Rochelle Alers - Eternal Vows

“Are you speaking from experience, Peyton?” Gavin asked.

Smiling, she shook her head. Her marriage had been the exception rather than the norm. “No. Those are my mother’s words.”

“She sounds like a wise woman.”

Peyton didn’t want to refute Gavin’s assessment of her mother. Wherein Lena Blackstone had excelled as a mother she’d failed miserably as a wife, because she’d become a throwback to an era when women took the vow to obey their husbands literally. Lena’s stance on this issue had been a source of contention between Peyton and her mother for years. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her father, but Alphonso Blackstone’s need to dominate his wife and his employees had been the reason for her living in Virginia rather than return to her home state.

“She is a wonderful mother,” she said instead.

Nicholas winked at Celia. He’d cut in on his brother-in-law because it gave him an excuse not to dwell on how good it felt to hold Peyton in his arms. And after so many hours he still hadn’t recovered from her shocking transformation from the ingenue with a ponytail, jeans and flats to the startling sophisticate that left him with his mouth gaping. He also hadn’t missed the lustful 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.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.