Breakaway (19 page)

Celia’s heart swelled with a love she hadn’t thought possible. Her free arm went around her husband’s neck, holding on to him as if he were her lifeline. “Hush,
m’ijo.
We can honeymoon when we get back to North Carolina.”

Gavin pressed a kiss under her ear. “You don’t want to go to the Greek Isles or the French Riviera?”

“It doesn’t matter where we go as long as we do it together.”

“Nicholas told me you’re a workaholic, so if we make plans to go away I don’t want drama, Celia.”

“You won’t get drama.” She touched her flute to his before taking a sip of the premium vintage.

Gavin stared at her fresh-scrubbed face. He still hadn’t processed that Celia was legally his wife. This time there would be no pretense, no need to lie and lie again to cover the previous lie.

What had surprised him was Nicholas’s disclosure that he suspected his brother-in-law was a federal agent.
Langley
and
Quantico
were buzzwords for the CIA and FBI. Gavin knew whoever Nicholas’s relative contacted at Quantico probably told him of his inability to disclose any information on Gavin Faulkner, leaving the other to draw his own conclusion.

Peering at his wife over the rim of the flute, Gavin drained the glass. He eased the stem of Celia’s glass from her loose grip, placed it on the sideboard, then swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.

The lay together, talking quietly while planning their future. By the time the last pillar sputtered before burning out, they had fallen asleep.

“C
elia, baby, we’re leaving.”

Celia dropped a kiss on the top of Terry’s head, then placed him in his crate and secured the latch. “I’m coming,”

Gavin walked into the bedroom. Terry was whining and jumping up, trying to get out of the crate. “Why don’t you let him hang out with the other dogs down at the stables?”

Her gaze swept over Gavin. They were going to Blackstone Farms and he’d chosen to wear a white shirt, black slacks and slip-ons. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

Extending his hand, Gavin helped her stand. “He plays with them all day. Of course he’s going to be all right.” Celia still refused to go anywhere near the stables or close to where the horses were exercised or grazed.

“Okay, you can take him. I’ll wait for you on the porch.”

Celia walked over to the dressing area and picked up a small purse with a shoulder strap, looping it over her body. The light from a table lamp glinted off the band on her left hand. Although she no longer had to lie and pretend Gavin was her husband, she wanted to tell her parents of the change in her marital status—not by phone but in person.

Even if she’d wanted to return to Florida, she knew it was better to remain out of the state until the police solved Alton Fitch’s disappearance. It had been more than a week since the prosecutor had gone missing and so far the family hadn’t heard a word from the kidnappers other than they were willing to return the D.A. alive if the family paid a ransom. There were news reports that the amount of the ransom still hadn’t been set, and the longer he was missing, the odds were against him being found alive.

The heels of her stilettos were muffled in the rug as she walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the staircase. All of the employees at Cole-Thom were invited to the Blackstone get-together. The exception was security personnel who were scheduled to work that night.

Nicholas turned his head so Celia couldn’t see his grin. It’d been a long time since he’d seen her bare so much skin. A black off-the-shoulder dress, ending at her knees, fit her body like second skin, while a pair of black stilettos put her close to six feet. One thing he always liked about his sister was that she was very secure about her height.

“We’re going to pick up Gavin at the stables.” He opened the door and led Celia out into the warm air. It was dusk, his favorite time of the day.

Celia looped her arm over the sleeve of Nicholas’s raw silk black shirt. “You look very dangerous dressed all in black.”

Nicholas wiggled his eyebrows. “I feel dangerous tonight.”

“Dangerous or reckless?”

“Both.”

“Watch out, ladies. Nicholas is on the prowl tonight.”

“My male employees like interacting with Blackstone Farms because they say the women over there are much prettier than the ones here.”

“I hope they’re not talking about their wives.”

Nicholas laughed. “If they are, then they’re in for a world of hurt. I’ve witnessed a few marital spats, and they weren’t nice. The difference between this farm and Blackstone is that we don’t have small children. Of course, their farm is a lot bigger than this one.”

“How big?” Celia asked, once she was seated in the Lincoln.

“Blackstone Farms is about ten thousand acres. They operate like a small town. They have a church, and a couple of years ago they chartered their own school. So, the kids never have to leave the farm to attend classes.”

“I suppose they never have to close the school because of snow.”

“You’re right about that. Last year we had record cold and snowfall totals.”

