The Bride Says No
Page 4
“What brings you here?” Ruary was saying.
“I thought to surprise you,” Miss Sawyer said happily. Her tone warmed as she said, “You have been so busy of late, and I have missed seeing you.”
A sudden, primitive, protective urge rushed through Tara. Miss Sawyer wanted Ruary. It might not have been clear to him, but Tara recognized a rival when she saw one.
And she was not going to let another woman moon over the man she loved. She had gone through too much to return to Annefield.
Tara marched to the grain room door and stepped out into the light, right between the two of them.
At her appearance, a dull red came to Ruary’s face. Miss Sawyer blinked in incomprehension at Tara’s sudden appearance. But she was not a stupid woman. Her gaze went from Tara to Ruary and then to the darkness of the grain room.
Angus was off to the side, shuffling gear around in a tack box. He straightened. “Why, Lady Tara, we did not know you’d returned from England. There has been no announcement.”
“I arrived in the past hour, Angus,” she said in her best lady-of-the-manor voice. “It is good to see you again.”
He pulled his forelock. “We are happy you are home, my lady. Very happy, yes, we are. Do you plan to ride?”
“Perhaps. I was hoping Mr. Jamerson could help choose a mount for me.” As Tara spoke, she took a step closer to Ruary, staking her claim. “How are you, Miss Sawyer? It has been some time since we last met.”
But the potency of the moment broke as Ruary moved to deliberately take a place beside Miss Sawyer. He took her gloved hand. “My lady,” Ruary said, his voice formal, official, “I hope you will wish us happy.”
“Happy?” Tara echoed, careful to keep her tone neutral.
“Yes, Miss Sawyer has honored me by agreeing to become my wife. The banns have already been announced once.”
Chapter Three
Tara didn’t want to believe she had heard Ruary correctly.
He was hers.
He loved her.
Hadn’t she just felt something between them? The spark of connection? A pull of desire?
He had to have felt the same surge of emotions. He must have.
But he had promised himself to another woman . . . ?
Tara didn’t let any of her confusion show on her face even as her heart seemed to writhe with shock.
“Why, congratulations,” she heard herself say, her voice bright, brittle. “Is the wedding to be soon?”
“Yes, my lady,” Miss Sawyer said, smiling her happiness. “As soon as the last of the banns are announced. That day can’t come soon enough. I’m excited to start our life together.”
Tara nodded even as a new, immediate understanding struck her, one that Aileen had tried to impress upon her: she was ruined.
She had delivered the worst insult a woman could give a man—she’d left him practically at the altar . . . and her reason for such outrageous behavior, the man she had sacrificed everything for, was going to marry another.
“My lady,” Ruary said, “are you all right?”
She frowned at him. No, she wasn’t all right. She’d never be all right again.
“She doesn’t look good,” Miss Sawyer murmured. “She has gone pale.”
“Here, have her sit on this tack box before she goes off into a swoon,” Angus ordered.
But Tara wasn’t about to stay here. She needed time alone, time to think. “I must go to the house,” Tara said decisively. “I must leave.”
Leave to go where? She couldn’t return to London, not in time for her wedding.
Angus urged her to “Please, sit,” but her feet had started moving outside. She raised a hand to her head as if expecting to be feverish and was surprised to discover she was cold. Very cold. She began walking with great determination to the house. She had to reach its safe haven. She could think there.
Miss Sawyer might find her sudden departure odd, but Tara didn’t care. Ruary would tell her what had happened and then the chit could be pleased that he had chosen her over Tara. Then she would brag that she had bested the earl of Tay’s daughter, who had once been the reigning beauty of the valley and who had set hearts afire in London.
But the worst was that Tara had been certain Ruary had been waiting for her. She’d gambled on his love . . . and lost.
Aileen was right about love.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
“Tara,” Ruary said, his voice low. “Wait.”
She shook her head, denying him, not even glancing in his direction, but his legs were longer. He moved past her to block her path.
“I’m worried,” he said. “So is Jane. Are you ill?”
So is Jane.
