Eternal Vows

“I’m not that old and I haven’t been married that long.”

Peyton wiggled her fingers as she climbed into the truck. “Thanks for taking over for me this morning. I’ll see you later.” She and Ryan alternated days checking on the horses. Not only did she want to gain greater experience caring for the farm animals, but she also wanted Ryan to spend more time with his wife and three young children. She smiled. He’d more or less given her his blessing about securing employment elsewhere. Peyton believed she would never be able to come into her own professionally if she continued to work at her family’s farm.

Peyton maneuvered onto the local road leading to Cole-Thom Farms, downshifting and coming to a stop when she pulled in behind a caravan of trunks and vans inching toward the gatehouse security checkpoint. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in frustration as security personnel carefully checked the papers of the drivers in each van. Nicholas had pulled off a minor miracle when he contracted with an event planner to coordinate a reception for an estimated two hundred guests in less than forty-eight hours.

He had invited several neighboring farms to the soirée; the owners and their employees were already in a party mood because of the upcoming biannual open-house festivities, and the owner of Cole-Thom Farms sister’s wedding was an unexpected prelude to what was touted as an inexhaustible supply of food, drink and music.

Celia and Gavin had picked up their marriage license; she and Celia had selected their gowns from a bridal boutique. Except for adjustments to the bodice, the gowns hadn’t needed any major alterations. They’d also purchased wedding accessories and ordered their bouquets and the groom and best man’s boutonnieres. Customarily some brides spent a year planning their wedding, while Celia’s had taken a mere three days. The weather had also cooperated for the outdoor venue. There was hardly a cloud in the sky; temperatures were predicted to peak in the mid to high eighties, and nighttime temperatures in the mid-seventies.

Peyton gave her name to the guard, who flashed a warm smile. “Aren’t you the lady doctor from Blackstone Farms?”

“Yes, sir.”

He extended his hand. “I’m Clinton Patrick. It’s nice to put a face with a name. Welcome to Cole-Thom Farms.”

She shook the gnarled hand. “Thank you.”

“Go straight ahead and follow the signs to the end of the allée. When you come up on the one for Cole House just make a left and you’re there.”

Towering trees stood along the newly paved roadway like sentinels. The smell of freshly mowed grass wafted through the truck’s open windows. Peyton spied several mares and their foals frolicking in a meadow surrounded by white rails under the watchful eye of farm workers. Men and women dressed in coveralls were unloading vans with tables and chairs, while others were driving stakes into the ground for those waiting to set up tents. Printed signs were posted on trees with directions to turn right or left for parking and comfort stations.

When she’d called to ask Nicholas to meet her for dinner, she’d suggested a Staunton steakhouse. She told him to meet her at the restaurant because she didn’t want him to get the impression that she was trying to come on to him. If they arrived in separate vehicles, then they would leave in separate vehicles. However, he’d insisted he would come to the farm and pick her up. Her plan to talk to him about possible employment was foiled when he called back to say he’d invited his sister and future brother-in-law to join them.

Truthfully Peyton wouldn’t know how to come on to Nicholas, because he was nothing like the men she’d known. He was much too aloof, indifferent. She wasn’t an ingenue when interacting with the opposite sex. By the time she’d entered high school she recognized when a boy was interested in her. The sly glances, the purposeful brush of his body against hers and those bold enough to verbalize they wanted to sleep with her.

Then, Peyton hadn’t had a boyfriend in the traditional sense, but hung out with a group of brainiacs that were more interested in their grades than in hooking up. They did everything together: study, hang out at the mall, go to the movies and crowd into booths at their favorite restaurant chain. The cool kids teased them relentlessly, but Peyton and her fellow geeks closed ranks to strengthen their supportive, carefree bond. She never concerned herself about not having enough money for a movie or for their occasional Friday-night outings because every week everyone in the group would donate five dollars of their allowance to an unofficial sunshine fund. At the end of the school year they celebrated in grand style at an upscale restaurant.

Peyton found kindred spirits in her fellow nerds. They’d developed a friendship that went beyond high-school graduation. As college students they continued to communicate with one another in cyberspace and once a year between Thanksgiving and Christmas they’d reconnect for a celebratory weekend in their small hometown in upstate New York.

College was very different for her. She dated her roommate’s cousin who wasn’t ready or willing to come out of the closet. Peyton wasn’t ready to give up her virginity, so going out with Collier had become a win-win situation for both. Who she did give her virginity to wasn’t worth her taking off her clothes. However, she didn’t know that until it was too late.

She saw the sign for Cole House tacked to a tree, and made a left turn. A trio of chimneys came into view when she maneuvered up an incline. Peyton held her breath when she saw the white three-story antebellum great house at the end of a live oak allée. A full-height, columned porch wrapping around the front and sides of the magnificent Greek Revival mansion was something she’d only seen in books and magazines.

When she and Celia met to discuss wedding plans, the E.R. doctor revealed that Nicholas had spent most of his inheritance to set up his enterprise. Celia also said she thought her younger brother frivolous, but after seeing the farm she was forced to admit he’d proven her wrong.

Peyton parked the pickup behind Nicholas’s late-model Lincoln sedan in the circular driveway. Alighting from the truck, she walked up the steps to the porch. She lifted the massive lion’s head door knocker, letting it fall against the door painted a glossy navy blue. Seconds later it opened and she curbed the urge to take a backward step when Nicholas loomed over her. She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t expected him to answer his own door.

