Eternal Vows

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

“Move 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.”