Eternal Vows (Hideaway (Kimani)) (8 page)

“Let’s go.” Bending, Nicholas picked up her shoes and forcibly pulled her across the meadow.

Peyton pulled back. “You’re going to dislocate my arm!” Without missing a step, Nicholas threw her over his shoulder. The ribbon that kept her hair together slipped to the grass; her hair hung in front of her face, not permitting her to see. She pounded his broad back. The blood was quickly rushing to her head. “Put me down!”

When they were within fifty feet of one of the tents, Nicholas lowered her slowly until her feet touched the ground. Peyton’s knees buckled slightly. “Did you enjoy playing Neanderthal?” Peyton whispered, pushing her hair off her face.

Nicholas towered above her like an avenging angel. He pushed his face close to hers until their noses were almost touching. “What if it was a coyote, Peyton? Did you want to pet its head and say nice doggie before it attacked you?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Very funny, Nicholas.”

“It wouldn’t be funny if you were bitten.”

Rather than argue with him, Peyton held out her hand. “Please give me my shoes.”

Nicholas ignored her demand, bending down and slipping the heels on her bare feet. Rising, he offered his hand. “Let’s go, Cinderella.”

“I lost my hair ribbon.”

“Well, we’re not going to look for it tonight.”

Combing her fingers through her hair, Peyton twisted it into a coil, securing the ends and hoping it would stay in place. “How do I look?” she asked Nicholas.

He smiled. “Beautiful. Like a woman who’s just been made love to.”

She stared at him, complete surprise sweeping over her features. Peyton never would’ve expected that type of answer from him. “Is that good or bad?”

It was Nicholas’s turn to be shocked. Was she? He shook his head as if to banish the possibility that Peyton was as innocent as she appeared. There were times when she was more girl than woman, and he wondered if her admitting she’d foregone high-school dances and football games was another way of saying she’d shunned boys. Then he recalled their kiss. At first she’d resisted before she finally allowed him to show her how pleasurable kissing could be. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he breathed a kiss there. “Are you a virgin?” he whispered.

Peyton went stiff. “Are you?” she asked.

Nicholas pulled back, frowning. “No.”

Hands resting at her hips, eyes flashing outrage, Peyton bared her straight white teeth. “Then you have your answer.”

“But I have a reason for asking you that.”

“Well, I don’t want to know why you would ask me something that personal. Would you’ve liked it if I’d asked you if I was the first woman you’d ever kissed? I don’t think so,” she said, answering her own question. “Thank you for the dance
and
the kiss. BTW—I enjoyed both,” she flung over her shoulder as she walked into the tent.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Nicholas watched the gentle sway of her hips. A slow smile spread across his face. So, she liked him kissing her as much as he’d enjoyed kissing her. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his slacks he recalled the softness of her lips and the feel of her firm breasts pressed to his chest. However, he’d almost ruined everything because he’d come down with a supreme case of foot-in-mouth, and he made a mental promise it would not happen again. Nicholas decided he would give Peyton time to cool off before apologizing to her. She wasn’t going anywhere and neither was he. After all, they were neighbors.

He hadn’t taken more than a half-dozen steps when he came face-to-face with a man he’d met at a political fund-raiser last year that had been hosted by Sheldon. Smiling, he extended his hand. “It’s nice seeing you again, Judge McGhee.”

Franklin McGhee took Nicholas’s hand in a firm grip. “How are you, young man? Cole-Thomas, isn’t it?”

Nicholas smiled. It was apparent he had an excellent memory. “Yes. I’m well, thank you.”

