Eternally Yours (27 page)

Once she had gotten beyond the frenzy of the media’s headlines labeling her Syntel Remington’s love child, and their constant encampment on her doorstep and place of employment in their search for the entire story, she had discovered something. She and Syntel shared more than just physical resemblance. They were alike in quite a number of ways. They were both outspoken, neither believed in sugar-coating anything and they both didn’t mind standing up for what they believed in.

Somehow they had gotten close over the past few months, regretting but accepting Syntel’s father’s and Clara Boyd’s deceit. In the end, father and daughter had forged a strong bond between the two of them. Last month, as he’d done every year for the past fifteen years, Syntel had gone to visit her mother’s grave. But this time she had gone with him. Somehow she believed her mother was now truly resting in peace knowing father and daughter were finally united as she had wanted.

After the graveside visit, they had returned to the ranch and had been joined by Senator Lansing and Clayton. With the three of them there, Syntel had not indulged in his two-day drinking spree to drown out his pain. Instead, over iced tea, Syneda and Clayton had sat and listened to the two college friends share fond memories of the time they had spent with her mother, and how difficult it had been trying to keep Syntel and Janeda’s relationship a secret. Syntel even shared photographs with her that he and Janeda had taken together. Tears had formed in Syneda’s eyes when she had looked at the photos and had seen her parents, young and very much in love. She was thankful to Syntel for sharing that part of his and her mother’s past with her.

She had had something to share with him, too: a photo album her mother had kept during Syneda’s growing years. The very first picture in the album had been her newborn baby picture that had been taken in the hospital nursery. Following that picture had been others that Syneda had taken each year for the first ten years. Some of them had been pictures she had taken alone. Others were those that she and her mother had taken together. The rest of the pictures in the album had been those she had taken during her junior and senior high school years while living with Mama Nora and Papa Paul. All the pictures had provided Syntel with a pictorial journal of her life; a life he’d been unable to share with her. Their sharing of the photographs had been a special time for them, and had somehow strengthened the bond between them.

“Nervous?”

Syntel’s question brought Syneda’s thoughts back to the present. She looked up at him, nodding her head. “A little. What about you?”

He smiled. “I’m nervous a little, too.” He released a deep sigh before saying, “It seems so unfair.”

Syneda raised an arched brow. “What does?”

Syntel took her hand in his, to take his place at her side. “I just found my daughter. It’s a pity that already I have to give her away,” he said in an oddly hoarse voice.

Syneda looked at him and saw the sadness openly displayed in his eyes. “Be happy for me, Daddy,” she said, surprising him by calling him that for the very first time. Up to now she had always referred to him as Syntel.

“I’m marrying a good man. I think he’s the best. And don’t ever worry about you and me. Now that you’re in my life, you’re here to stay. Count on it.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for loving my mother. I know she was only able to make it through all those years without you because she knew she had found true love once in her life. And I know each and every time she looked at me, she must have seen you. That’s why she often called me her most precious gift. I was a gift of life she’d received from the man she loved.”

Syntel’s eyes were misty when he hugged his daughter. “Thank you for telling me that and for believing it. I loved your mother deeply, and I love you. I’m honored to be your father.”

“I love you, too, and I’m honored to be your daughter.”

Clayton stood next to his father, who was his best man, and watched Jordan, who looked so beautiful dressed in a peach floor-length gown, walk carefully down the aisle, tossing rose petals on the red carpet.

Next came two-year-old Justina. She began tossing rose petals from her basket just like the nice lady had told her to do. She was doing a pretty good job at it until she saw her daddy standing at the altar.

“Daddy!” She tossed the basket down as if saying, “later for this,” and ran happily down the aisle to her father.

Justin scooped his daughter up in his arms, shaking his head. He looked over at Lorren who was grinning from ear to ear.

Next came the ring bearer, the four-year-old son of their cousin Felicia. He was followed by Vincent, Justin and Lorren’s eight-year-old son, who entered and gave a loud blast from a golden horn. He then proclaimed in a loud voice, “The bride is coming! The bride is coming!”

The sanctuary got quiet. And then the organ began playing the bridal march. In awe, the wedding guests stood on their feet and watched Syneda and her father begin their walk down the long aisle.

A knot caught in Clayton’s throat. He had never seen a more beautiful bride. She looked absolutely radiant. Her bridal gown was a soft white satin with a crystal pleated portrait neckline. That neckline gently curved around her shoulders to a cluster of dropped authentic pearls and sequin trim. A lace-trimmed train with embroidered appliques added the finishing touch to the gown. A romantic floral hat that was lavished with fabric flowers, authentic pearls, net pouf and a fingertip-length veil adorned her head.

Both pride and love burst within Clayton. The woman coming to him was everything he could possibly ever want in a woman. They were still both strongly opinionated and at times argumentative, but now they would have a different way of settling their disputes—he smiled—namely in the bedroom.

As he continued to watch her, the sermon Reverend Moss had preached on his grandmother’s birthday suddenly came back to him.
“When a man loves a woman he places her above all else, and she becomes the most important person in his life. She becomes his queen…”

“She’s my queen,” Clayton whispered in his heart.

The crowd watched as Syntel walked Syneda three-fourths of the way down the aisle. As planned, Clayton was coming the rest of the way for her.

The guests looked on, most of them with misty eyes and breathless anticipation, when Syneda turned and hugged her father. Then they watched as Clayton strode down the aisle toward them.

Upon reaching them he shook hands with Syntel and said, “I promise to take care of her, sir.”

Nodding, Syntel then relinquished his place at his daughter’s side.

Clayton stood before the woman who had consented to become his wife. She was the woman he loved. He took her hands in his, smiling. Unable to help himself, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips.

