Eternal Vows (Hideaway (Kimani)) (4 page)

She wanted to forget the episode in the restaurant restroom when she confessed to Celia she was in love with Nicholas. Hours later Peyton realized she hadn’t been totally truthful about her revelation. She didn’t know how to explain to Celia that she’d mentally replaced Reginald with Nicholas in an attempt to emotionally exorcise a man whom she’d loved selflessly. A love he’d exploited and abused to fuel a life filled with deception.

Picking up her bouquet of pink-and-white roses, Peyton lifted the skirt of her gown with her free hand and walked out into the afternoon sunlight, following the planner down a flagstone path to an archway covered with climbing pale pink roses. The plantings were mixed, roses set among perennials that created a riot of color. Beyond the arch was a wooden fence with a doorway.

Danielle settled her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to open the door, but I want you to wait until I give you the signal to go through. The maid of honor will go first, followed by the bride.” A photographer stood off to the side snapping frames of pictures.

Peyton, glancing over her shoulder, gave Celia a reassuring smile. She didn’t want to think about her own wedding day; she had been in love and believed when she’d married Reginald it would last forever. However, forever lasted a year and when her loving husband had called her to come and bail him out of jail her world came crashing down around her. She would’ve understood if he’d been arrested for DWI or DUI, but not solicitation. While she’d believed her husband was traveling on business, he’d actually been busy soliciting prostitutes.

Her musings were shattered when Danielle opened the gate, revealing a charming English garden. A videographer was on hand to tape the entire ceremony. It was the perfect setting for an afternoon wedding. Marble statues of fairies peeked through a border of ornamental grass; water spilled from the mouth of a large fish perched atop a wide fountain and wildflowers in every variety grew in wild abandon among with vibrant hibiscus and hanging baskets overflowing with orchids. Several low stone benches were positioned around a large waterfall, making it the perfect spot to begin or end the day.

Peyton didn’t want to look at the opposite end of the flower-strewn path, yet she found she couldn’t pull her gaze away from the tall, ramrod-straight figure seemingly willing her to meet his eyes. Nicholas stood next to Gavin under a pergola intertwined with ivy and grape leaves. It was as if he possessed special powers with an indescribable force field pulling her in his direction.

Everything around her vanished: the wedding guests sitting on white tufted chairs waiting for the ceremony to begin; Gavin watching and waiting for his bride; Reverend Jimmy Merrill clutching his bible to his chest and the guitarist’s lightning-quick fingers playing flamenco on an acoustic guitar. Nothing existed except the man with whom she felt a connection despite his overt remoteness. The guitarist’s fingers slowed as he segued from the staccato strumming to a hauntingly beautiful rendition of “I’ll Always Love You.”

Danielle moved closer. “I’m going to start counting and when I reach ten I want you to start walking. I want you to take a pause a half second between each step so everyone will get a good look at you before you reach the pergola. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Peyton wondered if the event planner had been a drill sergeant in a former life. She didn’t ask or make requests. She barked orders, expecting them to be followed without question.

At Danielle’s whispered signal, she began the measured walk along the path, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. A mysterious smile parted her lips when she recognized the shocked expressions on the faces of those who lived with her at the farm. They were used to seeing her without makeup and her hair styled in a ponytail or braid.

She gave Sheldon a perceptible nod when he winked at her. Her father’s third cousin, widowed at thirty-two, had become a sought-after widower. Twenty years later he fell in love again and married Renee Wilson. He’d also become a father for the third time when Renee gave birth to a daughter.

Lowering her chin slightly, she stared at Nicholas through her lashes when she stood opposite him. The look on his face mirrored those who knew her: shock.

Gotcha!
her silent voice shouted in triumph.

* * *

Gavin shifted until his shoulder brushed Nicholas’s. “The lady vet cleans up real good,” he said sotto voce.

