease of a man completely comfortable with children and their exuberance. A boy of about seven received a hair ruffling that had him giggling before he took off, backward, chattering to the man who could easily have passed for their dad.

Addie turned to her task once more, trying to remember which valves she’d shut off, which she hadn’t. She too rarely encountered members of the extended Kendrick family to know whom the younger ones belonged to. She wasn’t like certain members of the staff who followed every word written about every Kendrick, either. The only one she’d ever been interested in enough to read about was Gabe. And she couldn’t begin to imagine why he would care where she would be later—unless he was still concerned about having some duty to her dad.

Maybe you need an older brother, he’d said.

She’d never had a brother, but she supposed that, in many ways, she already thought of him as one.

She hadn’t always, though, she thought, opening the timer box to finish what she’d started to do ten minutes ago. When she was nine years old, and he fifteen, she’d thought of him as the smartest boy in the world. Then she’d turned ten and she had thought of him more as her knight in shining armor.

Timer buttons clicked as she turned off section after section. She could still remember the day he’d made that transition in her mind, how wet and miserable the weather had turned. And how frightened she’d been of the older kids who’d tried to take her lunch money from her at the bus stop. She could remember Gabe, too. How big and brave and commanding he’d seemed even then.

He had been enrolled in Briarwood at the time, an exclusive prep school miles in the opposite direction of the public school she’d attended. He hadn’t let the fact that he’d gone so far out of his way, or that he would be seriously late, stop him from helping her, though. He’d seen what was going on, rescued her with the cool, steel-eyed glare that still had lesser males backing away and driven her to school himself. He’d pulled right up in front of Thomas Jefferson Elementary in the shiny new Jag his parents had given him for his sixteenth birthday and let her out as if he were her own private chauffeur.

She’d been in serious puppy love with him at ten, and had a wild crush on him as a teenager. As a young woman, she’d been in awe of him and all he was accomplishing, and terribly grateful for his support when her father had died.

It had been Gabe who had helped her through the deep sadness she’d felt at the loss of her dad, because Gabe had loved and respected him, too. And it had been Gabe who had prevented even more upheaval when it had appeared that she and her mom would have to move from the groundskeeper’s cottage.

The cottage had been her parents’ home ever since they’d lost their farm in Kentucky some twenty years before and gone to work for the Kendricks. The tidy little house just inside the woods was a benefit provided to the groundskeeper as part of his salary. It was their home when Addie had been born. But since her father no longer held that position, she and her mom weren’t entitled to stay there.

Mrs. Kendrick had been terribly kind. She had waited nearly two weeks after the funeral before she’d asked Addie’s mom to move up to the servants’ quarters in the main house so she could hire another man. Mrs. Kendrick had assumed that at nineteen, Addie would be on her own, that she would either go back to school or get a job in town.

Everything had happened so quickly that Addie hadn’t had time to consider her own plans. Her only concern had been for her mom. The thought of leaving the cottage and the memories her mom had shared there with her dad had all but devastated the grieving woman.

Addie had never known her mom to be anything less than stoic. She’d also had no idea what to do to help her until Gabe had suggested that she take over her father’s job herself.

She would never have thought of approaching Mrs. Kendrick on her own. Aside from being totally intimidated by the famous woman and not at all accustomed to speaking up for herself, she hadn’t felt qualified to take over such a responsible position. But Gabe had insisted there was no one better qualified, and reminded her of how she had helped her father with his chores from the time she’d been old enough to dig in the dirt. There wasn’t a tree, flower or stretch of lawn on the property that she couldn’t propagate, name or mow. Because her father’s ailing heart had slowed him down so much, she had already dropped out of college to help him so he wouldn’t work so hard. Or lose his job. In his final weeks she’d been handling his job alone as it was.

A young woman definitely hadn’t been Mrs. Kendrick’s idea of a proper groundskeeper. But she hadn’t wanted to take Rose from her home, either, so she had given Addie a six-month trial.

That had been five years ago. As grateful as Addie had been to the woman then, she’d been even more grateful to her son.

The problem was that now she wasn’t sure what she felt toward Gabe beyond something too complicated to question.

Being her practical, pragmatic self, she didn’t question it. She simply accepted that she had always cared for him, always would and headed off to make sure the florists didn’t damage her topiaries with their ribbons and tiny white lights before she had to join her mother in the main house. All the rooms would need straightening while the houseguests were at the wedding.

Addie didn’t usually pull housekeeping duty. On the few occasions she had, she’d truly hated it, which meant she definitely wasn’t looking forward to it now. Knowing she would be in the main house that evening only added to the disquiet she couldn’t quite seem to shake.

That odd unease accompanied her on her way to the house a little after six o’clock that evening. The ceremony had begun, and with everyone’s attention on the couple exchanging vows by the reflecting pond, no one noticed her slip from the opening in the trees a city block away and hurry across the cobblestone drive between the main house and the garage.

The side door, or the servants’ entrance as it was known by the family, led to a utility room and on into the kitchen.

Addie didn’t mind being in those particular rooms. The kitchen was Olivia’s domain, and Addie had found the open space with its miles of glass-fronted cabinets, hanging pots and herbs growing on the windowsills to be as warm and inviting as the woman herself. She’d just never been comfortable in the mansion’s more vast and elegant spaces. Mostly, she suspected, because she knew she didn’t belong there.

