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Eden kept her eyes on Mick, while training her peripheral vision on Jed, who’d started to wobble.

Instead of unfurling slowly from his complicated pose– show-off!

– he flung his leg back, misjudged where he was and kicked the edge of a hip-high blue and green flower pot.

It toppled sideways and hit the hard tiles on which it stood.

The pot cracked and soil spilt out onto the tiles, and the ornamental topiary bush lost its lollypop head. It was a horticultural blood bath.

Whoomph! Eden sucked in some air as Mick collided with her in an over-exuberant hug that rocked her from side to side.

Uh, they’d seen each other last night! Eden patted her shoulder– when was she going to let go?

Over her shoulder, Eden watched Jed climb to his feet, scowling down at the broken pot.

Troyden and Diana placed their feet on the floor in perfect synchronicity, and everyone but Mick looked at the shattered pot.

‘Fuck,’ Jed muttered, pushing back his hair. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

‘That was only a hand-fired, hand-thrown pot from one of the foremost Japanese potters in the world, son,’ Troyden said, his tone mild.

‘Never mind the pot, it took the gardener five years to get the topiary into that exact shape,’ Diana stated, hands on her hips. ‘I’d practise extreme avoidance for the next year, Jed.’

Eden looked around for the scary gardener, expecting to see a grizzled old man with a pitchfork.

Mick nudged her with her elbow. ‘Jo is our gardener, and this walled garden is her pride and joy. She lobbied for three years to get Troyden to buy those pots, and she will be furious to see one in pieces. She might also ban us from doing yoga here now, after it took Troyden weeks to persuade her that we wouldn’t do any damage. ’

‘But doesn’t she work for Troyden?’ she asked, puzzled by the employer/employee dynamic.

‘None of the staff work for Troyden,’ Mick said, her eyes laughing, putting air quotes around the word work.

‘Jo is one of the best gardeners in the UK and Troyden gives her a free hand, as well as a cottage on the estate, a huge salary and all the time off she needs to consult on heritage gardens around the UK. Troyden doesn’t like formal gardens, so she doesn’t even have that much to do, hence her dedication to this walled garden.

Troyden poached Diana off a billionaire; she studied at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and worked as a sous chef at three Michelin-star restaurants.

They allow him the privilege of paying them. ’

‘I heard that!’ Diana told her.

‘I know!’ Mick said gaily. ‘Jed, look! Eden’s back.’

Jed’s amber eyes slammed into hers. ‘Yeah, I got that, Michaela. Your screech of welcome caused me to lose my balance.’

‘Bullshit!’ Mick shot back. ‘If you can keep your balance on a thousand-pound horse going fifty miles an hour while the crowds roar, my shouting wouldn’t cause you to tip over. No, I think it’s?—’

‘Shut up, Mick,’ Jed growled, cutting her off.

His eyes glittered and the tips of his ears reddened.

Eden lifted her eyebrows. Was Jed embarrassed ?

Because he’d broken the pot, or because her presence caused him to falter?

Hell, she wasn’t feeling too steady on her feet either.

And, dear God, she wished he’d put a shirt on!

Any moment now, she might start drooling, and that was never attractive.

Mick grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the broken flowerpot. Damn, it did look expensive.

Jed finally pulled his eyes off her and looked at his stepfather. ‘I’ll buy you another one,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck and not sounding at all convinced. ‘If I can afford it, and if I can find one.’

‘You can’t and you won’t,’ Diana crisply told him, jamming her finger into his bicep. His big, tanned and gorgeous bicep. The bicep she wanted to sink her teeth into. Oh, boy, hot panties. Eden looked down at her trainers, wishing for a breeze to cool her suddenly red cheeks.

‘Best emigrate now to some place where Jo can’t find you,’ Diana added.

Eden reached the edge of the group, Mick’s hand still on her arm.

Judging by his flinty stare, Jed didn’t share Mick’s enthusiasm at her reappearance.

And why did she have to make it sound like she was relocating to the area?

Nothing could be further from the truth.

It was a trial, for a week or so. She’d even, when she called to accept Troyden’s invitation, asked him not to reveal that she was his niece so she could make a clean getaway if she needed to.

Although disappointed, Troyden had agreed.

‘I’m just visiting for a little while, Mick,’ Eden explained, not wanting Jed to think that she was moving in permanently. ‘Maybe ten days, or two weeks.’