Nicholas went completely still, as if someone had impaled him with a sharp instrument, while his breath solidified in his lungs. “No lie,” he whispered back.

If it hadn’t been for her hair Nicholas wouldn’t have recognized the veterinarian. She may have been given a boy’s name, yet there was nothing boyish about her petite, compact curvy body.

His gaze lingered on the toes of her shoes peeking out from under the hem of the gown that was a perfect match for her eyes before slowly inching up to the soft swell of breasts rising and falling above the revealing neckline. Staring at Peyton called to mind one of the dolls in Celia’s doll collection: perfectly coiffed golden hair, expertly applied makeup and drop-dead-gorgeous figure clothed in an exquisite evening gown.

Nicholas had feigned a lack of interest whenever Sheldon invited him to eat with his family, where invariably he and Peyton would be seated together. He’d purposely ignored her whenever they occupied the same space because she had become a constant reminder of how much he’d missed female companionship. Peyton also reminded him of when he’d ignored his intuition and had formed a relationship with a woman who was the opposite of any with whom he’d become involved. He didn’t know how, but he always felt tension radiating off Peyton, wondering why she was so uptight.

But he did get to see a very different Peyton at the restaurant. Nicholas wasn’t certain whether she’d bonded with Celia because both were doctors but she laughed easily, while exhibiting a wicked sense of humor. She appeared so much younger than twenty-seven, and with her petite frame he’d tried imagining her treating an animal as large as a horse.

Twice within the space of a week she’d tried to talk to him. Well, he mused, tonight would be different. After all, he was the best man and she maid of honor and that meant they would be forced to interact with each other. His entrancement with Peyton ended when the guitarist played the opening strains of the “Wedding March.” As if on cue, everyone stood up.

Nicholas had offered to walk Celia down the aisle, but she’d insisted that privilege belonged to their father. She’d also made him promise not to tell their parents she was marrying Gavin. He didn’t ask why but assumed Celia had a good reason for wanting to keep her marriage a secret.

He smiled, lines fanning out around his eyes with his sister’s approach. Never had she looked more serene. He’d witnessed her joy during her medical-school graduation, but this was different. Celia had been given a second chance at love. She’d been seriously wounded, while her fiancé Dr. Yale Trevor-Jones was killed instantly during the E.R. shootout. Nicholas flew from Virginia to Florida, sitting by his sister’s bedside until her medical condition was upgraded to good. He’d invited her to live with him while she recuperated, but Celia, similar to their mother, did not like horses. It’d taken a year, her falling in love and her agreeing to marry Gavin Faulkner for her to visit Cole-Thom Farms for the first time.

“Sweet heaven! She...she looks amazing.” Gavin’s voice cracked with emotion.

“All Cole women are beautiful,” Nicholas countered smugly.

Gavin chuckled. “It’s like that, brother?”

Nicholas nodded. “Damn straight, brother. You’ll see once you meet the family.”

Gavin took Celia’s right hand, tucking it into the bend of his elbow when she stood next to him. His dark eyes caressed every inch of her face. “I love you more than life itself.” A murmur went up from those sitting close enough to overhear his impassioned words.

Peyton felt hot tears prick the back of her eyelids with Gavin’s pronouncement, blinking wildly in an attempt to keep them from falling and ruining her makeup. It was obvious he was in love with his bride but she never would’ve predicated the man with the face and body of an A-list Hollywood actor would bare his soul in front of strangers. Her eyes met Nicholas’s briefly before she looked away, his expression giving away nothing.

She exhaled a soft breath, concentrating on Jimmy Merrill when he motioned for everyone to sit. The tall, rawboned minister had served as an assistant pastor in a little church in Texas before coming to Blackstone Farms to work as an assistant groom. There was a school, but no church at the farm, which prompted Sheldon to approve the construction of an interdenominational church on the south end of the sprawling property.