As a child, she could use only the servants’ door when she needed her mother. And never was she allowed beyond the doors of the kitchen and servants’ areas themselves. She had been a teenager before she’d set foot in the main foyer, and then only because she’d helped her dad bring in and hang the fresh greens they’d made into holiday wreaths and garlands for the staircases and mantels.

As she headed inside now, she carried a bunch of brilliant red and gold asters she’d cut for the servants’ dining table. She didn’t come to the main house often, but when she did she always brought flowers for Olivia and the maids to enjoy.

The scent of something buttery and delicious drew her through the utility room with its deep sink and cabinets for boots, servants’ coats and cleaning supplies. Grabbing an old china teapot for a vase from a cupboard, and scissors from a drawer, she smiled at Olivia working at the center island and stopped at the sink to arrange the flowers.

“Come on in here and do that,” Olivia called, rubbing her nose with the back of her forearm since her hands were covered with flour. “As long as there’s no bugs, you can use my sink.

“Oh, you brought my favorite,” she observed, seeing what Addie carried when she entered the high-ceilinged room. “I just love those bright colors.” As long as her arm was up, she nudged at the white headband holding back her tight salt-and-pepper curls. “So, did you see her?”

“Who?” Addie asked, bundling vase and flowers past the island.

“Tess, of course,” Olivia replied, as if she couldn’t imagine who else they’d be discussing. “The bride?”

“I didn’t see anyone.” Preoccupied, trying not to be, she set her flowers on the spotless counter and turned on the faucet. “I came up by the garages.”

“Well, she looks like a vision,” the loquacious cook pronounced. “I can’t begin to imagine what that gown cost, but I’m sure I could feed half the county on what they’re spending out there.” She lifted a hand toward a golden-brown casserole on the stove, flour drifting like snow. “We’re having tuna noodle as soon as we get finished up here. There’s plenty if you don’t feel like cooking for yourself tonight. I’m making pecan pies for lunch tomorrow, for those who aren’t leaving first thing. First batch will be out in ten minutes if you want a slice.”

Olivia’s pies were pure sin. Addie would have loved some, too, had her appetite not disappeared on her way into the house.

“Would you mind if I take it home with me?”

“Of course I don’t. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want you to have it,” she replied with a tsk.

“I don’t suppose you peeked inside the tent to see how everything looked,” she continued, sprinkling ice water into her stainless steel bowl.

The ends of Addie’s short, blunt-cut hair swung as she shook her head.

“Didn’t think you would,” Olivia concluded, adding a pinch of salt. “You’re not nosy enough. Must get that from your mother. Not that she isn’t nosy,” she qualified. “She just doesn’t talk that much about what she knows. Anyway, I didn’t get down there, either. But I hear that the extra tent behind the big one is the caterer’s kitchen. Your mom said they have fifty people running around down there putting the final touches on beef Wellington and salmon Oscar. Can’t imagine not working in my own space.”

Her brow pleated as she gathered the ball of dough from the bowl and plopped it on the marble rolling board. “What are you doing up here yourself? I’d have thought that after all the hours you put in the past week, you’d be taking the evening off and spending it with your fiancé.”

Addie finished filling the vase and reached for a stem of crimson red asters. “Mom needs the help.”

There was so much to do with all the extra houseguests. More people created more laundry, more cleaning, more messes and Addie knew her mom was already exhausted. Even with Ina and the new girl working, Addie also knew her mom wouldn’t quit tonight until everything was as close to perfect as she could get it. All week her mother had left the cottage an hour earlier than her usual 6:00 a.m. and returned far later than her usual eight, after dessert had been served and the dishes all done.

Her mom had always prided herself on her ability to run the Kendrick household to Mrs. Kendrick’s rather exacting standards. But since Addie’s dad had died, her mom had become even more obsessed with doing her job exactly right.

Addie would have felt incredibly guilty knowing she was resting and her mom was not.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” the cook confirmed on her way back from the double-wide refrigerator, cold marble rolling pin in hand. “There’s not a one of us who couldn’t use an extra hand right now. Can’t believe the hours we’ve put in to get everything ready and stay on top of everyone’s needs. But that’s what we’re paid for,” she murmured philosophically.

“So,” she continued easily, putting her shoulders into rolling out a quick neat circle of dough, “what kind of wedding are you having?”

“Something small,” Addie’s mom pronounced, walking in from the laundry room with an armload of freshly laundered and folded towels. Addie swore her mother had radar for hearing. She could pick up a conversation three hundred yards away. “Or maybe they should just elope. I’d be willing to pay for that myself.”

Consideration joined the fatigue in Rose’s eyes as she glanced toward her daughter. Even after running herself ragged all day, her dark hair and black uniform looked as painfully neat as always. “You know, Addie, if you did that,” she said, setting her stack on the counter, “you and Scott could get married whenever you want. You wouldn’t have to spend all that time planning and reserving and waiting for a dress to come in.”

“You’re not paying for my wedding, Mom.”

“Do you have a date in mind?” Olivia asked.