A Christmas Wedding

Mike leaned forward, took a long swallow of his drink. “You’d be a fool to say no.”

Jesse stood, walked slowly to the front window that looked out over the Triple H. This ranch had been his home for the past thirty-three years. Truth be told, Desiree had been his home all these long years. He’d decided weeks ago that he needed to find a new home, when he’d finally figured out that he couldn’t be what Desiree wanted anymore.

He’d made his own plans, had expected to buy an acre or two of land somewhere and train his horses. He’d anticipated staying in Texas because he wanted to be close to his kids. But he’d never imagined an offer like this, had never dreamed of becoming a full partner in a ranch with the stature of Whistling Winds.

How could he have expected a relative stranger to make an offer like this when his own wife had never even considered offering him half as much? He turned, regarding Mike Jacoby through narrowed eyes.

He’d always respected him, had often been impressed with how he ran his ranch. “Still, we both know I’d be a fool to do anything right now.”

Mike smiled as he settled his hat back on his head. “You’re right. It’s a big day for you and Desiree.” He reached for the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket, pulling out a group of folded papers. “Here’s the contract I’ve had drawn up. Look it over, let your lawyer look at it, whatever. Make notes on what you want changed and we’ll negotiate.”

“Look, Mike, I really don’t think this is going to work.”

“Well, I do. So take your time, think it over. A lot of the stuff in there is negotiable.”

Jesse eyed the other man curiously. “What makes you so sure I’m going to go along with this? I am married to one of your biggest competitors, after all.”

Mike stared at him for a long time, all sense of levity gone from him. Finally, just when Jesse thought he wouldn’t answer, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded up newspaper. “This ran a few weeks ago in the Louisville Courier-Journal. It made me think that now might be the time to put my plans into action.” Dropping the newspaper article on the glass coffee table, he tapped a broad index finger on it a few times before rising to leave.

He stopped at the door. “If I’m wrong, then I apologize for bothering you. But the fact that you’ve listened this long makes me think I’m not wrong.” He paused, then with a heavy sigh said, “I’m not screwin’ with you, Jesse. Thirty-three percent of my ranch and the freedom to breed and train your horses any way you want. Give it some thought.”

Jesse watched him slip out the front door, and though he knew that he needed to get going, he picked up the article Jacoby had left. Even knowing that he wouldn’t like what it had to say couldn’t prevent him from skimming the words.

Desiree Hawthorne-Rainwater, sole owner of the Triple H Thoroughbred Ranch, has long been revered in horse-racing circles for her knowledge and dedication to producing some of the best racehorses in the country and perhaps the world. Hawthorne-Rainwater has often attributed her success to her husband and head trainer, Jesse Rainwater, who she claims is “The best Thoroughbred trainer working in the world today.” Yet, despite these claims, Hawthorne-Rainwater has recently, and discreetly, signed trainer Tom Bradford to replace Hawthorne as the Triple H’s head trainer as early as January.

Rainwater has been at the Triple H for thirty-three years, having been hired by horse-racing legend Big John Hawthorne to revolutionize the historic Thoroughbred ranch’s breeding and training programs. During his tenure, Rainwater has never had a year when one of the three-year-olds he’s trained failed to win at least one of the races in the Triple Crown of horseracing—the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness and the Belmont Stakes. Many years, including this past one, his horses have won two of the races.

But a source close to Hawthorne-Rainwater cites her frustration at never having won all three races in one year—and therefore capturing the much-sought-after Triple Crown—as the number-one reason she has chosen to replace her husband after so many years. “Desiree has spent an incredible amount of time, money and effort to make sure she has the best ranch in the business. Her husband’s failure to produce a horse capable of capturing the Triple Crown has become a frustration for her in recent years, one that she is no longer content to sit by and accept as inevitable. She believes Tom Bradford can bring the missing ingredient to the Triple H’s training program and hopefully guarantee the ranch its first Triple Crown winner in over forty years.”

