The Return Of Adams Cade. Bj James

      “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 uniquely different young men was unaware of her entrance. In an instant each was on his feet, vying to be first to hug her, first to kiss her. And in Jackson’s case, she feared, first to threaten the strength of her ribs.

      It would have been overwhelming if the anticipated jousting hadn’t been a common occurrence since she’d known them. They were the Cades, not just a breed apart from other men, but among themselves. Yet, in their differences, once they had been a close family. Eden hoped they could be again.

      “Lincoln,” she said in greeting as the tallest, and second oldest, took command, virtually lifting her off her feet.

      Before his kiss was finished, she was snatched away by Jackson, the fiery one. Whose exuberant bear hug, as expected, literally took her breath away.

      “Hey, brother, don’t break her in half or you’ll have our older brother to contend with,” Jefferson said as he gently extricated her from Jackson’s brawny arms.

      Jefferson, the quietest of the four, clasped her shoulders, looking her up and down as if inspecting her for injuries. Then he laughed, muttered something about being indestructible and beautiful, and drew her in his arms. “How are you, Robbie?” he murmured against her cheek. Then, in a breath, “How is he?”

      Putting her from him, but not letting go of her hand, he asked in an oddly desperate tone, “How is Adams?”

      “He was tired when he arrived, and deeply concerned about Gus. But one of the staff informed me he had an early breakfast. Though not so early that I would think he didn’t sleep well. I’m hoping that means he’s rested.” Going with Jefferson to the sofa, she took the seat he offered.

      For all that he lacked in compassion, Gus Cade had never stinted on social instructions for his sons. They might have been prone to mischief and each had scattered the wildest of oats, but few in conventional and proper Belle Terre could match Jefferson, Jackson or Lincoln for gallantry. And only one could best them, Eden recalled. Only the first of them. Only Adams.

      Taking the coffee Lincoln poured from a silver server and cream from the pitcher Jackson offered, she sipped dutifully before continuing her report. “Adams is staying in the river cottage. I thought it would be more suitable for your reunion.”

      Eden knew that in direct defiance of Gus Cade’s decree, the brothers had seen each other sporadically over the years. But never in Belle Terre. Never so close to home and Gus.

      None of them wanted to hurt Gus, but nor were they willing to abandon their brother as the father had. Secrecy and distance had been the answer. Yet when Adams came to River Walk, Eden hadn’t doubted that Lincoln, Jackson and Jefferson would come, as well.

      Looking from one startlingly attractive, startlingly different brother to the next, Eden wondered why life had become so busy that they saw each other so little. Even so, she knew she mustn’t keep them. None would think of rushing her, but she realized that beneath the decorum they were eager to be with Adams.

      “When I went to the garden this morning, the grounds-keeper said he had seen Adams down by the river-cottage dock. I assume he’s still there.”

      “He’s here,” Adams’ voice drifted to them from the open doorway. “Dropping off some fish for dinner.”

      Clasping her cup tightly to keep from dropping it, Eden looked to the door. Before his brothers surrounded him, she saw the perfectly barbered hair was disheveled, the perfectly tailored suit had been exchanged for a cotton shirt and denims, the perfectly shined shoes for sneakers. Best of all, in the smile he flashed at her, she saw the ghost of the young man she’d loved.

      Lincoln was first to speak as they clasped hands to forearms as they had as boys. “I’ve waited for this, for the day you would come home.”

      “Not home, Linc, but close enough, I suppose.” Though his pleasure in being with his brothers was heartfelt, the hurt in Adams’ eyes was not so skillfully hidden. “But wherever, whenever, it’s good to see you. All of you.”

      “Adams.” Jackson clasped the other arm. Each man’s brawny forearm was aligned, with their hands circling the muscles barely below the elbow of the other. A salute began as a secret ritual of boys survived to become the affectionate gesture of men.

      Watching discreetly, Eden wondered how many times she had seen these proud, vigorous men display their affection. That the brothers loved one another and their father deeply was forever evident. Only Gus, who had driven his sons without mercy, judged without compassion, had never offered an iota of affection.

      Only Jefferson, the youngest, had ever seemed to matter to the caustic old man. Being Gus’ favorite might have made Jefferson’s life easier in some ways. But, as few could understand, Eden knew that in the ways that mattered most it made his life far more difficult.

      Perhaps there was some explanation for the special bond that had always existed between Adams, the whipping boy, and Jefferson, the favored son. One even Eden could never fathom. It was simply a tie none but the Cades could understand.

      As Lincoln and Jackson stepped away from Adams, Jefferson was there, standing before him. Not touching him,