The charismatic widowed judge had garnered more than ninety percent of the female vote in his election bid to retain his seat on the state’s Supreme Court. The jurist’s life story had become a blueprint for success. He was the only son of a single mother who’d worked two jobs to move her son out of public housing to a rental in a middle-income neighborhood. Franklin earned a full academic scholarship to Harvard as a political-science major. He was recruited to play on the football team, and following graduation was a third-round draft pick in the NFL as a wide receiver. He attended law school during the off season, married his college sweetheart and once he passed the bar went to work for the Southern Poverty Law Center. Franklin was a part of the team that won a landmark unprecedented 1987 anti-discrimination suit. The SPLC sued a hate group rather than individuals in the lynching death of a Mobile, Alabama, teenager.

Franklin motioned for Nicholas to step outside the tent. “Are you planning to sell off any of your stock this year? My daughter’s birthday is coming up, so I thought maybe I would surprise her with a horse. She was on the equestrian team in high school and college.”

Nicholas studied Franklin when he took off his wire-rimmed glasses and wiped his face with a white handkerchief. It’d been years since he’d played football, yet at the age of fifty-eight his tall lean body was as solid as it had been in his twenties. Those close to the judge still called him Big Red as evidenced by his red-bone complexion and curly red hair now liberally sprinkled with gray.

“I have a one-year-old colt you may be interested in.”

“Here comes Rachel now. Please don’t mention anything about the horse.”

Nicholas’s left eyebrow lifted a fraction with the woman’s approach. Everything from her short black coiffed hair to the distinctive red soles of the designer shoes silently shouted haute couture. Franklin made the introductions, Nicholas mouthing the appropriate responses. He didn’t know why, but he found himself comparing Rachel to Peyton, finding the former physically his type, but underneath her overall perfection he detected a disconcerting insipidness.

* * *

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Peyton turned when she heard Ryan’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

His impassive expression revealed nothing. “I have something to tell you. Come with me.”

She prayed it wasn’t bad news. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm against her ribs when he stopped far enough away from the crowd so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice.

Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, he took out his BlackBerry, handing it to Peyton. “One of my professors from Tuskegee just sent me a text. I can’t accept his offer, but you can.”

Peyton pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She quickly scanned the text.
Taking emergency medical leave for a year. Can you cover classes: Large Animal Medicine I & II, Introduction to Veterinary Surgery, Large Animal Surgery?

“I...I don’t know,” she stammered.

“You have to let me know
now,
Peyton. If you’re looking to advance your career, then this is an opportunity you can’t afford to pass up.”

“I’ve never considered teaching full-time.” She’d always wanted to practice veterinary medicine.

“But, weren’t you a graduate teaching assistant?”

Her eyelids fluttered wildly. “Yes.” Not only had she been a GTA, but she’d also enjoyed it. Ryan was right. Teaching would add to her experience
and
advance her career. “When would he want me to start?”

“Monday.”

“You’re kidding?” Ryan shook his head. Peyton listened intently when he explained if she did accept the position she would be offered a generous salary, free faculty housing and fringe benefits to teach fall and spring courses.

“My mother is sending me my cat.” She’d said the first thing that popped in her head. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she say if she accepted the teaching position she would miss everyone at the farm, especially all of the children? For a reason she couldn’t fathom she was more concerned about Oreo. And Nicholas did not figure into the equation. They weren’t involved with each other and it would be another year before he would be able to hire her. Timing couldn’t be better.

“I’ll take care of your cat.”

Peyton vacillated, torn by conflicting emotions. She’d come to think of Blackstone Farms as home and now she would have to leave it. The seconds ticked, becoming a full minute as she struggled to hide her confusion.

“Yes.”
The single word spoke volumes.

She would become a nomad again, traveling southward. This time she would call Alabama home for the next year.

Part Two
LOVE FOUND

Chapter 6

One year later...

L
eaning back in the leather executive chair in his home office, Nicholas Cole-Thomas stared out the French doors. Summer had dressed Virginia’s horse country in emerald lushness. The verdant landscape was reminiscent of plush green carpeting with ribbons of early morning sunlight piercing the canopy of century-old oak trees and recently planted red maple; dappled sunlight reflected off the stark white rails surrounding Cole-Thom Farms. He’d recently purchased an additional one hundred acres, expanding the farm to five hundred forty-three.

