“You look lovely,” she said, her voice raw and uneven. “Incredibly beautiful.”
“Thank you, Miss Bryn. You and my mother put this wedding together in shotgun fashion, and I can’t thank you enough.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said, taking Taylor’s hands in hers. “I had wondered, prayed, and worried over Chandler for so many years. He’s a remarkably empathetic human being, but there were times I wished he’d just go with his instincts instead of being so darned rational.”
A small laugh escaped Taylor’s mouth. “I know that feeling well. I love that part of him, too.”
“That’s why you are going to be such an amazing partner to him. You bring out the best in him, love his flaws, and show him the promise of unending love. I see Chandler duck his head and gaze into your eyes so lovingly, and it’s like looking into the past. Chase has always given me that same look, from the moment we fell in love.”
Please, Taylor thought, let my makeup be waterproof. “That means so much to me,” she replied with the tears evident in her voice. “I’m touched, and grateful to be a part of your family.”
“You’ll fit in very well with us,” Bryn assured her. “It takes a lot of grit and stubbornness to love a cowboy, and you’ve got both in spades.” She placed her lips to Taylor’s cheek. “That’s a compliment to your character.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
Bryn nodded. “I know your mother has been anxious to speak with you, and it’s nearly that time. See you soon.”
Taylor watched her go, still overwhelmed by Bryn’s admission. Alice was the next person to enter the room. “Mom, I…if Daddy couldn’t be here to walk me down the aisle, there’s no one else I’d rather have at my side.”
Alice gave her a light hug, mindful not to leave any makeup on her eggshell-colored dress. “You’ve never looked lovelier, sweetheart.” She linked arms with her daughter, readying her for the march down the aisle.
“I feel kind of bad about leaving you again,” she admitted. “I want you to come live with Chandler and me.”
“No,” Alice stated firmly. “I’m not so old that I don’t remember what it’s like to be a young bride, and all that entails. I doubt the two weeks you’ve spent under this roof have dampened any of your enthusiasm.”
Taylor blushed slightly at her mother’s candor, then laughed. “Point well taken.”
“I saw your fella before I came in here,” Alice said confidentially, “and he was looking mighty handsome. If you weren’t marrying him, I might throw my hat into the ring.”
“Mom,” Taylor replied in a teasing manner, “try to refrain from kissing him on the mouth.”
“No guarantees,” Alice rejoined, a joyful smile crinkling every line in her face.
***
The front of the house had been transformed into the perfect stage for a wedding. A final gasp of summer greeted the guests on a day where a few wispy clouds kept the sun in check. Bouquets of flowers were arranged on the porch, its posts wrapped with twisted greenery. Chandler walked up the aisle, a solitary figure in black cowboy boots. He stopped along the way and shook hands with a few people. The crowd had been kept purposefully small; he wanted today to be about him and Taylor, not a mound of invitations. He spoke briefly to the minister, whom he’d known since he was a child. In a lot of ways he still felt like a yearling, not a man getting ready to commit his heart for a lifetime. He recognized that feeling as the butterflies Chase had told him would be in his stomach that day.
The wedding march began, and all eyes were trained on the front door. Bree emerged first, the perfect flower girl, with stems and blossoms threaded carefully through the blonde ringlets of hair. She’d reached the age to not only understand the ceremony but also revel in it. She and Chandler exchanged a small wave as she dropped petals to the ground, her tiny blue eyes and lips bright and happy. Someday in the distant future, CJ was going to have to fight the boys off his front porch with a shotgun.
Little Chase and Max were next, twin ring-bearers walking side-by-side. Their personalities were slowly but surely bubbling to the surface. Little Chase slipped into his father’s stubborn, tenacious shoes easily, his chin lifted high and proud. Max was a little more unassuming in the way he carried himself, but a mischievous glint in his brown eyes told the world he knew just how smart and skilled he was. Chandler tried and failed to suppress a grin, though he was glad the boys were working in tandem rather than competing for attention. He shook their small hands as they arrived at his feet.
Mark and Christa were next, looking as happy as if they were the ones getting married. Matt was held securely in his father’s arms, wearing the world’s smallest penguin suit, a smile affixed to his lips as his father goosed him. Mark gave Chandler a sly wink, as if to say, “You’ve got this, man. No need to worry.” Chandler could see both the pride and tears leaking from his sister’s eyes, felt a stab of emotion as their gazes met. Her gentle pleas had kept him from leaving Wyoming, and now his dreams had come true. Either he owed her big-time, or they were even. In her own head, she held the latter position.
CJ and Alison came next, and they carried on their faces identical grins. Chandler wondered how they’d managed to synchronize their reactions; something they’d done for too many years to count. CJ lifted the tail of his jacket just long enough for Chandler to catch a glint of that damned gold buckle, and he had to stop himself from laughing his head off. Leave it to his big brother, cocky, confident, great friend and advice-giver, to add some levity to the proceedings. Alison, his friend, confidante, and business partner, who’d been so welcoming and friendly to Taylor once she’d been hired—he owed her a debt of gratitude, too, but knew she’d never try to collect on it.