Jed’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at his stepfather, obviously surprised. Troyden seemed to hear his unspoken question. ‘I haven’t had a moment to tell you, Alistair and Justin, Jed, but Eden is here as my guest.’

Jed’s eyes met hers and every muscle and micro-muscle in his body tightened. ‘You met him ten days ago and you’re already moving into the house,’ he drawled. Oh, his words weren’t offensive, but his tone was. What was his probl?—

Oh. Did he think she had the hots for Troyden? Oh, come on!

Shit, he did .

She wanted to reassure him that she wanted nothing more than to get to know her uncle– she certainly wasn’t looking for his money– and winced at how that might sound without adding some context.

Then she remembered that Elmsleigh wasn’t his and that Troyden had invited her to stay.

And if Yummy Yogi didn’t like it then he could just downward dog lump it.

‘Oh, stop being a tosser, Jed,’ Mick cheerfully retorted. ‘Ignore him, Eden, he’s a grump if his yoga gets interrupted. And it’s his fault he ended up on his arse, because he’s a show-off.’

‘I did not end up on my arse; I was startled when a banshee yelled in my ear,’ Jed grumbled.

Mick waved his words away. ‘Eden, meet Kit and Mateo, they are polo players on the Castle Kings team, along with Grumpy Guts here.’

Grumpy Guts had a glorious six-pack Eden was trying not to look at.

Swallowing, she held out her hand for the men to shake, taking in their easy looks and rangy bodies.

Kit was tall, blond and Australian, while Mateo was from Argentina, all dark hair and dark eyes with a dimple that flashed when he smiled.

They were classically, undeniably attractive.

But when they shook hands, she didn’t feel a spark of attraction.

What she did do was sneeze. And sneeze again.

Mick pulled her behind her and scowled at the polo players. ‘Did you swing past the stables before you got here?’ she asked.

Kit and Mateo exchanged WTF looks and shrugged. ‘Since we’re polo players and we have a fondness for the ponies we ride, that’s our normal routine,’ Kit told her, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes. ‘I didn’t realise we had to get permission from you, princess.’

‘That’s Dr Princess to you,’ Mick snapped back, hands on her hips. ‘And Eden is allergic to horses, that’s why I asked?—’

‘Demanded. In a snotty tone,’ Kit countered.

Jed gripped the bridge of his nose. ‘Enough, for the love of Christ,’ he snapped. ‘Can you two stop griping at each other for one second?’

Mick raised dark eyebrows and her shoulders. ‘No.’

‘Probably not,’ Kit added at the same time.

Jed muttered a ‘for fuck’s sake’ under his breath.

Troyden, shaking his head, stepped in. ‘Eden, meet Daisy, she’s our head groom?—’

‘No, don’t shake her hand!’ Mick slapped her outstretched hand away. ‘You’ve got to keep your distance from anyone who has been in contact with horses.’

Right, she didn’t seem to be able to remember that. But surely shaking hands couldn’t affect her that badly? Then she sneezed and sneezed again. Mick threw her hands up in the air. ‘I’m researching how to desensitise you,’ she told Eden.

‘Um… why?’

‘Because you are my patient and my friend! And I look after both.’

Wow, okay. Judging by Mick’s ferocious expression, she apparently had a friend, whether she wanted one or not. And it felt good.

‘Well, I haven’t been anywhere near a horse,’ Justin stated. ‘I met you the other day at breakfast, but you won’t remember me. I’m Justin, married to Alistair, Troyden’s eldest.’

Eden smiled, liking his thin, intellectual face and the hint of mischief she saw in his eyes. ‘I remember. Hi, again.’

Jed who seemed to, finally, remember he was shirtless, walked over to a mat in the middle of the others and scooped up a black t-shirt. He pulled it over his head.

Sadness.

But his actions allowed Eden to take in her first full breath since she poked her head into the garden.

Breathing was rather nice. It was ridiculous that two-day-old stubble on a masculine jaw, cat’s eyes, and a muscular torso could affect her speech, vision, breathing and make her synapses misfire.

Maybe she was allergic to him, rather than horses.

Mick threaded her arm through hers and Eden had to stop herself from flinching in surprise. She wasn’t used to physical affection and wondered if it would be rude to pull away. Unsure, she simply stood there, as stiff as a rake.

‘Guess there’s no point in carrying on with yoga now,’ Jed said, bending down to pick up his mat.