He did what he’d done every morning since purchasing the property to set up a horse farm. Nicholas rose at dawn and walked down to the stables to see the extraordinary horses before they were washed, fed and turned out to pasture to graze. He would remain long enough to talk to the stable boy and grooms, and then return to the house where his housekeeper would prepare breakfast for the resident employees living on the farm. He’d had to fire the resident cook because all of the employees were threatening to quit if they’d had to eat another pot roast or beef-stew dinner. Rather than lose his grooms, trainers, stable boy, carpenter, farrier and security personnel, Nicholas gave the man six months’ salary and a letter of recommendation. He’d asked Eugenia Jamison to fill in until he hired someone to replace Cookie, breathing an audible sigh of relief when she’d agreed. That was two weeks ago. He’d placed an ad in the local newspaper, but so far no one had called to inquire about the position. The next step was contacting an employment agency.

“Someone from Blackstone Farms just delivered this.”

Nicholas swiveled on the chair, staring at the tall, thin, middle-aged woman with cold blue-gray eyes and salt-and-pepper hair she styled in a long braid. She’d assumed the responsibility of keeping his household running smoothly. Even though he’d doubled her salary to cook three meals a day he knew it was just a matter of time before Eugenia would start complaining that she had too much work to do.

When he’d contacted an agency specializing in household help Eugenia had come highly recommended. In her former position she’d worked for an elected official until news surfaced that he’d been involved in a pay-for-sex scheme which eventually destroyed his political career. Upon first glance he thought she could’ve passed for the model in Grant Wood’s
American Gothic
masterpiece because of her dour expression. It was only after she’d worked for him for several months that Eugenia felt comfortable enough to reveal that after more than thirty years in a childless marriage her ex-husband had fallen in love with a woman young enough to be their daughter. The incident had soured her on men, and it was only on a rare occasion he saw her smile.

Rising to stand, Nicholas came around the desk and took the envelope from her outstretched hand. “Thank you, Eugenia.” He glanced briefly at the embossed black-and-red logo on the flap, the colors of Blackstone Farms’ silks, and then his gaze returned to Eugenia. His eyebrows lifted a fraction; she hadn’t moved. “Is there anything else?” he asked.

* * *

Eugenia stared at the man who’d caused a minor uproar when he’d outbid one of the wealthiest men in the region for land the latter wanted to expand his horse farm. Nicholas had not only outbid him, but had also set up a stud farm after one of his Thoroughbreds came in first in the International Gold Cup race. Racehorse owners were lining up in droves once Nicholas retired New Freedom and put him out to stud.

It appeared that whatever her boss wanted he was able to secure, and with Sheldon Blackstone as his mentor success was inevitable. She’d found her employer to be the total package: looks, intelligence and wealth. And he was the unqualified prototype for tall, dark and handsome. Nicholas stood several inches above six feet and with his deeply tanned olive complexion, cropped black hair, large dark eyes and delicate features he managed to turn the heads of women of all ages.

“The man who delivered that,” she said, pointing to the envelope in Nicholas’s hand, “said he was told to wait for your answer.”

Reaching for a letter opener, Nicholas slid it under the flap of the envelope. He quickly scanned the engraved invitation, his gaze lingering on the name for the RSVP. She was back! Peyton had returned to Blackstone Farms. His eyes met the housekeeper’s. “Tell him yes. I’ll be there.”

He was invited to a surprise sixtieth birthday celebration for Sheldon Blackstone. Nicholas smiled. There was no way he would miss the opportunity to honor the man who’d taught him everything he knew about the business and reunite with the woman he’d spent the past year thinking about.

The telephone rang and taking several steps Nicholas picked up the receiver when he saw the name on the caller ID. “What’s up, Dad?”

“I want to bring you up to date on Ana.”