Those words swirled in the air around her. No man had ever placed another woman before her.
She found strength in anger. “I thought you cared.”
He glanced toward the stables as if to be certain they could not be overheard. Then he said quietly, “I loved you.”
“No, you didn’t. You didn’t hesitate to replace me.” She used the words like whiplashes. “Although you could have done better.”
The corners of Ruary’s mouth tightened. “This is not about Jane. And I didn’t ‘replace’ you, my lady. You walked away. You left me as if I was a lapdog to be tossed aside because you were bored. I mourned for you. I grieved. It took me years to heal my heart. And now you have returned expecting me to still be the lovesick fool I once was?” His outrage seemed to overwhelm him. He gathered himself to say, “I believed you when you said you returned my love. You crushed my soul when you left, but my life has gone on. I’ve built a reputation for myself. My name means something in the valley, and I will not toss it aside by reneging on my promise to a good and faithful woman just because you’ve decided to crook your finger in my direction.”
He turned on his heel and walked away without waiting for her response.
Tara felt paralyzed. Ruary had never spoken to her with such vehemence before.
No one had.
Ever.
She was the darling, the cossetted, the favorite—and Ruary was telling her there were limits?
Limits she might have overstepped.
Tara glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of Ruary rejoining Miss Sawyer. Tara could imagine her asking, “Is she all right?”—the universal question women always asked when they wished to pretend concern.
Tara’s stomach cramped. She suddenly felt light-headed and not quite herself. She took a few steps toward the haven of the beech trees, where she would be out of sight from the stables. Once there, she leaned a hand against a beech trunk and became ill.
She hadn’t much food inside her. Her meals on the road had been little more than stale bread and cheese. The travel had not been pleasant. She had been squeezed into small spaces by pushy, common people who’d seen her as a boy. She’d suffered, suffered terribly . . . just to reach Ruary—
Her stomach tightened again. She started to bend over, then stopped when she heard Aileen’s voice.
“Now will you be honest with me?”
Aileen had gone to Tara’s bedroom with a tray prepared by Cook and had been surprised to find her sister gone. Her filthy boy’s clothing had been tossed on the floor. Puzzled, Aileen had glanced out the window and noticed her sister running from the stables with the horse master in hot pursuit.
Sensing that something had been amiss, Aileen had dashed to her sister’s aid. She had to catch her breath now.
Tara raised the back of her hand to her lips as if she could hide that she’d been indisposed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Aileen made an impatient sound. “Do you believe I am truly that ignorant to what goes on at Annefield? I’d heard of your infatuation with Jamerson.”
“You don’t know a thing about it,” Tara challenged.
“I know he would not be Father’s choice for a husband for you . . . especially if it meant jilting a very wealthy man like Mr. Stephens.”
The pain in Tara’s voice touched Aileen to the core. She went to her sister and put her arms around her. She’d known Mr. Jamerson was going to marry the blacksmith’s daughter, but that information had held little meaning to her until this moment.
Silent tears rolled down Tara’s cheeks. She pressed her lips together as if she was trying to hold them off, reminding Aileen of Tara at the age of four and needing her older sister’s hugs of reassurance.
“I love him,” Tara repeated. “And I’ve lost him. I should never have left him. But I didn’t know three years ago that there was no other man like him.”
“It will be all right,” Aileen soothed.
“No, it won’t,” Tara answered. “Nothing will ever be right again. You didn’t see him, Aileen. Ruary hates me.”
“He does not—”
“He does. He said I hurt him when I left. I’ve hurt many men’s feelings . . . but I always thought Ruary would be there no matter what. If you love someone, shouldn’t you want to forgive her? Isn’t that part of love?”
“Darling, life goes on.”
“Mine won’t. Mine will never be the same again.”
“Tara, you are being overly dramatic—” Aileen started, wanting to calm her sister down.
“How would you have me be? I should have realized sooner what he meant to me. If I had returned even a week ago, the banns would not have been read and there could have been hope for us.”
