The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) (29 page)

As the jet had gotten closer to landing, Nathan had become increasingly withdrawn, his gaze fixed on the blue sky outside the plane’s window. When he no longer responded, his friends had stopped the friendly ribbing that was meant to relax him while it kept Chloe in a ripple of laughter all during the flight southward. Once they touched down, Nathan had collected the sword and escorted the group to the waiting limo, his shoulders held rigid.

Now Chloe sat in the limousine beside a silent Nathan while Ben and Ed chatted in the seat perpendicular to them. Despite all the constraints she felt, she wanted to soothe his strain away. However, the best she could do was lay her hand over his, stilling his fingers from drumming on the leather of the seat. She couldn’t even say anything comforting to him since she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends.

So she intertwined her fingers with his and gave him her best smile of support when he glanced down at her for a moment. She was rewarded with a softening of the lines around his mouth. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it.

Chloe caught the quick look of concern Ed cast Nathan’s way. So she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the tightness in his jaw.

The limo swung past brick gates and wound through the military base. Chloe caught glimpses of people dressed in everything from full dress uniforms to various shades of camouflage. It struck her that Nathan had worn Marine Corps colors too, and she wondered if he was aware of it.

The limousine glided to a halt outside a large brick church with white trim. A clot of young men and women in dress uniforms walked through the church’s door, their posture impeccable. When Nathan swung the car door open, the soft, warm air felt like summer. Autumn had not yet arrived in North Carolina.

“The general picked his wedding date right. This is one of the three days the weather isn’t miserable here,” Ed said, as he exited out the other side.

Once again, Nathan offered Chloe his hand. This time, though, she had the sense that she was the one giving support, as his grip was firm to the point of near discomfort.

Ben came around the car. “We’ll go find our own seats,” he said. “You see if you can track down the general before the service begins.”

Nathan nodded as he hefted the sword case and led Chloe toward a side door of the chapel. “You’ve been here before,” she said.

“Every Sunday for all the years we were stationed here.”

She tried to think cool thoughts as she almost jogged to keep up with his long strides, but when he pulled open the door, she sighed in relief as a cloud of cool air billowed out. He towed her through another door into a small carpeted room. A tall silver-haired man in the dark-blue jacket and black belt of a Marine officer’s dress uniform stood with his back to them, his hat tucked under his arm. He was speaking with a short, wiry gray-haired man, also in uniform, who was facing them.

Nathan’s grip on her hand became crushing, but he wore a mask of polite indifference on his face. “Uncle Fred, it’s good to see you,” he said.

“Nathan, you son of a gun,” the shorter man said, a grin creasing his tanned skin. “Glad you could make it.”

The silver-haired man pivoted slowly, as though he wasn’t sure what he would find behind him. Chloe’s breath hitched as she saw his face. There was no question he was Nathan’s father. The resemblance was extraordinary, right down to the way the general’s hair waved away from his forehead.

“Dad, Uncle Fred,” Nathan said, “I’d like you to meet Chloe Russell.”

She had to tug her hand loose from his to hold it out. “General Trainor, it’s a pleasure,” she said.

The older man was wearing white gloves, and he quickly stripped his right one off before taking her hand in a dry, firm hold. “A delightful surprise to meet you,” he said, his deep voice carrying a noticeable southern drawl. He gave her a quick penetrating look before shifting his gaze back to his son.

Chloe felt invisible as the two men locked eyes. They were matched in height and breadth of shoulder. The father was only slightly thicker through the waist than his son.

The general held out his hand to Nathan. “Thank you for coming.”

For a moment, she was afraid Nathan would spurn his father’s handshake, but he briefly gripped the outstretched hand before holding up the leather case. “I thought you’d want this for the ceremony,” he said.

The general’s attention had clearly been on his son and not on the luggage he carried, because surprise flickered in his eyes. “You thought right,” he said, taking the case.

Nathan nodded. “Congratulations.”

Then he took Chloe’s hand and started toward the door. She wanted to scream in frustration. The two men hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words, and those had been stiff and formal. When Nathan suddenly halted, she happily came to a stop, hoping he would offer something more to his father. He didn’t turn but simply looked over his shoulder to say, “I’ll need the sword back after the wedding.”

