Eternal Vows. Rochelle Alers

she said under her breath as the attendant handed her Gavin’s double milgrain platinum wedding band. She put the ring on her thumb. She reached for Celia’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Gavin is very, very lucky. You are the perfect bride.”

      A fringe of long lashes concealed Celia’s eyes. “Thank you, Peyton. And you’re a beautiful maid of honor, a wonderful friend, and I hope one day we’ll become more than friends.” She leaned in close. “I’m willing to bet Nicholas won’t be able to take his eyes off of you tonight.”

      Danielle walked into the room, clapping her hands. “Ladies, we’re ready to begin. Maid of honor first, then the bride.”

      Peyton didn’t want to think about Nicholas. She’d begun to believe her fascination with him was due to his mysteriousness. She’d watched him interact with other people, and not once was she able to discern from his expression what he was feeling. If he had been angry or annoyed that emotion also remained hidden behind a facade of polite indifference. She rarely saw him laugh or smile. Dinner at the restaurant had been the exception and she wondered if it had anything to do with Celia’s presence. It was obvious he adored his sister.

      She wanted to forget the episode in the restaurant restroom when she confessed to Celia she was in love with Nicholas. Hours later Peyton realized she hadn’t been totally truthful about her revelation. She didn’t know how to explain to Celia that she’d mentally replaced Reginald with Nicholas in an attempt to emotionally exorcise a man whom she’d loved selflessly. A love he’d exploited and abused to fuel a life filled with deception.

      Picking up her bouquet of pink-and-white roses, Peyton lifted the skirt of her gown with her free hand and walked out into the afternoon sunlight, following the planner down a flagstone path to an archway covered with climbing pale pink roses. The plantings were mixed, roses set among perennials that created a riot of color. Beyond the arch was a wooden fence with a doorway.

      Danielle settled her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to open the door, but I want you to wait until I give you the signal to go through. The maid of honor will go first, followed by the bride.” A photographer stood off to the side snapping frames of pictures.

      Peyton, glancing over her shoulder, gave Celia a reassuring smile. She didn’t want to think about her own wedding day; she had been in love and believed when she’d married Reginald it would last forever. However, forever lasted a year and when her loving husband had called her to come and bail him out of jail her world came crashing down around her. She would’ve understood if he’d been arrested for DWI or DUI, but not solicitation. While she’d believed her husband was traveling on business, he’d actually been busy soliciting prostitutes.

      Her musings were shattered when Danielle opened the gate, revealing a charming English garden. A videographer was on hand to tape the entire ceremony. It was the perfect setting for an afternoon wedding. Marble statues of fairies peeked through a border of ornamental grass; water spilled from the mouth of a large fish perched atop a wide fountain and wildflowers in every variety grew in wild abandon among with vibrant hibiscus and hanging baskets overflowing with orchids. Several low stone benches were positioned around a large waterfall, making it the perfect spot to begin or end the day.

      Peyton didn’t want to look at the opposite end of the flower-strewn path, yet she found she couldn’t pull her gaze away from the tall, ramrod-straight figure seemingly willing her to meet his eyes. Nicholas stood next to Gavin under a pergola intertwined with ivy and grape leaves. It was as if he possessed special powers with an indescribable force field pulling her in his direction.

      Everything around her vanished: the wedding guests sitting on white tufted chairs waiting for the ceremony to begin; Gavin watching and waiting for his bride; Reverend Jimmy Merrill clutching his bible to his chest and the guitarist’s lightning-quick fingers playing flamenco on an acoustic guitar. Nothing existed except the man with whom she felt a connection despite his overt remoteness. The guitarist’s fingers slowed as he segued from the staccato strumming to a hauntingly beautiful rendition of “I’ll Always Love You.”

      Danielle moved closer. “I’m going to start counting and when I reach ten I want you to start walking. I want you to take a pause a half second between each step so everyone will get a good look at you before you reach the pergola. Do you understand?”

      “Yes ma’am.” Peyton wondered if the event planner had been a drill sergeant in a former life. She didn’t ask or make requests. She barked orders, expecting them to be followed without question.

      At Danielle’s whispered signal, she began the measured walk along the path, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. A mysterious smile parted her lips when she recognized the shocked expressions on the faces of those who lived with her at the farm. They were used to seeing her without makeup and her hair styled in a ponytail or braid.

      She gave Sheldon a perceptible nod when he winked at her. Her father’s third cousin, widowed at thirty-two, had become a sought-after widower. Twenty years later he fell in love again and married Renee Wilson. He’d also become a father for the third time when Renee gave birth to a daughter.

      Lowering her chin slightly, she stared at Nicholas through her lashes when she stood opposite him. The look on his face mirrored those who knew her: shock.

      Gotcha! her silent voice shouted in triumph.

      * * *

      Gavin shifted until his shoulder brushed Nicholas’s. “The lady vet cleans up real good,” he said sotto voce.

      Nicholas went completely still, as if someone had impaled him with a sharp instrument, while his breath solidified in his lungs. “No lie,” he whispered back.

      If it hadn’t been for her hair Nicholas wouldn’t have recognized the veterinarian. She may have been given a boy’s name, yet there was nothing boyish about her petite, compact curvy body.

      His gaze lingered on the toes of her shoes peeking out from under the hem of the gown that was a perfect match for her eyes before slowly inching up to the soft swell of breasts rising and falling above the revealing neckline. Staring at Peyton called to mind one of the dolls in Celia’s doll collection: perfectly coiffed golden hair, expertly applied makeup and drop-dead-gorgeous figure clothed in an exquisite evening gown.

      Nicholas had feigned a lack of interest whenever Sheldon invited him to eat with his family, where invariably he and Peyton would be seated together. He’d purposely ignored her whenever they occupied the same space because she had become a constant reminder of how much he’d missed female companionship. Peyton also reminded him of when he’d ignored his intuition and had formed a relationship with a woman who was the opposite of any with whom he’d become involved. He didn’t know how, but he always felt tension radiating off Peyton, wondering why she was so uptight.

      But he did get to see a very different Peyton at the restaurant. Nicholas wasn’t certain whether she’d bonded with Celia because both were doctors but she laughed easily, while exhibiting a wicked sense of humor. She appeared so much younger than twenty-seven, and with her petite frame he’d tried imagining her treating an animal as large as a horse.

      Twice within the space of a week she’d tried to talk to him. Well, he mused, tonight would be different. After all, he was the best man and she maid of honor and that meant they would be forced to interact with each other. His entrancement with Peyton ended when the guitarist played the opening strains of the “Wedding March.” As if on cue, everyone stood up.

      Nicholas had offered to walk Celia down the aisle, but she’d insisted that privilege belonged to their father. She’d also made him promise not to tell their parents she was marrying Gavin. He didn’t ask why but assumed Celia had a good reason for wanting to keep her marriage a secret.

      He smiled, lines fanning out around his eyes with his sister’s approach. Never had she looked more serene. He’d witnessed her joy during her medical-school graduation, but this was different. Celia had been given a second chance at love. She’d been seriously wounded, while her fiancé Dr. Yale Trevor-Jones was killed instantly during the E.R. shootout. Nicholas flew from Virginia