Many in the horseracing community are surprised and unimpressed with Hawthorne-Rainwater’s choice. “Jesse is the best trainer I’ve ever seen,” says Baron Richardson, owner of the Bar L Thoroughbred Ranch of Louisville, Kentucky. “He has a natural affinity for horses that is rare, even in these circles. Tom Bradford is a good man and a great trainer, but he’s not in Rainwater’s class.”

Bradford, who is currently employed by the Bells-and-Whistles Ranch of Atlanta, has produced numerous award-winning racehorses in the course of his career, including Jacy’s Fancy, Hell’s Bells and Whistling Dixie. Whistling Dixie, who has won over thirty races in her career, is best known for winning the Belmont Stakes in 2001.

Rainwater, who has trained such impressive horses as Crown’s Majesty, Crown’s Rhapsody and Royal Jewel, has recently started his own stable of horses—Cherokee Dreaming—a venture that many believe is partially responsible for Hawthorne-Rainwater’s change of heart. The horses of Dreaming Cherokee—trained by Rainwater and his oldest son, Rio—have already made a strong impression in the

American horseracing community.

NOW, HOURS LATER THE agony still nearly brought him to his knees.

How could Desiree have done this to him? To them? How could she have gone behind his back and hired someone to replace him without even giving him a heads-up?

He shook his head. But then again, why was he surprised? Desiree had always run this ranch how she wanted and to hell with what he or anyone else had to say.

His hand clenched involuntarily, crumpling the paper into a ball before he could think better of it. Part of him wanted to keep the article so that he could hurl it at her later when the inevitable confrontation came. But that was a childish desire, one he knew he wouldn’t give in to—no matter how angry she made him.

Besides, what was the use? The damage was done, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive her her duplicity.

With a sigh Jesse tossed the crumpled article at the nearest trash can—one of at least forty Desiree had had placed around the grounds for the upcoming ceremony and reception. Though he wanted nothing more than to sit in his study and brood, there was work to be done. His time at the Triple H was clearly coming to an end, but for now the horses were still his responsibility. He wouldn’t let them down.

As he headed away from the house, he couldn’t stop himself from turning and staring up at their bedroom window. Had she signed the papers? What would he do if she refused?

What would he do if she didn’t?

CHAPTER TWO

DESIREE GAVE HERSELF A few more minutes to cry, but she was a Hawthorne through and through—her father had drilled the pride and responsibility of the name into her from an early age. In a little more than seven hours, three hundred people would be here, expecting the wedding of the year. She’d be damned if she’d greet them with puffy eyes.

She took a moment to get herself together. Though the wedding had been planned in meticulous detail—Willow really had missed her calling as an army general—there were a few small tasks that still needed to be done. She had to get out of this room, keep moving, hold things together for another twelve hours or so.

Climbing to her feet, she crossed the room, then threw open the balcony doors and let the cool air flow over her as she surveyed the ranch that had been in her family for generations. This land was hers—as far as the eye could see and beyond. Passed from her great-grandfather to her grandfather to her father to her. The first woman to inherit in four generations. Had she worked so hard to be worthy of the name that she’d neglected the only man she’d ever loved? Had she somehow let what she felt for the ranch negate what she felt for Jesse?

She pushed the questions to the back of her mind, knowing that she’d have to deal with them eventually. Just not today. She fought to focus on the details to be attended to instead of the headache behind her eyes. She still had to check on the caterer, talk with the florist, make sure the ballroom was in order for the reception. But first she needed to get a couple of things.

Something borrowed.

She crossed to her jewelry box, pulled out the string of pearls she’d worn to her own wedding, just as her mother had done before her. Willow, so enthralled with the past that she had made plans to wear them almost as soon as she’d told James yes, had picked her gown because it looked best with the necklace.

Desiree could only hope they would bring her daughter more luck then they’d obviously brought her. Slipping the pearls into her pocket, she made a wish for her daughter’s happiness. Wished that Willow would never feel the rage and fear that pounded through her mother at this very moment.

Something blue.