She had partially swiveled so she could see the general’s face. A strange look crossed it—a mixture of shock and gladness.

Then Nathan was moving again, and she was being towed along with him. She threw an apologetic smile to Uncle Fred, who nodded back with a rueful look.

“You and your father look so much alike,” she whispered as they approached the double doors that led into the nave of the chapel.

“And there the resemblance ends,” he muttered, relinquishing her hand when a young Marine offered her his arm to escort her down the aisle.

“Bride or groom?” the young man asked, so he could seat them on the proper side of the church.

“Family on the groom’s side,” Chloe said.

“We’ll sit with Ben and Ed,” Nathan contradicted from just behind her. “They’re up near the front.”

Chloe glanced around as she paced up the aisle beside her escort. When Nathan had mentioned a chapel, she’d expected something small and intimate. This was a huge open space of white walls lit by arched stained-glass windows under a ceiling supported by heavy, dark trusses. Row upon row of straight wooden pews marched down the nave in a neat military progression. She wasn’t sure how big a battalion was, but she imagined you could fit one in the church.

As they got closer to the altar, the pews were filled from the aisle to their midpoints. She spotted Ben and Ed three rows from the front and steered her escort toward them. Nathan gestured her aside so he could slide in first, giving her the aisle view.

Ed and Nathan exchanged murmurs, neither of them looking happy, and she suspected Ed was trying to persuade Nathan to sit in the front pew. On the bride’s side there were several family members, but the groom’s family pew held only one older couple and a single man.

Nathan must have followed her gaze because he said, “Those are my other two uncles and my aunt-in-law.”

Chloe hesitated, but the pew looked so empty. She’d persuaded Nathan to bring the sword. She should at least attempt to push him another step toward reconciliation with his father. “I think we should sit up there. Otherwise the bride’s side wins.”

He looked down at her with an odd glint in his eye. “You’re being Machiavellian again.” He turned and said something to Ed before taking her hand. “You’ve played on my competitive nature.”

She gave him a dazzling smile as they stood and walked to their new seats. This time Nathan sat between her and his relatives, creating a barrier to conversation. He nodded to his uncles and aunt but didn’t offer to introduce her.

“You’re being rude,” she whispered.

“I’m keeping you out of trouble.”

“Trouble for me or for you?”

“Both.” He laced his fingers with hers and stared straight ahead. She felt his nerves in the sporadic press of his fingers and saw it in the tiny tic of a muscle in his jaw.

“At least we have a chance against the bride’s side now. There are only eight of them. And they’re all short,” she whispered.

His grip on her hand eased, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

The brash, festive notes of a trumpet rang through the church, making her start. A door near the altar opened to allow General Trainor and Uncle Fred to walk through it with the measured pace of soldiers on parade. They took their positions and stood ramrod straight and unsmiling.

The trumpet was joined by the organ in the “Trumpet Voluntary.” Chloe twisted in her seat to see a young man and woman, in uniforms from two different services, pace up the aisle in that same controlled stride.

“My cousins Emily and Christopher,” Nathan murmured. “Navy and Air Force.”

Behind them came one woman, dressed in a simple sheath of peach satin, holding a bouquet of cream roses.

“Angel’s sister, Sarita.” Nathan’s voice went tight.

As Sarita reached the front of the church, the music changed to the “Wedding March,” and the congregation stood. A small woman wearing a short, floating cream chiffon dress started down the aisle. Her bouquet held peach roses, and the same flowers were woven into the dark-brown braid circling her head like a coronet. As she came closer, a waft of air-conditioning flattened the chiffon against the bride’s stomach, and Chloe could see the telltale swell of pregnancy.

She turned forward as the bride passed and caught an expression of such heartbreaking joy and uncertainty on the groom’s face that tears pricked at her eyes.

“Your father loves her,” she whispered.

He glanced down at her. “He loved my mother. He loved me. It made no difference in how he treated us.”