Jimmy opened his bible. “We’re gathered together here to join this man and this woman in the bonds of marriage. I will begin with a reading from the book of Numbers. ‘If a man vow a vow unto the Lord, or swear an oath to bind his soul with a bond; he shall not break his word, he shall do according to all that proceedeth out of his mouth. If a woman also vow a vow unto the Lord, and bind herself by a bond, then all her vows shall stand, and every bond wherewith she hath bound her soul shall stand.’”

Peyton didn’t know how, but she felt the heat of Nicholas’s gaze on her face. Giving him a sidelong glance she met his curious stare. Rays of sunlight piercing the leaves of a nearby tree slanted over his face, turning him into a statue of gold. He and Gavin had elected to wear tuxedos, the tailored jacket flattering his broad shoulders. The pale pink silk tie, fashioned in a Windsor knot under the spread collar white shirt, matched the rose boutonniere. He smiled, an elusive dimple in his lean jaw deepening.

“You look lovely,” he mouthed slowly enough for her to read his lips.

Smiling, Peyton inclined her head, acknowledging his unexpected compliment. She was brought back to the ceremony when Jimmy asked Nicholas for Celia’s ring. Reaching into the pocket of his tuxedo, he handed Gavin the platinum band. Peyton repeated the gesture, removing the groom’s band off her thumb. She held Celia’s bouquet of pale pink roses tied with two yards of wide silver picot-edged ribbon.

Resting his hand over Celia’s and Gavin’s, Jimmy whispered a quiet prayer blessing the newlyweds’ union. Smiling, a network of fine lines fanning out around his eyes, he said in a clear voice, “Gavin, you may kiss your bride.”

Wrapping both arms around Celia’s waist, Gavin lifted her off her feet and kissed her passionately. Celia responded by looping her arms around her husband’s neck, returning the passionate kiss.

Jimmy smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to present Mr. and Mrs. Gavin Faulkner.”

His announcement was followed by applause and shouts. Peyton handed Celia her bouquet and taking Nicholas’s proffered arm, she retraced her steps down the path as the many guests showered Gavin and Celia with flower petals, rice and birdseed.

As they stepped through the garden door, they were met by the photographer. “Please wait off to the side until everyone leaves because I want to take photos of the wedding party.”

Nicholas placed his arm around Peyton’s waist, smiling when the bride and groom accepted best wishes from complete strangers. He shook the hands of those who congratulated him on his sister’s marriage.

He knew his mother was concerned that he would never marry, yet that wasn’t a concern for Nicholas. He hadn’t said he would never marry. The question was when. If or when he met that special woman then he wouldn’t have to be coerced to commit.

Peyton, who’d slipped her arm around Nicholas’s waist inside his jacket, whispered, “It was perfect.”

“Celia is more than worthy of perfection because she’s gone through a lot this past year. It’s the least I could do for her.”

“You did real good, Nicholas.”

They shared a smile. “So did you, Peyton.”

The last guest had filed out of the garden, heading for the reception area when the photographer and videographers ushered the wedding party back into the garden for photographs that would recapture the occasion for posterity.

Chapter 3

“M
ove a little closer to the best man,” the diminutive photographer instructed Peyton. “I doubt if he will bite you,” he added with a Cheshire cat grin.

He’d taken frame after frame of the bride and groom posing in front of the fountain, under the pergola, the flowering archway, outside the garden gate, Gavin sitting on the stone bench with Celia, while she reclined against his shoulder. There were shots with Gavin and Nicholas, Celia and Peyton, and all four laughing, hugging and kissing. Peyton felt her knees buckle slightly when Nicholas brushed his mouth over hers. It’d only lasted seconds but for her it was long enough to savor the surprisingly gentle caress of his firm mouth.

Chuckling, Nicholas pressed his mouth to her ear. “He’s right. I don’t bite.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That photographer is a little pervert,” Peyton whispered between clenched teeth. “Didn’t you see him salivating on my chest every time he tried to get me into a pose?”