Turning slightly, she stared at the bookcase near the door that held the many volumes that chronicled her life. Big John had been a huge stickler for details and an even bigger one for recording history. From childhood he’d drilled into her the importance of her place on the ranch, and from there, her place in history. It had become second nature to spend a few minutes every couple of days recording the events of her daily life in all their glory and monotony.

She’d promised Willow that her something blue could be her first journal—the one that told the story of Jesse’s and her relationship. As a teenager Willow had pored over the book, and Desiree had known, even before Willow ever gave voice to it, that she’d wanted to be swept off her feet as her mother had been so many years before. It had finally happened—later than it had for Desiree—but Willow had gotten her heart’s desire.

Desiree steeled herself as she reached for the lapis-blue journal Jesse had given her years before, told herself it was just a book. Still, her hand shook as she grasped the journal, and though she was determined not to open it, in the end she couldn’t help herself.

She turned the cover with trembling hands, read the dedication Jesse had written on the inside of the front cover. But before she could work up the nerve to read the first entry, a knock sounded and her daughter’s voice carried through the heavy wood door.

“Mom?”

Desiree opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a low-pitched croak. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and tried again. “Come on in, honey.”

Willow entered, looking so beautiful it nearly broke her heart. She was still dressed in her robe, her hair and makeup not yet done for the wedding. But she was tall and elegant, her nails done to perfection and her brown eyes so full of hope.

Had Desiree looked like that once? Had the mere thought of Jesse brought a similar glow to her face? Of course it had—from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him until…

Until when? When had the glow faded? When had the small irritations of daily life worn away the joy and passion, the hope and anticipation, until all that was left was pain? And love—even as the glow of youth faded, her love for Jesse had endured. It had endured more than three decades, would have endured at least three more, if he hadn’t done this. If he hadn’t…

“Mom, are you okay?”

Desiree jerked. “I’m fine, baby.” She reached out a hand, ran it softly down Willow’s cheek. “Just thinking about how things are changing.”

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Desiree answered as Willow threw her arms around her. The fuzziness that had clutched at her since Jesse had tossed down the divorce papers finally cleared as the strain in her daughter’s voice registered.

Desiree pulled back, stared into her daughter’s eyes. “What’s going on, Will?”

“I’m just happy.” Willow raised an unsteady hand to wipe at her eyes, but her smile trembled at the corners.

Eyebrows lifted, Desiree stared at her youngest child. “That’s a pretty pathetic smile for someone who’s crying from joy.”

“Mama, don’t.” The request was almost a wail as Willow pulled away.

“Don’t be concerned when my only daughter comes in here looking devastated on what should be the happiest day of her life?” Desiree grasped Willow’s hands in her own.

“I’m scared,” Willow blurted. “I’m really scared.”

“Of course you are. That’s perfectly normal—”

“No, it’s not. Not like this.” She turned away abruptly, strode to the balcony and stared out at the ranch.

Desiree sighed, ran a hand through her own short, disheveled crop of hair as she searched for the right words. Yesterday they would have been right there, waiting for her to speak them. But today…today only emptiness remained.

“What if I’m making a mistake?” Willow’s voice was soft and trembly, so unlike her youngest child that Desiree had a moment of alarm.

“Do you think you are?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m here, talking to you.”

“Oh.” Desiree nodded. “I see.”

“What do you see? Tell me, Mama.” Willow’s movements were agitated. “I’m not like you—I’ve never been like you.”

Desiree snorted. “Of course you aren’t. Why should you be like anyone but yourself?

“Come sit with me, baby,” she murmured when her daughter didn’t answer, drawing Willow to the small love seat by the window. “Now what is this all about?”

Willow shrugged even as she buried her head against Desiree’s neck. “How did you know, so fast, that Daddy was the right one for you?”

Desiree stiffened, stifling her own pain. She wrapped her arms around her youngest child and rocked her slowly, as she had done when Willow was a child.

“I just did, sweetie. One look at him and my heart recognized him as mine.”

Willow shuddered. “It wasn’t like that for me with James. It was slow, unexpected. It crept up on me and then suddenly, one day…”

“You knew you loved him.”