Nicholas drove away from the house along a road leading to the stables. Streetlamps were coming on, lighting up the area as if it were daytime. He tapped the horn lightly, garnering Gavin’s attention. Slowing, he waited for his brother-in-law to get into the rear of the
sedan before driving in a westerly direction toward Blackstone Farms.

“You have to come and visit during the fall. Halloween is really special around here. We have hayrides and bonfires and the little kids are allowed to stay up until midnight. Sheldon hosted Halloween last year and it’s my turn this year.”

Celia stared at her brother’s profile. She’d found it uncanny how much he resembled their paternal grandmother, Nancy Cole-Thomas. Then there were those in the family who claimed Celia had inherited her grandmother’s candor. If it came up, then it would come out.

“What about the older kids?” she asked.

“Believe it or not, they seldom leave the farm. Everything they’d want is there. Those who attend schools away from the property form friendships with other kids, most of whom wish they could live on a working horse farm.”

“What about dating?”

“I haven’t lived here long enough to know those statistics, but I do know that Jeremy and Tricia Blackstone grew up together and eventually married. You’ll probably get a chance to see their triplet daughters tonight.”

Celia wanted to ask Nicholas about Peyton Blackstone. She’d noticed them talking and dancing during the reception. When she and Peyton had gone shopping for gowns, Celia saw another side of the quixotic veterinarian who’d grown up with an overbearing, alcoholic father who never let her forget he’d wanted a son. It wasn’t until she was an adolescent and she’d searched the Internet that she’d discovered another branch of the Blackstone family tree. Acting on impulse, she’d e-mailed Sheldon Blackstone at the farm who’d been able to confirm they were cousins and therefore related.

Peyton had convinced her father to let her spend her summers at Blackstone Farms, and it was Sheldon who underwrote the cost of her college education once she’d expressed interest in veterinary medicine. It wasn’t what Peyton said but what she hadn’t said about growing up in a home with a mother who was too frightened to defend herself or protect her daughter during her husband’s alcohol-induced tantrums that led Celia to believe that not only had Peyton been verbally abused as a child, but physically abused, as well.

She’d discovered the vet had a wicked sense of humor that had kept her laughing when they’d had dinner at a restaurant frequented by college students. Some of the young men tried hitting on the attractive natural blonde, but Peyton easily parried their advances with a look that scared off the most persistent admirer.

All thoughts of Peyton fled when Nicholas stopped at a pair of electronic iron gates emblazoned with a bold letter
B.
Leaning out the driver’s side window, Nicholas stared into a camera and gave his name. Within seconds, the gates opened and closed behind them as he drove through. There was still enough daylight for Celia to see white rail fences, stone walls and verdant landscaped grassland.

The road diverged into four directions, but Nicholas followed the sign pointing the way to the main house. A towering flagpole with an American flag flying atop a black-and-red one lifted in the slight breeze. Teenage boys were doing double-duty directing traffic and parking the many vehicles in an area set aside for parking.

Celia had been introduced to the Blackstone men and their wives the day before, but hadn’t had an opportunity
to talk with them other than to accept their warm wishes for a long and happy married life. She remembered Sheldon Blackstone because he’d passed his incredible good looks on to his sons Ryan and Jeremy. Tall and solidly built with salt-and-pepper wavy hair, high, slanting cheekbones, an aquiline nose and light gray eyes, the middle-aged Blackstone patriarch had married a woman twenty years his junior and had become a father for the third time. There had been the titillating news circulating throughout Virginia’s horse country that Sheldon’s daughter was younger than her nieces and nephews.

Gavin alighted from the rear of the car to assist Celia as she placed one foot on the ground, then the other as he pulled her gently to stand. He would be the first to admit that Celia was stunning in the revealing dress, but he also didn’t want to deal with other men lusting after his wife. The day before she appeared the vestal virgin in white and now, twenty-four-hours later she’d morphed into a vamp in black, and a mass of curls had replaced the sophisticated chignon.

Taking her hand, Gavin tucked it into the bend of his elbow, following Nicholas and a swelling crowd over to large tents with dozens of tables that were covered with white linen. Folding chairs, swathed in white organza, were tied with either black or red satin ribbon, representing the farm’s silks.

The Blackstones, resident veterinarian Dr. Ryan Blackstone and his wife Kelly, who had set up the farm school, were on hand to greet their guests.

Jeremy Blackstone, who’d taken over the daily operation of the vast horse farm, stood with his arm around his wife Tricia while two identical little girls clung to
the legs of their parents. All of the Blackstone grandchildren had varying shades of gray eye color.

