The Bride Says No (20 page)

But he did believe he was in danger of losing someone very important to him, and he was powerless to bring her back.

T
he sight of Blake and Aileen kissing had sent Tara’s mind into a frenzy. It had taken her hours to find sleep, and then it had been restless.

Everything was out of control.
Everything
.

But then she’d realized that she could use catching Blake with Aileen to her advantage.

She would tell Ruary what she’d witnessed. He would want to protect her in the way Blake had Aileen. Ruary would understand, at last, that she was free to give her heart to him. He could love her without fear of recriminations.

And if Mr. Blake Stephens kicked up a fuss, then Tara would tell the whole world she’d seen Aileen in his arms, and
all
would understand her position.

Because Ruary started his work early with the exercising of the horses, she’d slipped out of the house shortly after dawn, to find that Ruary was not scheduled to be at Annefield that morning. A well-placed question to the stable lad who was saddling Dirk had yielded the information that Mr. Jamerson would be working for Laird Breccan that morning. Breccan Campbell’s estate was over beyond Kenmore and was not a far ride.

She did not waste any time setting out. She wanted no questions or having someone like Angus catch her leaving and demanding she have a groomsman ride with her.

Laird Breccan was a distant cousin of the earl of Breadalbane. He was a tall, giant figure of a man and not well liked in the valley. Then again, few Campbells were. They had a bad history, and a canny Scot knew better than to trust one, perhaps Laird Breccan more so than the others. By nature, he was a lone wolf. He rarely participated in the local society and seemed intent on buying all the land he could, even if that meant taking advantage of others’ misfortunes.

Apparently he also planned on building a stable to rival those at Annefield.

Tara drew this conclusion as she trotted up to the new stone-and-timber structure on the laird’s estate. Laird Breccan was said to live in a modest home built in the last century and not improved upon since—but the stable was, even to Tara’s eye, a magnificent building.

The stalls were laid out in long rows. Paddocks marked off the property. The laird apparently had a good thirty horses. Tara knew how high Annefield’s expenses were, and she could not imagine how much the laird was spending to breed and maintain this many racing animals.

On the far side of the paddocks was a training field, where a group of riders exercised their mounts. Seeing Ruary’s horse shut in one of the stalls, Tara assumed he was over with the riders.

A stable lad saw her approach. He knew she was Quality and hurried forward with an awkward bow.

Tara suddenly felt nervous. Perhaps she was being too bold?

“Is Mr. Jamerson here?” Tara asked.

“Aye, my lady, he is,” the boy said.

“Tell him Lady Tara Davidson wishes to speak to him. It is imperative.”

The lad ran to do her bidding.

Tara helped herself down from Dirk’s back. She was curious about the stables, and, after tying her horse to a post, she couldn’t help but pry a bit. She stuck her head into one of the stalls, impressed how large it was.

Her investigation came to a quick end when she heard male voices and realized she was not alone. She crossed to Dirk in time for Laird Breccan himself to come around the far corner of the row of stalls across from her.

He was talking to a lad who was leading a sleek, well-bred Thoroughbred. Tara could recognize good horseflesh. Annefield didn’t have a horse like this one in the stables.

Trailing in Laird Breccan’s wake was a pack of the mangiest dogs Tara had ever seen. They were in all shapes and sizes, a striking contrast to Annefield’s hounds, bred for their uniformity and good looks. Seeing Tara, they came racing up to sniff her boots.

One hapless creature stood off to the side and howled Tara’s presence as if the laird could not see the visitor himself.

Tara sidled back. She didn’t mind dogs. Her cousin Sabrina had one, but these animals were rude with those noses. She pushed them away. They also weren’t obedient until Laird Breccan whistled. Then they all went running to his call, their tails wagging.

“Sit, you bastards,” Laird Breccan said. The dogs immediately went down on their haunches, tongues hanging out.

Noting Tara with a nod, Laird Breccan finished his instructions to the lad before giving him a leg up and sending him off to exercise with the others. He watched the rider a moment, then turned his full attention on Tara.