Peyton held her breath when she stared at the white T-shirt stretched over his broad, muscled chest. Her gaze moved slowly from his throat to the faded relaxed jeans riding dangerously low on a pair of slim hips. Her gaze reversed itself when she stared boldly at his face. There was something in his large, dark eyes that wouldn’t permit her to glance away. The nostrils of his delicate nose flared slightly when their eyes met and held.

“Good morning, Nicholas.” Peyton didn’t recognize her own voice when she stared at the stubble on his jaw. The timbre was low and breathless as if she’d run a grueling race.

Peyton failed to understand her own reaction to a man who was always seated next to her whenever Sheldon invited him for dinner. Except for a request to pass a plate or dish hardly a word was exchanged between them other than polite greetings. Their strained association had continued at the restaurant. She’d interacted with Celia and Gavin more than she had with Nicholas. However, she did get to see another side of him, a softer, relaxed part of him as he smiled at his sister’s enthusiasm whenever she talked about her upcoming nuptials. He also appeared to be amused watching Celia and Gavin share surreptitious glances, endearments and an occasional caress.

She didn’t know what it was about this reserved man that made her heart beat a little too quickly. It wasn’t only because he was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, but the way he looked through her rather than at her, which led her to ask herself if he found something about her that turned him off. She’d begun to ruminate on various reasons for his coldness, and the only thing she could come up with was perhaps she’d reminded him of someone in his past.

* * *

Nicholas opened the door wider. “Good morning, Peyton. Please come in.” He noticed her looking at his bare feet.

“How is Celia holding up?” she asked.

“She’s not.”

Her head popped up. “What!”

Nicholas almost laughed aloud when he saw Peyton’s shocked expression. The thick, charcoal-gray lashes shadowing her cheeks flew up. There was something so young and innocent about her that he suddenly didn’t want to believe she was in her twenties. She reminded him of a high-school cheerleader with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“When I saw her earlier she was so nervous she refused to eat. I’d like for you to try and get her to drink something.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

He watched Peyton glance around the entryway. “You’ve never been here?”

“No.”

“Would you like a quick tour?” Nicholas asked.

“Perhaps another time. Celia and I have to be at the salon by eleven. But, there is something I’d like to talk to you about that I didn’t get a chance to do at the restaurant.”

Nicholas studied the petite blonde woman with incredibly beautiful gray eyes and a killer, compact body. Even though Peyton Blackstone was physically the complete opposite of what he considered his type, he had to acknowledge she was stunning. Resting a hand at the small of her back, he led Peyton through the entryway and into the living room, seating her on a straight-back armchair, he taking a facing matching one. He’d been curious as to why Peyton wanted to meet with him.

“I’d like to apologize for the other night. Even though you’d called the meeting I still invited Celia and Gavin to join us.”

Peyton waved her hand. “That’s all right. If you hadn’t invited them I wouldn’t be your sister’s maid of honor.”

“It’s not all right,” Nicholas countered. “Not only was it rude but also selfish on my part.”

“I don’t want to argue about it, Nicholas. It’s not that critical.”

His eyes drilled into her. “Aren’t you going to accept my apology?”

Peyton returned his glare with one of her own. A shiver eddied over her, bringing a chill despite the comfortable temperature in the room. If Nicholas believed he was going to intimidate her, then he was mistaken. She’d grown up with a father that made intimidation his trademark. Alphonso Blackstone was a harsh taskmaster. The men working for his construction company never slacked off in fear of losing their jobs, and his sternness was transferred to his home where her mother did everything humanly possible to keep the peace. Only Peyton was immune to his unexpected outbursts. She’d learned to tune him out whenever he complained that he had had to lay men off because business orders were down, while her mother placated him with her patent “things will turn around soon.” Lena Blackstone was always the optimist and her husband the pessimist.

“We’ll talk another time.” Celia had just walked into the living room. She stood up, Nicholas rising with her. She stared at Celia, who looked as if she hadn’t slept. Her eyes were puffy and lines of strain bracketed her generous mouth. Closing the space separating them, Peyton hugged Celia. “You look a hot mess,” she whispered in her ear.

Celia returned the hug. “I’m an E.R. trauma doctor supposedly with nerves of steel, but I’m having a meltdown just because I’m getting married.”

“What you need is some comfort food for the Southern soul,” Peyton said. “We’ll stop at a little takeout place and get an order of grits and eggs.” She wanted to tell the prospective bride that getting married was one of the most important events in one’s life, and would change Celia’s and Gavin’s lives forever.

Pulling back, Celia shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything. And what do you know about soul food?”

Peyton went completely still, struggling to rein in her rising temper. “I know as much about it as you do. And please don’t let the blond hair and gray eyes and the fact I come from upstate New York delude you into thinking I’m not a woman of color.”

Nicholas knew it was time to intervene or Celia would start something with Peyton she had no chance of winning. “Cee Cee, you...” Peyton held up her hand stopping whatever it was he’d planned to say.

“Please stay out of this, Nicholas,” she warned softly. “I can understand what your sister is going through. She’s having premarital jitters, and if she doesn’t get over it real quick I’m going to seduce her drop-dead-gorgeous fiancé. And you know it’s been done before.”

Celia’s eyes grew wide. “You wouldn’t?”