Peyton stood in the receiving line, holding the third Blackstone triplet. She was resplendent in a one-shoulder black dress that ended inches above her knees. Four-inch pumps added height to her diminutive frame, and also called attention to her legs. She pulled her hair back and tied it with a black ribbon. Celia watched Nicholas as his gaze traveled from Peyton’s face to down her compact body before reversing itself. He reached for her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckle before moving on.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” Gavin whispered in Celia’s ear.

“Do you think he likes her?” she whispered, ignoring his warning.

“Leave it alone,” he warned again. Celia narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Glare at me all you want, I’m not going to gossip about your brother.”

“I’m not gossiping, darling.”

“Yes, you are, Celia. We’re leaving here tomorrow and Nicholas and Peyton know where to find each other.”

Gavin’s cryptic rejoinder spoke volumes. Men talk just like women talk and Celia was willing to bet Nicholas’s indifference to the pretty veterinarian was a defensive ploy not to get involved with the owner of the neighboring farm’s cousin.

When Peyton had tearfully revealed bits and pieces of her childhood, it served to reinforce Celia’s attitude that she had truly grown up blessed. It wasn’t her family’s money that had set her apart from some of the other girls with whom she’d gone to college and worked, but it was the sense of family first.

Any Cole, whether legitimate, illegitimate or adopted
garnered full family backing. If you hurt one Cole, then look for the wrath from the others to descend upon the hapless perpetrator. Whenever she argued with Yale, Celia never involved her family—especially her brothers, who were looking for any excuse to “jack” him up. Trust funds aside, the men were one rung above thug status.

Celia exchanged air kisses with Peyton. “You look incredible, girlfriend.”

Peyton blushed. “Thank you. So do you for a newly married woman.” She leaned closer. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for asking me to be your bridal attendant.”

Celia winked at her. “Are you practicing?” She pointed to the toddler who was an exact copy of her sisters.

“No. It’s going to be a while before I think of becoming a mother. This little muffin will hang with me until the music begins. Then she’s going to bed. Maybe we can get together later and talk.”

A moment later, Gavin greeted Peyton. Then he pulled Celia gently over to a table and seated her. He leaned over her head. “Are you satisfied, Mrs. Faulkner?”

She smiled over her shoulder at him. “Totally.” Celia pressed a hand to her throat. “Could you please get me some water?”

“Do you want anything else?”

“No, just the water, thank you,” she said.

Celia watched Gavin walk, her gaze lingering on his retreating figure. They’d slept in late, waking at noon. They shared a shower for the first time, stopping short of making love. Whereas other women had their menses from three to five days, hers lingered for eight. The delay in consummating their marriage only served to
heighten the anticipation of making love to her husband for the first time. She and Gavin had decided to forego Saturday’s gathering at Harridans Farms and return to North Carolina.

Once the partying began in earnest, Celia realized her wedding reception had served as the kickoff at Blackstone Farms that had become the New Year’s Eve, the Super Bowl, Kentucky Derby and the Fourth of July rolled into a massive tailgate party. She ate, danced and drank much too much. The hands on the clock inched past midnight, the unofficial time for the celebrating to end, but no one headed to the parking area to retrieve their vehicle.

Celia sat barefoot on the grass, sprawled between Gavin’s outstretched legs. “I think you’re going to have to be the designated driver tonight.”

Gavin nodded in agreement. “I believe you’re right. Nicholas appears to be a little unsteady on his feet.”

“Nicky’s not much of a drinker.”

“Neither is his sister,” Gavin countered.

“There are a few teetotalers in the family, not because they’re in recovery, but because they can’t tolerate alcohol.”

“Four is my limit.”

Celia smiled at Gavin over her shoulder. “I’ve never been able to finish two before I fall asleep.”

“You’re a pervert’s fantasy. Get the girl drunk and take advantage of her.”

“That’s not nice,
m’ijo.
”

“It is what it is, Celia. I’ve known guys who’d deliberately get a woman drunk just to have sex with her, because under normal circumstances she wouldn’t think of sleeping with him.”

“I know, because I’ve treated enough rape victims who come into the E.R. for an AIDS test. It’s only after I have a consult with them that they admit to being date-raped. Some of them refuse to name their attacker, but after the urging from a female social worker or rape victim advocate, they give up the name. That’s when the police get involved and with DNA as evidence, the piece of garbage is charged with rape.”

Gavin buried his face in her hair. “What’s the most bizarre situation you’ve ever encountered?”

“There are too many to count, but the ones that stand out are when patients are brought in with foreign objects lodged in the most unlikely orifices.”