She held her head high, pretending it was not unusual for her to be there.

He approached.

“My lady,” the laird said in greeting, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

He had a deep voice. He was also, she was surprised to note, younger than she had assumed. Of course, she’d never paid very close attention in the past, and with his shaggy dark hair and unshaven jaw, she wasn’t about to pay mind to him now.

He wore work clothes, woolen tweeds locally sewn, and heavy boots that were good for marching through muck. He was brawny enough that he needn’t worry about padding or tailoring, although he would never be mistaken for a tulip of the
ton
or a Corinthian. Just the thought of him in a yellow waistcoat almost made Tara laugh.

“I have a request from Father for Mr. Jamerson,” she said in her imperial voice, the lie coming easily to her.

He laughed, the sound not pleasant. “Do you truly expect me to believe Tay sent his precious daughter, the one whose marriage portion will keep him gambling for life, on a mere errand? I’m no fool, lass. You’d be best to remember that.”

“I needn’t remember anything, Laird,” Tara answered, “since it is not you I’m here to see.”

He did not like her saucy response. Tara didn’t care.

“You’d best mind your tongue,” he murmured.

“Or the Campbells will be after me?” She laughed. “There is nothing you can do to me, Breccan Campbell, not if you want to give a pretense to being civilized.”

Anger lit his eyes, and she was surprised to note they were gray, icy gray like Loch Tay on a winter’s day. Well, she didn’t care if he felt insulted. She had matters other than humoring him on her mind.

And fortunately, Ruary came riding up on one of the exercise horses. He dismounted and said with some urgency, “My lady, what is it? Is there a problem at the stables?”

She hadn’t thought he would equate her presence with being a matter for alarm, although it did work to her advantage, so she used it. “Yes, Mr. Jamerson. We need you. Can you leave with me right now?”

Ruary looked to Laird Breccan. She couldn’t help but notice that Breccan was taller than Ruary by almost half a foot. “The lads are doing fine,” Ruary said. “May I leave?”

“Will you be back later?” the laird said, his words clipped. He was obviously not happy.

“If you wish, Laird.”

“I do. I expect all that I’m due for the money I’m paying you.”

“Are you not pleased with the results I have delivered, Laird?”

Instead of answering, Laird Breccan glanced at Tara before he cautioned Ruary, “Be careful of that one.”

Tara didn’t know whether to be offended or to laugh. She decided to ignore him. “Are you ready to leave, Mr. Jamerson?”

“Aye, my lady.” He helped her mount Dirk, then gathered his own horse. Within minutes they were on the road.

When they were out of sight of Campbell’s stables and alone on the road for Annefield, Ruary asked, “What is the problem? Why did you come fetch me?”

In answer, Tara rode off the road into the shelter of trees beside a racing stream. She slid off Dirk.

Ruary, too, dismounted. “What is it?” he asked again.

She answered him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him with all she was worth.

F
or a good long moment, Ruary was distracted by the kiss. Tara had that much power over him.

Tara Davidson was more than just a lovely woman. She was his first love, and she had returned for him. What man would not be flattered?

Since yesterday afternoon, memories of her kisses had threatened his sanity.

He wanted her; he didn’t trust her.

She’d almost ruined him once and had left without a backward glance. And now? She felt good in his arms.

Their kisses had always been deep and sweet. The driving force, the need to possess, beat in his loins.

Ruary didn’t know where he found the power to break free of her kiss.

“What is this about?” he managed to grind out, his voice harsh with his internal struggle.

“
Us,
” she said, her eyes shining with happiness. “I am not going to marry Mr. Stephens.”

Ruary took a step back, needing some distance from her warm, willing body so that he could think. “What do you mean?”

“I caught my sister in his arms.” She said this with the joy of a child sharing a successful prank.

But it didn’t make sense to Ruary. “Lady Aileen and your intended?”

Everyone in the valley liked and respected Lady Aileen. She had shown herself to be a good and caring woman—and few who had met her husband, an English officer, had admired him. When word had reached Scotland of his death, a few had predicted darkly that his own men must have shot him.