Nicholas’s arm tightened around her waist. He chanced a quick glance at her décolletage. The top of her tanned breasts were on sensual display each time she took a breath. “Do you want me to punch him out?”

“No! Please don’t.” Gavin and Celia, standing a short distance away turned and stared at Peyton with the sudden outburst. She couldn’t stop the wave of heat creeping from her chest to her face. Peyton didn’t know if Nicholas was serious or joking. However, she didn’t want him to become the knight in shining armor stepping in to defend her and ruin his sister’s special day with a physical confrontation.

Myron Essex frowned at Peyton. “Is something wrong, Ms. Blackstone?”

She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, Mr. Essex.”

Myron threw up both hands in a gesture of exasperation. “I cannot work like this if you don’t cooperate with me.”

Her jaw dropped. What was he talking about? Cooperate. She’d done everything he’d wanted her to do, and still it didn’t seem to be enough. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am cooperating but what is it exactly do you—”

“Enough with the melodrama, Essex,” Nicholas interrupted angrily. He wasn’t going to stand there and let the man insult Peyton. In fact, she had done everything he’d wanted her to do. “Let’s get this done so we can go and mingle with our guests.”

The harshness in his tone dared the photographer to challenge him. After all, he was paying the man top dollar for the wedding photos. He didn’t know if
the little pervert,
as Peyton referred to him, liked her and had a perverse way of showing it by being overly critical; he also had tired of the endless posing that had taken up more than an hour. Peyton had been nothing short of perfection—from the way she looked to being accomplished and adept when following the photographer’s directives.

Myron recoiled as if he’d been struck across the face, however he recovered quickly. “I need Ms. Blackstone to turn her left shoulder until she’s half facing you. And, Mr. Thomas, I need you to place your right hand on Ms. Blackstone’s left shoulder. I want both of you to look at each other. That’s it,” he said, his voice rising in excitement. Peering through the viewfinder of his camera, he got off five shots in rapid succession. “Nice. Now I need the entire wedding party to stand together. We’ll take this one in front of the waterfall. The ladies will stand next to each other with the men flanking them.”

Dappled sunlight filtered through a grove of flowering fruit trees, a slight breeze showering those in the garden with white and pink petals. Peyton raised her chin slightly as several landed on her hair and lashes; she smiled like a young child watching falling snow. Nicholas stared at her upturned face, the image caught by the camera lens. Celia resting her head on Gavin’s shoulder as he lowered his head to kiss her hair was captured in the same frame.

Myron lowered his camera and puffed out his chest. Even before seeing the digital image she knew the shots were exquisite. “I’m finished for now. I’ll take some more at the reception.”

Reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, Nicholas took out his cell phone and tapped several buttons. “I need you to bring the car around to drive us over to the reception area.”

* * *

It was obvious Nicholas had pulled out all the stops to celebrate Celia’s impromptu marriage. The invited guests, seated or standing under white tents, were drinking or talking to one another as a DJ was busy spinning tunes. Several couples were already up on the portable dance floor showing off their fancy footwork. Solar lanterns and gardenia leaves floating in water-filled crystal bowls served as centerpieces for each table.

An outdoor kitchen had been set up on the south meadow with eight chefs preparing cook-to-order meals for nearly two hundred guests. The caterer, with a staff of fifty were kept busy filling water goblets, serving alcoholic libations, taking orders and setting out plates of salad and freshly baked artisan bread.

Nicholas glanced up at the waiter who paused in front of him with a bottle of Perrier in one hand and white wine in the other. “I’ll just have the water.”

The white-jacketed waiter filled the goblet with sparkling water. “Would you prefer red wine?”

“No, thank you. The water is fine.” He noticed Peyton giving him a questioning look. “What’s wrong?”

She blinked. “Are you abstaining tonight?”