Sitting on the corner of the mahogany and rosewood desk, Nicholas swung a booted foot in a back-and-forth motion. When his father had called him several months ago it was to ask whether he would let his cousin Ana stay at the farm until the people or persons who’d attempted to kill her were apprehended. He hadn’t hesitated when he told his father that he would be more than happy to have her live with him, but things changed when his older brother asked a friend who just happened to be a U.S. marshal to step in as her protector.

“
Abuela
called me the other day and told me Ana intends to stay married.”

“Damn,” Timothy drawled. “I told Mama not to say anything until I called you.”

Nicholas snorted. “No one tells Nancy Cole-Thomas what she should or should not do. You must know that by now.” His grandmother was not only opinionated, but also dictatorial, possessing an air of entitlement that was palpable. Her mother had raised Nancy and her siblings as if they were Cuban royalty, which led her daughters in particular to believe they were better born and bred than the others in their social circle.

Timothy’s soft laugh came through the earpiece. “I was hoping that she would change.”

“Keep hoping,” Nicholas countered. “I’m surprised to hear that Ana didn’t want to annul her marriage to Jacob Jones.”

“Ana and Jacob both admit they’re in love with each other and have decided to make a go of their marriage.”

“A marriage set up by my brother.”

Timothy laughed again. “Diego must have known his friend would make a good match for Ana, or he never would’ve concocted something so archaic. You have to remember that arranged marriages are still the norm in certain cultures.”

Nicholas stared at the pattern in the rug covering the floor. The colors of light and dark green and chocolate-brown were repeated with the furnishings and accessories in the masculine home/office: an overhead Tiffany-style hanging fixture, matching floor lamps, a bottle-green leather seating grouping, mahogany tables and chairs and a collection of Chinese-inspired jade vases and figurines lining the fireplace mantelpiece. An antique corner table held family photographs, dating back nearly ninety years when his great-grandfather Samuel Cole married Marguerite Joséfina Isabel Diaz in Havana, Cuba.

Nicholas smiled. “Jacob must have the patience of Job to put up with Ana. I love her dearly, but she
can
test the patience of a saint.”

“I saw them briefly before they took off for the Keys, and I must say she’s different.”

“Different how, Dad?” Nicholas asked.

“She’s calmer, almost serene. I don’t know if the realization that someone was trying to kill her was the reason, but personally I believe falling in love has changed her. She was even talking about starting a family.”

“Damn,” Nicholas said, repeating what his father had said when he told him that his grandmother had filled him in on what was happening in Florida. “She
has
changed.”

“Marriage will do that to you.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, Dad, because that’s something not in my future at this time in my life.”

“Are you saying you don’t plan to get married?” Timothy asked.

“No. I didn’t say that. It’s just that I’m not ready to settle down.”

“You’ll be thirty-four in a couple of months and—”

“I know how old I’ll be,” Nicholas said, interrupting his father, “but reaching a certain age doesn’t require getting married.”

“Well, it was different with me, son. When I met your mother I knew she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

“That’s because you’d met the right woman. So far I haven’t met
that
woman.”

“That’s only because you hang out with those damned horses. If some woman had four legs, a tail and whinnied instead of talked you’d pay her some attention.”

Nicholas clamped his teeth together. “Did you call me to give me a family update, or did you call to harass me, Dad? Diego and Celia are married, and that’s two out of your three children. And you’re a grandfather with a grandson
and
a granddaughter. What else are you missing?”

“It’s not me as much as it is your mother, Nicholas. She worries about you.”

“Tell her there’s nothing to worry about. I’m healthy, solvent and happy as a pig in slop because I’m doing exactly what I want. Convince her to come and visit and that way she can see for herself that I’m okay.”

“You tell her when you call her.”

Nicolas knew that wasn’t going to happen. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d invited her to come and visit with him, but she’d refused because like Celia she was afraid of horses. There came a beat. “What’s up with you and Mom?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You know how your mother is.”

“No, I don’t,” Nicholas retorted. “You tell me, Dad.”