Chloe sucked in a breath as the truth hit her. Nathan disliked Angel because his father treated her differently—better—than he had his first wife. He didn’t want his father to be kinder and more considerate of his second wife. It would make his mother seem less worthy somehow. She could understand and even sympathize with his feelings, but they would separate him from the father whose approval he still sought.

She tucked her hand into the crook of Nathan’s elbow, hoping she could pull some of the tension from him.

The minister motioned them to sit, and the ceremony proceeded. When Nathan’s father kissed his new wife, he did so with a tenderness and passion that brought forth a soft, collective sigh from the female wedding guests.

“We ask the congregation to precede the bride and groom from the church for the traditional arch of sabers,” the minister announced before he gave the blessing and the organ and trumpet once again swelled into triumphant sound.

Chloe was excited about seeing the famous crossed swords. As the family followed the three wedding attendants down the aisle, she noticed the curious gazes aimed at Nathan and her. People at the base were interested in the famous prodigal son.

They came out the doors to find four Marines indicating where guests should stand on either side of the walk leading from the church. The southern sun shed enough heat to make it uncomfortably warm, but the bulk of the guests were military and stood straight and tall in their dark jackets with their white hats on. As soon as the last guest exited, Chloe heard a barked command from inside. Into the light marched a Marine with two lines of four of his fellow soldiers following him in perfect unison. They proceeded between the two walls of guests until their leader snapped another command. The two lines halted, pivoted, and drew their swords as one, holding the sabers point down until two more Marines reopened the church doors.

The bride and groom emerged and stopped as the honor guard’s commander brought his troops to attention, their swords held upright against their shoulders.

“Present swords,” he ordered.

The sword tips crossed, forming the arch. General Trainor and Angel trod solemnly through the arch. As they passed, each pair of Marines lowered their swords back to their sides until the couple reached the final two. Those brought their sabers down in front of the wedding couple, forcing them to a halt. The honor guard’s commander lowered his voice to say, “You must kiss the bride to pass.”

“By whose orders?” the general snapped back.

“Cupid’s, sir,” the commander said, breaking into a grin.

“Never heard of him,” the general said. “Must be some rock from Washington.” Everyone except the honor guard laughed. They were still standing stiffly at attention. “Well, at least it’s an order that won’t get me in trouble.” He bent and kissed Angel softly on the lips.

The obstructing swords were lifted, and the guests applauded as the general and his bride slid into a waiting limousine. The sword bearers returned their weapons to their scabbards with a snick of metal, and the crowd dispersed to their cars.

Chloe had been so caught up in the beauty and precision of the ceremony that she hadn’t noticed the perspiration trickling down her spine. As Nathan drew her toward their limo where it waited just across the road, she grimaced at the dampness. “That’s an impressive way to make an exit,” she said.

“The Marines are good at pomp and circumstance,” Nathan said in a tone that indicated he wasn’t impressed at all.

Ed and Ben caught up with them.

“Why couldn’t they do that indoors?” Ben complained, blotting his forehead with his coat sleeve.

“Marines don’t feel heat or cold,” Nathan said with that same edge.

“The hell they don’t,” Ed said. “They’re just tougher than a little weather.”

“I thought it was magnificent,” Chloe said.

“They know how to put on a show,” Ben agreed, standing aside as Nathan handed Chloe into the backseat.

She slid gratefully onto the cool, smooth leather. The driver had placed glasses of iced water with lemon slices in the cup holders. Chloe snatched one up, drinking down half of it in one long, deliciously chilled gulp.

Ben dropped onto his seat and grabbed another glass. “What I wouldn’t give to just pour this over my head,” he said.

“The officers’ club is air-conditioned,” Nathan said as he folded himself in beside Chloe. He surprised her by taking her hand. She scooted closer to him since he seemed to want her physical presence.

After a short drive, the limousine drew up in front of another white-trimmed brick building. This one had two long, covered porticoes leading to the doors. Once again, they followed a crowd of uniformed guests into the club, where air-conditioning welcomed them. They passed walls covered with the Marine insignia and arrived in a large room with deep blue patterned carpeting, brass chandeliers, and white linen–covered tables set around a parquet dance floor. Classical music played softly as the bride and groom stood near the door greeting their guests.