Leaning to his right, his shoulder touched hers. “I’m waiting for the champagne toast. Remember we have the open house at your farm tomorrow night and Harridans on Saturday night. You’ve never been to a horse farm open house?” he asked when she gave him a blank stare.

Peyton shook her head. “No. This will be my first year. I’ve spent the last eleven years of my life in school. And that includes college and veterinary school, including an internship and another three years of residency training. As a kid I would always spend the month of August down here, and cry my eyes out when I had to go back home.”

“Had you always wanted to become a vet?” Nicholas asked.

Staring up at him through her lashes, Peyton’s lips parted in a smile. “Always and forever,” she crooned. “I knew I had to study very hard and that meant missing high-school dances and football games.”

His gaze lingered on her mouth. “So, you were one of the smart kids.” The query was a statement.

Throwing back her head, Peyton laughed softly. “I was the personification of a geek.”

“No way,” he countered.

“Yes way. And it paid off.”

Nicholas paused. “There’s nothing better than realizing your dream.”

Peyton heard the wistfulness in his voice. “Have you realized yours, Nicholas?”

He cocked his head, seemingly deep in thought. “I have, but I had to take a circuitous route. Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked, deftly changing the topic.

Drawing in a deep breath, she told Nicholas about her attempts to secure a position as an equine veterinarian at several of the other horse farms but without success. “I’m even willing to volunteer my services.”

“Isn’t your farm large enough to support two resident vets?”

“You’re missing the point, Nicholas. When someone mentions Blackstone Farms’ vet everyone knows they’re talking about Ryan. However, if I were to work for you Cole-Thom Farms would have its own Dr. Blackstone.”

Nicholas draped an arm over the back of Peyton’s chair. “I’d love to help you out, but I have a contract with Dr. Harry Richardson that doesn’t expire until next September. And I wouldn’t feel comfortable having you volunteer your services. That would be exploitation. But, if you can wait a year I’ll be more than willing to consider your offer.”

Peyton breathed out an inaudible sigh of relief. At least Nicholas hadn’t turned her down flat like some of the other owners. She didn’t want to believe it was because of professional jealousy, but competition and rivalries between horse farms was as epidemic as in other professional organized sports.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Placing his hand over hers outstretched on the tablecloth, Nicholas gently squeezed her delicate fingers. “You’re welcome. Have you decided what you want to eat?” He’d noticed she hadn’t checked off any of her dining selections.

Peyton eased her hand from under Nicholas’s much larger one. She picked up the pencil beside her place setting. “I can’t decide between the prime rib and fish selections.”

Nicholas picked his own pencil. “Why don’t you go for the surf and turf?”

She studied the printed menu. The caterers had listed medallion filet mignon and prime rib for beef selections and broiled salmon, Maryland-style crab cakes and pan-fried sole under fish. Chicken cordon bleu, broiled Cornish hens and herb-encrusted roast chicken were available for those who preferred poultry. While they’d posed for photos the guests were served hot and cold hors d’oeuvres along with specially mixed exotic drinks with and without alcohol. The grits, eggs and fish she’d eaten earlier that morning had managed to sustain Peyton throughout the morning and afternoon, but now she was ready to eat again.

“I think I’m going to have the prime rib and crab cakes,” she said.

Nicholas checked off his choices. “I’m going totally fish tonight. Salmon and sole.”

“After this weekend I know I’m going to have to either fast or detox,” Peyton said. The Blackstones had decided on a cookout theme for their open-house celebration, and she hadn’t heard what the Harridans were planning.

Nicholas had to agree with Peyton. Although he hadn’t officially announced that Cole-Thom Farms was hosting an open house, inviting two neighboring farms to Celia’s wedding reception had become a fitting substitute. He was more than aware of the lingering resentment among several of the owners with farms with racing and horse-breeding histories going back more than eighty years. He was viewed as the new kid on the block who purportedly had enough money to not take on investors.

