She wanted to stay in sight of the kitchen and was glad when they rounded a corner and saw the garden. Her mouth fell open. In the tradition of English gardens in the large estates with castles, the hills were rolling green and the bushes made up a labyrinth. Trees dotted the slopes, the branches twisted into looping shapes where orchids spilled down the trunks and rose upward in every conceivable color.

Alberto laughed with pleasure at her reaction. “I’ve had years to work on it.”

“It’s lovely. More than lovely. Unbelievable, Alberto.” She forgot about her sore body and took a few steps down the path obviously put in for his wheelchair, moving a little too rapidly and having to gasp and wrap her arms around her midsection. As she did, she turned away from the others, hoping they wouldn’t see her wince. She felt a little sick and pain stabbed through her left side. The worst was as she’d lengthened her stride, she felt the protest in her groin where the wounds rubbed against the material.

Swallowing hard, she glanced back toward the house. A servant came out of the kitchen with a covered tray—a large tray. Isabeau turned back toward Alberto, took a step and gave a little hop, as if she had a pebble in her shoe. Instantly, Conner was there, allowing her to use his body to hold on to while she removed her shoe.

“I think she’s taking food to the children,” she murmured low, and then aloud, “thank you.” She left his side without looking at him to crouch beside what amounted to a field of bird of paradise. “Alberto, these are amazing. I’ve never seen so many together like this.” It was important to keep them where Conner could follow the progress of the female with the tray.

Harry rolled Alberto’s chair back to her as Conner moved away from her, into a position better suited to watch their surroundings, supposedly for any threats, in reality to follow the progress of the servant.

“This is the best soil,” Alberto said, bending to scoop some of the rich dirt into his palm. “Right behind the kitchen, I have an entire bed devoted to herbs, so the chef always has fresh herbs. We have a vegetable garden just over there, inside that building. I can’t grow vegetables very successfully out in the open because of the insects. They eat everything before we have a chance to harvest, so we built a greenhouse.”

Isabeau glanced in the direction he pointed to see the servant with the tray through the glass walls disappearing into a jungle of green foliage. Her heart jumped. “That’s an enormous greenhouse. Is it hydroponic or did you use soil beds?” She made the interest in her voice plain. Either the servant was taking a shortcut through the greenhouse to get to the children or they were in that very large building.