Eternal Vows. Rochelle Alers
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stares from men when she’d walked down the carpet; he also understood why the photographer had given her a hard time. Myron Essex had reverted to an adolescent boy who liked a girl but didn’t know how to show it, so he either teased or harassed her.
Nicholas had left adolescence behind years ago, yet he hadn’t felt the need to tease or harass her. He’d found it easier to simply ignore her, convincing himself that she wasn’t there when everything about her was imprinted in his memory like a permanent tattoo. There had only been one other woman who’d affected him the way Peyton had within minutes of their meeting, and he’d known beyond the shadow of a doubt she would become his wife and the mother of their children. After an intense courtship and a proposal of marriage, his world fell apart. Not only had the woman he’d loved selfishly walked away from him, but he was forced to walk away from a career he’d wanted for what seemed like forever.
“How can I thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Nicky?” Celia asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“Promise me I’ll be godfather to your firstborn. Jacob Jones trumped me when Diego picked him to be Samuel’s godfather.”
“I promise. But I’m going to tell you right now that I’m going to ask Peyton if she’ll be godmother. Aside from Hannah and a college friend, I really don’t have any other close girlfriends, and even though we just met I feel Peyton’s the sister I’ve always wanted.”
Nicholas’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “She is rather remarkable.”
“Oh, so you noticed?”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Cee Cee?”
Celia leaned in close to her brother, her mouth pressed to his ear. “She’s perfect for you. And what is the expression? If you’re slow you’ll blow. Every single man and probably a few married ones would like to exchange places with you tonight. She’s not only smart, but also pretty. You’ve dealt with a few losers in the past. Especially Arden. So, please don’t let Peyton get away.”
Nicholas clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw twitching noticeably. His sister didn’t know what she was talking about. “There’s nothing going on between me and Peyton.”
“Maybe there should be,” Celia countered.
His eyes narrowed. “What’s up with the matchmaking?”
Celia closed her eyes for several seconds. “This is one of the happiest days of my life and I want the same for you. You have an incredibly beautiful twelve-room house that’s more of a museum than a home. You own hundreds of acres of land where you breed horses when you should be breeding babies of your own,” she continued passionately. “Even if you don’t hook up with Peyton I want you to promise me that you’re going to stop this self-exile and start dating again. Not every woman you’ll meet will be like Arden.”
Nicholas spun his sister around in an intricate dance step. “I’ll promise only if you quit nagging me. You’re beginning to sound like our mother.”
Celia sobered. “Speaking of our mother. Don’t mention anything about me marrying until I get to tell her in person.”
“When is that going to happen?”
“Once the trial is over I’ll tell everyone.” As the state’s only surviving witness Celia had sought refuge in her vacation home in the Great Smoky Mountains to await the trial that would finally close the chapter on the E.R. massacre.
“You know all hell is going to break loose when you tell Dad. He’s been waiting years to walk his only daughter down the aisle.”
Her dimples winked at Nicholas when she smiled. “He will still have that honor when Gavin and I repeat our vows in West Palm this coming New Year’s Eve. And once we make Mama a grandmother again she’ll calm down.”
Dipping his head, he kissed his sister’s cheek. “Let’s hope you’re right.” The dance ended and he escorted Celia back to Gavin.
Nicholas scanned the crowd looking for Peyton, finding her surrounded by a group of men as if she were holding court. Some he recognized from Blackstone Farms, but there were a few he didn’t recognize. And from their expressions they were enthralled with her. He recalled what Celia had said about not letting her get away. He couldn’t stop her from getting away if he never had her.
And Nicholas was forced to ask himself if he did want Peyton, and the answer was as plain as the nose on his face. Yes, he did. What he had to figure out was for what. Did he want friendship or a relationship that was wholly physical in nature? He didn’t want more than that, because for him falling in love was not an option. Been there, done that and he wasn’t willing to travel that route again.
Chapter 4
Peyton woke to the sound of the woodpecker’s drumming. It was as if the bird’s very life depended upon his making the infernal noise. Maybe he thought he was an alarm clock. Unfortunately she couldn’t hit the snooze button and go back to sleep for another ten or fifteen minutes. She had to get up and check the horses. Pushing into a sitting position, she supported her back against a mound of pillows. She also couldn’t linger in bed because she’d been recruited to serve on the open house’s welcoming committee.
A soft moan slipped past her lips when she felt a twinge of tightness in her calves. It’d been after midnight when she returned to the farm and it was close to one-thirty when she finally crawled into bed after cleansing her face of makeup, taking down her hair and taking a leisurely bath to soak her aching legs and feet. Peyton had lost count of her many dance partners after the third one. She danced with her cousins, the men from her farm and the neighboring ones. A few times she caught Nicholas staring at her with obvious disapproval, but she felt free, freer than she’d been in a very long time. Weddings fêted the joining of shared futures and she felt the bride and groom’s joy as surely as it was her own.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she walked gingerly on bare feet to the bathroom. Forty minutes later she returned to the bedroom at the same time her cell phone stopped ringing. Please, she thought, don’t let it be Reginald.
Reaching over, she picked up the phone, smiling. She’d missed one call, this one she always welcomed. Touching the screen, she listened for a break in the connection. When Lena’s husky greeting came through the earpiece Peyton went still.
“Mama. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. I’m just a little hoarse this morning. I was working in the garden yesterday and the pollen got to me. Your father claims I sound sexy.”
Peyton smiled. “You do.”
“I just called to say hello.”
Her smile faded. Her mother never called just to say hello. “What’s going on, Mama?”
“Your father just stripped and varnished all of the doors and he’s threatening to take the cat to a shelter if he—”
“Please don’t tell me any more,” Peyton interrupted. “I want you to crate Oreo and send him to me at the farm.”
“You don’t mean that, Peyton.”
“Yes I do mean it.” She enunciated each word. “Daddy’s not giving that cat to a shelter because if he’s not adopted then he’s going to be euthanized. You have my credit-card information, so you don’t have to use your own money. Ship him to the Shenandoah Valley Regional Airport. Make certain you put down my cell as the primary number on the shipping label and the farm’s as the secondary number. I’ll drive up and get him once he arrives.”
Oreo had been a rescue cat. After she’d become involved with Reginald, Peyton gave the kitten to her mother because he was allergic to cats. Her father never liked Oreo, and was probably looking for an excuse to get rid of him.
“I really like Oreo,” Lena admitted.
“But Daddy doesn’t, so that means I’m taking