Mick jerked Jed’s towel from his loose grip, then wiped her face while he rolled his eyes. ‘Why do you have to do that? You’re a smart woman, so why can’t you remember to bring a towel?’

Mick shrugged, unrepentant. ‘Because it’s far more fun to annoy you by using yours,’ she retorted tossing it back to him. She bunched her mat under her arm, and Eden took it from her and rolled it up.

Troyden patted his face with his towel. Diana simply lifted her t-shirt, flashed her ample stomach and wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead with its hem.

‘I made cinnamon rolls last night,’ she announced.

‘If anyone wants coffee and rolls, come up in fifteen minutes.’ She pointed at Kit and Mateo.

‘You too, and shower before you come up.’

‘Working around her horse allergies is going to be a pain in the arse,’ Jed muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

His words were the equivalent of a knife grazing her stomach. It shouldn’t sting, but it did. ‘Jed,’ Troyden said, his warning unmistakable.

‘We’re a horsey family, Troyden. It’s what we do ,’ Jed countered.

‘Well, for as long as Eden is here, or until she gets a handle on her allergies, we are going to be horse people who wash before entering the main house,’ Troyden told him. ‘I don’t think that’s a lot to ask, is it, Jedson?’

Eden noticed Jed’s quick grimace at the use of his full name, then he met his stepfather’s eyes. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said, shrugging.

‘That’s what I want,’ Troyden replied, his tone mild.

Jed shoved his feet into flip-flops. No one, she realised, carried phones, and she wondered who’d banned them from morning yoga. Probably Jed, control freak.

The group started to disperse, but Eden lingered on, wanting to explore more of this extraordinary space, filled with abundant flower beds and regimented rows of vegetables.

She’d tried to grow herbs in pots in her flat, but they always died, as did the indoor plants she’d bought and babied. She was a plant’s kiss of death and was in awe of anyone who could plant and maintain such a riotous space.

‘I’m going to look around,’ she asked Diana. ‘Is that ok?’

The housekeeper nodded. ‘Just don’t pick anything, or else Jo will lose it,’ she told her. ‘See you back home in fifteen.’ She looked, momentarily, horrified. ‘You’re not allergic to gluten or carbs or anything like that, are you?’

No, carbs were her spirit animal, as she told Diana, not bothering to remind her that she’d eaten two helpings of her beef wellington last night. ‘I eat everything,’ she assured her. She came from a house where money had been tight, so her mum hadn’t let anyone be picky about food.

‘Excellent. My cinnamon rolls are yum,’ Diana assured Eden, and she didn’t doubt her statement for a second. But she would have to go for a long run later.

She noticed Jed look at her, shake his head and drop to his haunches to make a pile of broken pot shards.

Eden twisted her lips and scowled at his back.

She wanted to grab him by his cotton t-shirt, stand up on her tiptoes and yell that she wasn’t a gold-digger, that she just wanted to get to know her uncle, the only family she had.

That she wasn’t a threat to any inheritance he might receive down the line.

That he could trust her…

Except he couldn’t. Her shoulders slumped.

She was, after all, the one keeping secrets.

She hadn’t told Troyden what she did for a living, or that she was involved in a situation that might blow up in her face when the truth came out.

Even if she wanted to tell Troyden the Bancrofts were in legal peril, she couldn’t.

The police had made it clear that if she leaked anything about the investigation, even that there was an investigation, she’d be charged with obstruction of justice.

When Mr Shit met Mr Fan, and given the circles the Bancrofts moved in, there was a good chance their arrest would make headlines.

She’d get caught up in it too. And, although she’d deleted her social media accounts, taken her profile off the Bancroft Foundation’s website and tried to erase every trace of herself from the internet, it wouldn’t matter.

She’d still be outed as the whistle-blower. Would the Castle clan let her explain? Would they understand why she had to go to the police? And how would it affect her standing within the family? Badly, she was sure.

Because the adage was true: last in, first out.

Suddenly everyone was gone, leaving her alone with Jed, who was bent over, resting his forehead on his knees, his eyes closed.

Was he praying for patience? It seemed highly likely.

He lifted his head, straightened, and his eyes slammed into hers, and Eden took half a step back. His hard stare pinned her feet to the ground, cynicism drifted through his eyes, and suspicion settled on his face. Jed wasn’t a guy you wanted to get on the wrong side of.

And somehow she’d done exactly that.