After lunch they returned to the orchid house, where Annabelle hoped she could find something else to make her indispensable to Dr. Norwood. She lingered all afternoon, listening to Gray as he recounted the story behind each orchid he’d collected.

One caught her eye. It was smaller than most, its petals a conglomeration of green and purple stripes. It almost looked gaudy, and it was tucked in a corner behind a screen of other orchids. She’d never seen anything like it in Dr. Norwood’s collection, and its coloring was so odd that she was determined to get a cutting from it, but Gray wasn’t going to make it easy. He freely showed her all the orchids in the greenhouse except that one.

It was nearing time for her to return home, and the housekeeper brought a large pitcher of lemonade to the table in the center of the orchid house. Annabelle joined Gray, listening to the splash of the fountain and breathing in the heady fragrance.

“Yesterday I promised not to take anything from your greenhouse unless you personally authorized it.”

His expression became guarded. “What is it you want?”

“A cutting.”

“From?”

She stood and walked directly to the green and purple orchid, lifting it from its sheltered position. The petals of the fragile blossom trembled as she carried it to the table and set it down. She sat opposite Gray and waited.

He folded his arms and looked at her with challenge in his eyes. “You have good taste. That’s the only orchid of its kind in the United States.”

“The color has faded since you brought it here.” It was a wild guess, but she must be right, for he looked both surprised and impressed. She pressed her case. “If you let me take a cutting, we can study it. We can figure out exactly what it needs to thrive.”

Gray leaned forward until his smiling face was only inches from hers. She felt entirely captured by his dark, delighted gaze and held her breath, eager to hear what he said next.

“Miss Larkin,” he murmured, “I already know exactly what it needs.”

“You do?”

“A light mix of iron and phosphorus, and two hours more daylight than the state of Virginia can provide. I won’t let you take a cutting.” He straightened and slid the plant across the table toward her. “Take the whole thing.”

She sucked in a quick breath. “You’re giving it to me?”

“I’m giving it to you so that you may turn it over to the director of the Smithsonian. I know he’s a lunatic when it comes to orchids. Perhaps this will buffer his disappointment at not getting the vanilla orchid.”

Her heart filled. Knowing how possessive he was of his orchids made the gift especially meaningful.

She placed her hand inside his and squeezed. “Thank you.”