“I’m surprised,” Ruary said, his sense of honor offended. “Your intended has not wasted his time.”

“
Exactly
. I’m so upset,” she confessed, tears welling in her eyes. He instinctively reached out to comfort her.

She went to him willingly, wrapping her arms around his waist. She leaned her head against his chest. “I am thankful I have you.” She gave him a squeeze and said, “I will instruct Mr. Stephens to cry off. He will do as I wish, or I will tell all the world of what I saw.”

“Why would
you
not end the betrothal?”

Tara lifted her head to smile up at him. “Because it is better this way. People will think the worse of him and favor me. When we go to London and I introduce you, people will think well of you because you were my rescuer.”

“Go to London?” Ruary wasn’t certain he understood her meaning.

“Isn’t going to England something you always planned to do?” she asked.

“Aye, to work horses. But I’ve been to London a time or two, and I’m not fond of it. I’d probably be in Newmarket when the races are.”

“And I will be there with you,” she said eagerly. “I’ve thought this out. I have connections now, and your reputation is growing. We are no longer what we once were, too young to know of the world. People admire you, and I will see that all doors will be open to us. You will become famous. And I will be your happy wife.”

She made it sound simple.

It wasn’t.

“What of Jane?”

Tara shook her head. “Look at us. Look at how we are standing.” She leaned forward so that her breasts flattened against him. The tone of her voice warmed, silkened as she said, “Be honest, Ruary, you love me. And you are the only man I would sacrifice everything for. Haven’t I proven that? Would you be as happy with Jane?”

The devil himself could not be more persuasive.

Ruary was tempted to put his hands on her trim waist, to cover his lips and give in to the greedy hunger in his loins. She was an exciting woman. He could picture her in his bed, waking beside her every morning, seeing his bairn being held in her arms close to those luscious breasts she generously pressed into his chest—

God help him.
He couldn’t think.

“I want you, Ruary,” she whispered. “You are my man. Do you ken? You are
mine
.”

He wanted to be hers. He did.

So it took a strength he never knew he had to place his hands on her arms and push her away while he took a step back.

He needed the room to breathe and allow his brain a moment to think.

“You would blackmail your sister for what you want?” he asked.

Tara had been leaning toward him, held back by his hands. She had a dreamy expression on her face, and he knew she believed in the picture she’d been weaving for him . . . so his question startled her.

She frowned, annoyed. “Blackmail? That is an ugly word.”

“It is an ugly thing you want to do,” he said.

“How so?” she demanded, the spark of anger in her eye. Now she was the one to take a step back, shaking his hands off her arms.

“You plan to make your intended cry off, a dishonorable action if ever there is one. The world will frown on him.”

Her response was a shrug. “Is it better to say I caught him in my sister’s arms?”

“I know the ways of the gentry. They would turn a blind eye—”

“And you believe
I
should as well?”

“Most wives in your class do,” he said.

“Are you testing me? Are you wondering if my affections are true or not? Well, I’m
not
like most women, and I would think
you
would know that.”

Her temper was rising. Tara could be as sweet as honey, but she had a sting as well.

“I do, Tara. I know you very well, and what you are planning is not the action of the woman I know. Your sister would be destroyed if you tell people what you saw—”

“
What I saw is what happened
. I didn’t ask her to kiss Mr. Stephens—”

“She is
not
a light skirt, and well you know it.”

“You are defending her?” Tara said.

“Aye, I am. I like her. She’s a good woman. She has always been fair to me.”

“Yes, she is a good woman, unless she is left alone with another woman’s man—”

“Oh, please, Tara, you have no feeling for Stephens. You have been all over me since the day you arrived at Annefield.”

“I love you—,” she started, but Ruary would have none of it.

At last he had clarity. He understood. “You
don’t
love
me
.” Those words were surprisingly hard to say. They had been part of a fiction that he had wanted to believe and now realized was false.

Tara reacted as if he had physically assaulted her. “How can you say that? Look at what I’ve done to prove my love to you.”