“Lordy, the boy wasn’t supposed to do that until after the ceremony.”

Clayton smiled when his grandmother’s words reached his ears. He then led Syneda to the altar, winking at his grandmother when he passed her sitting on the front pew. He could tell by her deep frown that she was not too happy with what he had done.

Upon reaching the others, he drew Syneda forward as they knelt in front of the altar. After Reverend Moss’s brief prayer, they once again stood on their feet. The minister began.

Syneda’s hand was held securely in Clayton’s. When Reverend Moss asked her to repeat her vows, she looked into Clayton’s eyes. “I, Syneda Tremain Walters, take this man, Clayton Jerome Madaris, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

She felt the heat of Clayton’s gaze on her as she continued, “…to love and to cherish, from this day forward, for better or for worse…”

Clayton was stunned by the intensity of the emotions he felt, hearing Syneda’s words. With iron-clad control he forced himself not to take her into his arms.

“Clayton,” Reverend Moss was saying to him. “Please repeat after me. I, Clayton Jerome Madaris, take this woman, Syneda Tremain Walters, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

Finally, after all the vows were said, and wedding rings exchanged, Clayton and Syneda turned to face each other and held hands while Whitney Houston came forward to sing the song Syneda had requested, “I Believe In You and Me.”

Syneda looked deeply into Clayton’s eyes while the words to the song floated around them, encompassing them in a mist of their love. Tears misted her eyes as she looked at him, remembering how his love had brought her through a difficult time, how he had refused to give up on her until she had sent him away, and how in the end she’d come to her senses and reclaimed his love. She knew the love she felt for him was unhidden and clearly visible for him to see.

Clayton held Syneda’s hand in his as the words of Whitney’s song touched him. For so long he had not believed in love. He had thought love was not for him. But the woman whose hands he now held in his had changed that. Now he believed in miracles.

After Whitney’s song ended, Reverend Moss said, “By the powers invested in me by this great state of Texas, I now pronounce you man and wife.” He smiled broadly. “You may kiss your bride, Clayton.”

Clayton was more than ready for this part. Lifting Syneda’s veil, he whispered, “I love you, Mrs. Madaris.” He then took Syneda in his arms and kissed her.

When the kiss seemed endless, Reverend Moss tapped Clayton on the back. “That’s enough, son.”

Clayton kept right on kissing Syneda.

Reverend Moss frowned. He again tapped Clayton on the back, a little more forceful this time. “You can finish that later, young man.”

Clayton released Syneda’s mouth. He smiled at the minister. “I kind of got carried away.”

Minister Moss frowned at him. “Apparently you did.”

Clayton grinned and then to everyone’s surprise and to his grandmother’s horror, he swung Syneda up in his arms, and after tossing her long, winding train across his shoulder, he carried her out of the church leaving a stunned wedding party behind to follow.

The grand ballroom of the Hilton Hotel was a spectacular sight. Syntel had gone beyond himself in hosting his daughter’s wedding reception.

After the traditional first dance of the bride and groom, Syneda danced first with her father, then with Senator Lansing, who had declared himself her godfather.

Clayton had approached his mother but she strongly suggested that he dance with his grandmother first. “She’s pretty upset with you, Clayton. If you ever want to taste her bread pudding again, I suggest you do something to rectify that situation.”

Being the smart man that he was, Clayton had immediately taken his mother’s suggestion. By the end of their dance his grandmother was all smiles again. But that was only after she had sweetly raked him over the coals.

Trevor Grant stood leaning a shoulder against the wall, holding a half-filled champagne glass in his hand. He smiled, happy for his friend.

His gaze swept over the ballroom. When it rested upon a particular young woman, it stopped. Corinthians Avery, who was head geologist for Remington Oil, was a beautiful woman. She was everything male fantasies were made of. He of all people should know. There wasn’t a single night he went to sleep without her invading his dreams.

As if sensing his gaze upon her, Corinthians’s head lifted, her gaze met his. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at him.

Trevor gave her his most charming smile then lifted the champagne glass in a silent toast to her. He knew she could tell that his gaze was moving down the full length of her, remembering a night when he’d seen her, wearing nearly nothing at all. It was a night he would never forget.

He smiled when she continued to meet his gaze head-on. He had to hand it to her, the woman was something else. He took a sip of champagne, and still her leveled gaze never flickered from his. He knew she was trying to look straight through him and deny his existence. But he was not about to let her do that. He blamed her for many of his sleepless nights, and one day soon, very soon, she would pay for it.

“How soon can we leave and go upstairs?” Clayton asked his wife as they moved slowly around on the dance floor.

Syneda lifted her head from his shoulder. “It won’t be too much longer. You wouldn’t leave before most of your guests, would you?”

“Watch me. Besides, they’ve been well fed, plied with good wine and champagne, entertained with good music and, thanks to your father, most of them have been given plush rooms to spend the night. What more could they ask for?”

Syneda smiled. “I’m so glad all of your friends made it. It was nice getting the chance to meet Alex’s brother, Trask Maxwell. He’s really nice.”

Clayton grinned. “But all of my friends are single. I hope each of them finds a woman to love and who’ll make them happy. Like you’ve done for me.” He leaned down and brushed a light kiss across her mouth.

“All right, you two,” the wedding coordinator said from behind Clayton. “It’s time for more pictures. Then, Syneda, you need to toss your bouquet and, Clayton, you need to take your wife’s garter off and toss it to one of those single, unattached, handsome friends of yours.”

He smiled. “It will be my pleasure.”

Moments later, Syneda was ready to toss her bouquet. All the single women were asked to go to one side of the room. Everyone laughed when Gramma Madaris marched over and pulled Felicia out of the group. Evidently she thought with two failed marriages to her credit, her wild and reckless granddaughter did not need a third.