With the exception of Sheldon Blackstone, none of them knew much about him. Once he’d taken possession of the deeded land and begun the task of restoring the house that would become his permanent home, Sheldon had come and offered to help him in every way he could to make the transition smooth and easier than it had been for him more than forty years ago.

Sheldon had become Nicholas’s surrogate father, mentor and a relentless tutor when Nicholas found himself tested over and over as to different breeds and the finite mechanics that went into horse racing. Peyton claimed she studied hard to become a veterinarian and he’d studied equally hard to become a horse breeder.

Dusk had descended on the farm and light from strategically placed lampposts had come on, illuminating the landscape and turning it into an emerald forest. Strings of lights entwined in tree branches twinkled like stars in the encroaching darkness.

All of the horses were stabled before the first guests had arrived and the farm’s security staff circulated inconspicuously among the assembly. Stringent precautions were taken to protect and secure millions in horseflesh whenever visitors were present. Closed-circuit TVs were viewed by the person manning the gatehouse and inconspicuously placed cameras monitored activity throughout the four-hundred-plus acres. There was another hundred acres of vacant land bordering the west end of the property Nicholas wanted to purchase not because he wanted to expand the farm but for better security. Signs were posted around the perimeter stating:
Trespassers Will Be Shot on Sight and if Still Alive, Then Prosecuted.
He’d increased security when there were rumors that someone had planned to steal a prized Arabian stallion he’d purchased for breeding.

A waitress picked up the dining requests from those at the bridal table as the maître d’ urged those standing around to take their seats because the waiters would begin serving dinner. Leaning forward in his chair, Nicholas noticed that Celia was resting her head on Gavin’s shoulder, and he wondered if she was overwhelmed with all of the festivities or she wasn’t feeling well. It’d only been a year since she’d hovered between life and death; she’d lost nearly one-fourth her body’s blood supply after being shot with a powerful handgun that could’ve ended her life if it’d struck a vital organ. She was luckier than many gunshot victims because she was in a hospital where immediate care was readily available.

Pushing back his chair, he stood and came around behind her. “Are you okay, Cee Cee?”

Celia gave him a slow smile. “It’s all coming down on me now that I’m a married woman.”

He dropped a kiss on her hair as he met Gavin’s eyes. He knew his brother-in-law would take care of his sister. Nicholas had always been overly protective of his sister even though she was older. It was something that had been drilled into him as a young boy. Cole men always protect their women. He and Diego didn’t have to worry about protecting Celia any longer because Gavin was more than qualified to do that.

Returning to his seat, Nicholas shared a smile with Peyton. Overhead light glinted off the diamonds in the bracelet circling her left wrist. “Nice bracelet,” he said softly.

Peyton held out her hand. “It was a gift.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Someone must really like you.”

“You’re right,” she confirmed. If Celia hadn’t told Nicholas she’d bought the bracelet, then neither would she. She studied his lean dark face, unaware that she’d been holding her breath. The stubble from this morning was missing and he’d had a haircut. He was so handsome that Peyton believed she’d conjured him up, and she wondered how he had managed to escape the clutches of some marriage-minded woman whose goal was to become Mrs. Nicholas Cole-Thomas.

Even if Nicholas had shown a romantic interest in her Peyton knew unequivocally she wasn’t emotionally ready to become involved in a relationship. Her feelings for Nicholas vacillated like the rise and fall of the tide, and it was apparent her personal maturity hadn’t kept pace with her professional maturation. And if she were to thank him for anything it would be his detachment. It saved her from making the same mistake twice.

The mood of the music changed from upbeat to instrumentals of classic pop songs as waiters, hoisting trays on one shoulder began placing orders down on the many tables. Nicholas touched his glass of water to Peyton’s, and she repeated the gesture with Celia who in turned touched her glass to Gavin’s. Wine flowed liberally as the mouthwatering aroma of food filled the air, the mood becoming more and more festive. The videographer circulated, capturing smiles, animated gestures and the overriding sound of laughter.