“I guess.” Willow took a deep breath, pulled slowly away. “One day I woke up and realized that I should spend the rest of my life with James. He’s perfect for me—he calms me down, he listens to me, he—”

“Turns you on.”

“Mama!”

“Willow!” Desiree echoed her daughter’s shocked tone with some amusement. “Just because I’m almost fifty doesn’t mean I’m dead. And it’d be a really bad idea to marry a man you’re not attracted to.”

“I know that. It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“Shouldn’t I be one hundred percent sure? Shouldn’t I know, without a doubt, that this is what I want? You knew you wanted Daddy, you knew you could never be happy with anyone else. I just want that same kind of certainty.”

Desiree fought the little voice inside of her that wanted to yell, “And look where that’s gotten me!”

Biting back the bitter words, Desiree turned to stare directly into the troubled darkness of her daughter’s eyes. “Life isn’t always certain, Willow. You make the best decision for you based on what you think and feel at the time. You can’t tell the future and you can’t live your life second-guessing yourself.”

“But you—”

“Stop it.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended, and Willow jerked back in surprise. Desiree sighed, reached up to smooth her daughter’s hair. “You’re not me. You’re not living my life. It’s absurd to expect things to play out exactly the same way.”

“I just want to be as certain as you were, as certain as Daddy was.”

This time she couldn’t stop the harsh laugh from exploding out of her. “Your father was nowhere near as sure as I was. Not by a long shot.”

“What do you mean? Your journals—”

“My journals are written from my point of view. Not your dad’s.” She stood and walked out onto the balcony, watching as the florist’s van drove up and Maria, their longtime housekeeper, went out to greet it.

“Willow, your father was very unsure about marrying me. Between the age difference and the money difference and your grandfather, he was certain he was making a mistake.” She turned to look at her daughter’s shocked face and this time her smile was genuine. “He figured we wouldn’t last six months, thought I’d cave to my father’s demands and the whispers of people around us.”

Willow’s eyes were wide, shocked. “But he married you anyway? Why?”

Like Desiree hadn’t asked herself that question at least a thousand times in the past hour? How could she answer her daughter’s question when she didn’t have a clue herself? She debated her options. Finally, opting for the truth, she said, “I don’t know.”

“Mama—”

“What are you so afraid of?

“What if this is all just a huge mistake I’ll grow to regret? You and Dad—”

“What about your father and me?”

“You started out so happy, so in love. And then…” Willow’s voice trailed off uncomfortably.

Desiree grimaced. Had their problems in recent years really been so obvious? If Willow knew, did that mean that Rio and Dakota did as well? The thought flattened her, devastating her when she thought she couldn’t get any more distraught. She searched for something to say to reassure her daughter.

“Honey, no one knows the future. No one knows at the beginning of a marriage how or when the end will come. Through death fifty years later or divorce in five years, nothing is guaranteed.”

“That’s my point. Why should I take this risk when it could end badly?”

Desiree shook her head, astounded at how good her daughter was at complicating things. How could she have forgotten that sympathy and understanding never got her anywhere with Willow? Just as she’d forgotten that Willow was more than capable of calling the wedding off because of a few last minute doubts.

“What if it doesn’t?” She hadn’t forgotten how to snap her daughter out of a good old-fashioned pity party.

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Willow’s voice was incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve already told you everything I know about the subject. What else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say that I’m not making a mistake, that James is a great guy, that I love him and he loves me.”

“You already know all that, don’t you?”

“Yes, but what if that’s not enough?”

Willow’s words slammed through her like a freight train. When had life gotten so mixed up that love ceased to be enough?

Had it ever been enough? Or had she just been stupid to think that it was?

She stared at her daughter, the silence in the room thickening. When she finally spoke, her voice was harsher than she’d intended. “What do you want, Willow Rose? A money-back guarantee that nothing bad’s going to happen to you? An iron-clad agreement that this is going to work out exactly like you planned?”

