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 the impression 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. “The Pelican is 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.