Sam and Susan followed—if he’d never been as close to them as his siblings now were, he still thought of them as a second set of parents. He’d spent a lot of hours at their house, accepting their guidance and calm fortitude. If they owed his parents their entire relationship, then he in turn owed them for committing their lives to the Big I Ranch and giving him an incredible friend in Mark. With their families forever intertwined, they had more than graciously accepted his offer to be in the wedding party.
Chase and Bryn brought up the rear, their faces lined with years of love, happiness, and joy. Chandler was pretty sure they were both crying, but each tried to hide it in their own special way. Chase’s smile appeared to take up fully half of his weathered face, and his blue eyes shone through like a beacon. Bryn used the bouquet of lilies in her hand to cover the absent dabbing of her eyes, knowing that she wasn’t fooling anyone. He only hoped he’d be able to expend even a tenth of their unconditional love on his own wife and children. When he told people he’d never wanted for anything in life, he wasn’t talking about money or possessions. They took their final places on either side of him, the wedding party almost fully formed.
His breath caught in his throat when he saw her. Taylor looked better than any dream or vision, her rich brown hair framing her face, the strands slightly kinked but not curled. Alison had outdone herself this time. The makeup was muted and yet somehow highlighted Taylor’s green eyes, made even brighter against the verdant backdrop of the lawn. Alice escorted her easily for a woman of her age, and Chandler realized that she was in far better shape health-wise than he sometimes feared. He’d asked her to move in with them and she’d politely refused. His eyes lingered over the off-white color of Taylor’s dress, which he’d thought wasn’t nearly showy enough. The erotic way it curved over her hip, the sexy way it formed a V at her neck and trailed down to her breasts—oh, she knew exactly what she’d been doing when she bought this dress. Their gazes locked and her eyes widened. This was it—the beginning of the rest of their lives.
Taylor felt them proceed up the aisle in slow motion, and as Chandler took her hand, he knelt to place a kiss on her mother’s cheek. Alice took her seat and Taylor looked deep into his eyes. That piercing look, directed from the depths of his azure iri
ses, caused her stomach to leap into her throat before falling to her knees. How could this devastatingly handsome man love her, want to share the rest of his life with her? When he looked into her eyes, he must’ve seen something incredibly beautiful. She had no other explanation and didn’t care to think on it. If life had taught her anything, it was to take love and grab it with both hands. Her gaze slipped from his for a moment—there was nothing special about his tuxedo, but the way he wore the black fabric, the jacket flexing across his arms and shoulders, was a sight to behold. Their eyes met once more and he gave her that familiar, gentle smile. Her stomach did another flip-flop, and he instinctively gripped her hands in a show of courage. His strength travelled across the space between and invigorated her. With his support, she figured she could get though anything.
The minister began with two passages from the Bible: one handpicked by Chandler, and another that Taylor had remembered as her father’s favorite. It was a way to make him a part of the ceremony, of her special day, of her future. In his suit pocket, over his heart, Chandler stowed a picture of Riley. It was almost more than Taylor could bear, to remember the loss—her melancholy was tinged with happiness, knowing that Chandler never wanted her to let go of those memories. A tear leaked down her cheek as she considered Chandler’s affection for a child he’d never met.
A tear leaked down his cheek as he realized how lucky he was to be marrying such a beautiful woman. He listened closely to the minister, trying to absorb his words of wisdom, but his sole focus was on Taylor and her fragile good looks. He would do everything in his power, for the rest of his life, to make sure that she never knew a day of unhappiness or sorrow. They’d bolster each other during the hard times and celebrate during the good ones. He’d love her without abandon, and never forget to say those three little words. He would apologize when he was wrong, and beg her to stay under the covers just a little longer on rainy mornings. He repeated his vows with perfect elocution, amazed that his nervous cadence vanished long enough to speak the words. Taylor spoke her vows with the same perfection, though tears spilled from her eyes and collected on either side of her mouth. They exchanged their golden wedding bands and waited for the minister to make it official. Through it all, their gazes never wavered, two sets of eyes scarcely able to blink.
“Chandler, you may kiss your bride.”
He scooped both hands against the small of her back and pulled her to him, her fingers sliding along his neck in response. They were both sure they heard applause, or maybe that was just the rush of sounds forming in their minds. His kiss was both tender and torrid, and she was glad when he lingered there a second or two longer than expected. She could feel the smile formed on his lips as they parted and he kissed her fingertips. He was kind and sensitive, strong and steadfast, and he was all hers.
It was a while before they were able to catch their breaths and share a private moment. There were photos, cake, a lavish meal, more photos, and a lot of dancing. He pushed her slowly around the dance floor, holding her tight against his stomach. He couldn’t bring himself to even speak for the first few minutes—he simply admired her face, the delicate curve of her jaw, her ridiculously adorable nose.
“I noticed you dancing with my mother,” she teased. “I got kind of jealous.”
“Yeah?” he asked, grinning.
“Definitely.”
He gave a slight shrug. “She was giving me some helpful advice. Told me not to take any lip from you.” He chuckled. “Guess she didn’t realize how fond I am of your lips.” And, underscoring the point, his mouth rested atop hers. “That’s just a preview,” he said. “An appetizer.”