“Mom—”

“Because life doesn’t work like that. Everything isn’t always right or wrong, black or white. Sometimes it’s shades of gray. Sometimes—” She broke off at Willow’s shocked expression, bit back the words that burned in her throat, in her gut. She crossed the room to rest her palm on her daughter’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay.” But the words were jerky and her daughter rigid beneath her hands.

“No, it’s not.” Her hand slipped down to Willow’s chin and she gently tipped her face up until they were eye-to-eye. “Do you love him?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Does James love you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to build a life with him?”

“Yes.”

“Have children with him?”

“Of course.” Willow’s eyes were huge, but the smile that trembled on her lips was suddenly real again.

“Grow old with him?”

“Eventually.”

“Then what else are you looking for, Willow?” Desiree smoothed a hand over her daughter’s long, black hair, stared into her heavily lashed, almond-shaped eyes. Jesse’s hair, Jesse’s eyes. Nausea churned, but she steadfastly beat it back.

“Today’s about a promise. Forget everything else. Forget the dresses, the people watching, all the planning. It’s all superfluous. Today is about a promise—the promise you’ll make to James and the one he’ll make to you.”

She stared out at the green and endless land she’d sacrificed everything for. “Have you ever broken a promise to James before?”

“Never.”

“Has he ever broken one to you?”

“Of course not.”

Desiree looked her daughter straight in the eye, even as anguish burned through her. “Then what else is there? If you trust him not to break his promises, if you know that you won’t break yours, what is there to be afraid of? Today he’ll promise to love and honor you forever and you’ll do the same for him.”

“Forever’s a long time, Mama.”

Desiree’s smile was bittersweet. “It’s only as long as you want it to be, baby. How long is that?”

Willow’s eyes grew soft and faraway, and Desiree could all but see the future in them. “An eternity, at least.” She smiled. “Thanks, Mama.”

Desiree winked. “Don’t mention it. What good would I be if my kids couldn’t ask for advice every now and again? Anything else?”

“No, I think you’ve covered it.” Willow rushed into her embrace, and Desiree savored the feel of her little girl in her arms, savored the rush of love and warmth.

A knock sounded at the door. “Willow?” called Anna softly. She was Willow’s oldest friend and her maid of honor. “Felipe is here to do your hair.”

“I’m coming,” Willow called, rushing toward the door. “Thanks, Mom.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Oh, hey, don’t forget the necklace and journal.” She gestured to the items on the dresser.

“I’ll get them later—I’m so scatterbrained today I’ll probably lose them if I take them now.”

“Have fun with the girls,” Desiree commented, smiling at Willow’s renewed enthusiasm. She kept smiling even as she remembered the promises Jesse had made to her through the years. Promises she’d counted on. Promises she’d never thought he’d break.

Her eyes fell, again, on the journal gleaming bright blue in the sunlight that poured through the open doors. She picked it up, to put it back on the shelf so it wouldn’t get misplaced. But her hands paged through it of their own volition, searching, seeking that first…

And then she found it. Her fingers reached out, traced the letters on the page and her heart broke at the love revealed in every word. She really was a bigger fool than she thought.

CHAPTER THREE

When I woke that morning, it seemed like any other morning on the ranch. It was spring, so the fields were alive with color, animal babies wandered the meadows and life was good. I was sixteen and it was hard to imagine life as anything but wonderful.

I was trained at an early age to believe that the Triple H was everything. It was worth any amount of money, any personal sacrifice, any human life. Preserving it was my father’s destiny, and through him, my destiny as well. I had believed this all sixteen years of my life—had eaten, breathed, dreamed the ranch as the only child of Big John was supposed to. I had never given that destiny much thought, though it was always there, somewhere, in the back of my mind.

At least it always had been, until that first Thursday in April.

I had been out riding, as I did every morning before school. It was early, maybe 6:00 a.m., but light had streaked the sky for nearly an hour. I reigned Jezebel in hard, both of us exhilarated from the high-spirited romp we had just finished around the outskirts of the ranch. She and I loved going there because it was different than the other parts of the Triple H—wilder, more natural, closer to the earth and to God.