There was another prolonged pause from Timothy. “She had a dust-up with your grandmother again about her cooking skills. When my mother added that she never learned to speak Spanish because she was intellectually challenged it was like two colliding locomotives carrying explosive materials.”

“You and Mom have been married more than forty years, and nothing has changed. What’s it going to take to end this senseless feud between her and your mother?”

“I don’t know, Nicky. I wish I had the answer.”

Nicholas knew his father was upset because he’d called him Nicky. It was on a rare occasion that Timothy shortened his children’s names. Whereas he called his sister Cee Cee and she in turn called him Nicky, it was always Diego for their older brother.

“Does Ana plan on having something where the entire family can meet Jacob?” he asked, deftly steering the topic of conversation away from his mother and grandmother.

“David said they plan to have a formal New Year’s Eve ceremony.”

“That’s one wedding I don’t plan to miss.” The last Cole family wedding was held at Cole-Thom Farms when Celia married Gavin Faulkner. He remembered the maid of honor...

Peyton had asked Nicholas whether he would employ her as an assistant vet to gain experience, because she hadn’t wanted to use the Blackstone name to advance her career. Nicholas had asked her to wait until the contract he’d signed with another veterinarian expired. That would happen in another month.

“Are you seeing anyone special?” Timothy asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“No, Dad,” he answered truthfully.

There was a woman he’d met at the Blackstone open house and saw several months after Peyton moved to Alabama, but decided to end it because spending time with Rachel was like watching paint dry. She was pretty, feminine, but inexorably dull. There was nothing about her that elicited a modicum of excitement. It was when she’d broached the subject of marriage and children that he told her it was better they stop seeing each other because he was unable to give her what she wanted. His inability to commit had served him well, while hopefully softening his rejection.

“Maybe I should’ve asked whether you’re dating anyone.”

“No again, Dad. I was seeing someone, but it didn’t work out.”

“What was wrong with her, Nicholas?”

There came another pause. “She’s dull as hell.”

Timothy laughed. “That will do it every time.”

Nicholas smiled even though his father couldn’t see it. Timothy had admitted to him that he’d married Nichola Bennett because she was feisty and outspoken. What Timothy hadn’t realized was that his wife’s personality was similar to his mother’s, which was why the two women constantly bumped heads.

“If I’m going to get
that
involved with a woman, then she has to be more than just a warm body.”

“Good for you, son. Your mother wants you to settle down, but she knows if she mentions it to you it’s going to start an undeclared war where I’ll end up as collateral damage when I tell her to mind her business.”

“I just tell her I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That works for you because you don’t have to sleep next to her every night.”

“Do you mind if I suggest something, Dad?” Nicholas asked.

“Sure.”

“Take a couple of months off and go somewhere exotic for a second honeymoon. You’re retired and so is Mom, so there’s nothing keeping you guys in the States. Go to Italy, the Greek Isles and stop over in Paris. Stay in the best hotels and let her shop until she drops. I’m willing to bet when you get back she’ll be a different person. She’ll forget that she still has an unmarried son and an overly critical mother-in-law. You can also use the time to teach her a little Spanish. And I’ve heard they offer cooking courses in Italy. I’m certain she would like to take part in those especially if they’re taught by celebrity chefs.”

“That’s an incredible idea! We can close up the house and travel for months. And if your mother takes a particular liking to any city, then I’ll think about buying vacation property there.”

“There you go, Dad. That sounds like a plan.”

“Thank you, Nicholas. I’m glad I called you.”

Nicholas smiled again. “So am I. Don’t forget to call me before you leave.”

“Tan pronto como yo completo nuestro itinerario de viaje que permitiré usted sabe,”
Timothy said in Spanish.

“Bueno y gracias,”
he replied in the same language. His father had promised to call as soon as he completed his travel itinerary. Nicholas knew he would feel less anxious if he knew where and when his parents were going abroad.