“I’ll look forward to the main course,” she answered dreamily to his resounding laugh.
He glanced around intermittently, finding nearly everyone paired off happily. CJ was trying to convince a skeptical, but still smiling Alison that his interpretation of a Texas two-step was the real deal, and Mark and Christa danced with their two boys in their arms. Little Chase and Bree made gleeful circles together. The day couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d scripted it in his own mind—or, better yet, painted it on canvas.
Guests were heading home by the time Bryn pulled her youngest son aside and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t come speak to you before the wedding,” she apologized.
He left a soft kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry, Mom. I understood. It was a pretty emotional day.”
“A good day,” she clarified. “I’ve never seen you happier. I know you’re going to stay that way, too.”
“At least I know you’re just over the next ridge if I ever need any advice.” He shot her a sly wink.
“I don’t think you’ll need me, but I’m glad of that, too. Just don’t try to change, son. She loves you exactly the way you are—generous, loving, and hardworking.” Her eyes welled up with tears once again and she started to head back to the table where Chase was seated with Sam and Susan. “Oh! One more thing.”
Chandler smiled enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “What’s that, Mom?”
“It doesn’t matter what you’re discussing—your wife is always right.”
Chandler watched her go and greet his father with a quick kiss as she took her place at his side. He laughed to himself and felt Taylor’s arms envelop him from behind. “You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” she declared when their eyes met.
He laughed again. “Mom just gave me the piece of advice that’s going to make our marriage last, sweetheart. Not that I have any doubts, of course. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
She hugged him a little tighter then. She didn’t plan to let go anytime in the near future.
***
He twined his fingers through hers and kissed the back of her hand. “Damn,” he whispered huskily, “you look great wearing nothing but my ring.” He rested atop her, perched on one elbow, and smiled like the blue-eyed rascal that he was. With her free hand, she traced the outline of his mouth.
“Damn,” she replied, arching her left eyebrow sexily. “You look good wearing nothing but…me.” Breathy laughter spilled out between them before it was interrupted by another wet kiss.
“Where are we?” she asked with casual disinterest.
“Does it matter?” he teased, his voice low and hoarse.
“Not really.” After the wedding they’d departed Wyoming by plane, landing several hours later at a private airstrip. He drove to their current location under cover of darkness. She’d quickly fallen asleep in the car and he’d all but carried her upstairs. In the light of day, she had heard the gentle chorus of seagulls and stepped onto a covered porch to be greeted by a blue expanse of ocean. She had watched the waves crash for a brief sliver of time, the sea air washing over her as she turned and headed back to the bed. They honeymoon had officially started then, building to a point where they were both well-sated and delirious. Afterward he told her they were somewhere along the Eastern seaboard, the Atlantic outside their windows, in a spot so secluded no one lived within a few miles in either direction.
“We could make love outdoors,” he reminded her now, “next to the sand and surf, and no one would ever know it.”
She kissed the corner of his mouth. “That sounds like a challenge.”
His blue eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. “Now when have I ever challenged you, ma’am?”
She rolled her eyes playfully. “Let me count the ways—swimming races, horseback competitions, orgasmic endurance—should I go on?”
“Touché, pretty lady,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Let’s review that last one.”
She studied his tanned face for a moment, still reveling in the fact that it was the same one she’d wake up to from now on. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “It’s the one I don’t mind losing.”
***
Chandler was pretty pleased with himself.
He was fairly certain they’d made a baby on their honeymoon, though t
hat didn’t stop them from practicing in the weeks following their return home. When they weren’t tangled together in bed, Chandler either painted or helped Mark prepare the ranch for winter. Taylor, meanwhile, continued to sell her husband’s art online or over the phone. Alison’s business flourished to the point she hired workers to maintain both the store and gallery while her in-laws settled into wedded bliss.
Taylor felt the change to her body immediately. Chandler couldn’t be expected to know as much, but went with her to each appointment and studied the monitor until he found what looked to be a new life growing in his wife’s womb. “Damn if I can see a baby,” he teased one day as they drove home. “It could be almost anything.”
“Trust me,” she replied. “He will soon be just as active as his father.”
His face warmed with emotion. “He?”
“Or she. It’s gotta be one or the other.” He’d laughed at that, wishing he could hold her close every hour of the day and feel all of the changes to come. There was a piece of him that didn’t want to share her with a baby, not this soon, but the rest of his mind had already contented to the idea of coming home to mother and child at the end of a hard day and changing the kid’s diapers. That was one subject where his knowledge was plentiful.
They shared the blessed news on Thanksgiving, and Chandler was immediately inundated with enough fatherly advice to fill an encyclopedia. He never slept more than a fraction of an inch from Taylor, but now his hand rested every night atop her stomach, steadfastly waiting for the first kick even though he knew feet had yet to form.
The news got even better around Christmas time, and they were the last to arrive at Chase and Bryn’s house that chilly December morning. They stood together out on the porch, Chandler’s hand on the doorknob. “I’m nervous,” Taylor said.
“Me too.”
She looked up at him with a hopeful expression. “Chandler?”
His smile could have melted a glacier. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Will we tell our children about Riley? Will they understand?”
The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) Page 34