“Or perhaps not,” Aileen answered. “Mr. Jamerson must have strong feelings for Miss Sawyer. He is not the sort of person to enter marriage lightly. Furthermore, let us be pragmatic. You and Mr. Jamerson are from two different classes. Father would never have agreed to such a match.”
“I did not come here with Father’s permission,” Tara shot back. “And people respect Ruary.”
“They do, provided he stays in his proper place. Father’s response would be swift. If he knew that you jilted Mr. Stephens for Mr. Jamerson, he would give the horse master the sack. Then where would the two of you be?”
“I wouldn’t have cared as long as I was with him.”
“Now that is nonsense—”
“Only because you haven’t ever known love. Real, true love.”
Aileen took a step back. “I don’t know what to reply. You are right, of course. And perhaps I am thankful, because ‘real, true love’ has led you to make the most serious mistake of your life.”
“All the more reason that I must believe,” Tara replied, her voice small. “I’ve no other option.”
Her soft confession tugged at Aileen’s heart. She forced a smile. “It is not so terrible to live beyond the pale of society.”
Tara nodded solemnly. “I shall miss London.”
“You would have given it up if you married Mr. Jamerson,” Aileen reminded her. “And who knows? You might have tired of him. Or you would have discovered he wasn’t the man you believed he was.”
“Please, Aileen, you have made your point. You believe, like so many others, that I am a spoiled, pampered brat who can’t make up her own mind—”
“That is not what I said—”
“My only hope is that I don’t become as cynical as you have.”
The truth of Tara’s accusation cut Aileen to the quick. “Cynical? I prefer defining myself as cautious and rational. You might be wise to develop those traits yourself, sister.”
“I shall keep that in mind,” Tara retorted as she began walking toward the house.
Aileen felt her temper sizzle. “Don’t walk off from me as if you are dismissing a servant.”
“I need something to eat besides bread,” Tara said querulously.
Aileen huffed her frustration. So this was how it was going to be. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so glad to have her sister home. And she wasn’t about to let Tara behave in a miserable manner and expect everyone to fret over her. Aileen had a life of her own to live, and she would let her sister know.
But just as she started to charge after Tara, her sister came to a sudden halt as if frozen in place. She stared at the house, her jaw dropping. She turned to Aileen and squeaked out, “Father.”
“What?”
Tara pointed toward the front drive, where the earl of Tay’s coach and a team of travel-weary horses stood. It had arrived while they’d been arguing. Servants carried in luggage.
“He should still be in London,” Tara said. “I left a note that I was with friends. He shouldn’t have discovered I’d run away so quickly or even believed I’d come here.”
“Apparently he is more clever than you gave him credit for,” Aileen observed dryly.
“Could he be here for another reason?”
“No, I believe searching for a runaway daughter would be his only reason for driving to Scotland three days before your wedding.”
“I don’t want him to see me,” Tara said as she started back for the stables. Aileen hooked her hand around Tara’s arm and turned her around.
“You will have to face him sooner or later. Be bold,” Aileen said. “He may bluster and rage, but there is little else he can do at this late date.”
“He can force me to marriage.”
“No, he can’t. There is no way the two of you could travel fast enough to arrive in time for your wedding breakfast.” The ceremony would have been an intimate, family affair, but the wedding breakfast served afterward had been rumored to be one of the choice invitations of the summer. Aileen had heard that even the Prince Regent was returning to town for the event. “When you decide to create an uproar, you do a very fine job of it.”
“You may keep your opinions to yourself,” Tara snapped, but she began moving toward the house. She had gone a few steps, Aileen at her heels—after all, she wasn’t about to miss the dustup between the earl and Tara—when a man walked out of the house.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with the sun shining off a head full of dark hair that would make any Corinthian proud. He moved with intent of purpose.
Aileen did not recognize him—but Tara did. She skidded to a halt, her eyes widening in shock.
The man didn’t see them. He reached inside the coach for something he’d apparently left behind, made a comment to one of the footmen, and walked back into the house.
“Who is he?” Aileen asked.
A short, hysterical laugh escaped Tara, a sound of impending doom. “Who is he?” she repeated. “He’s my intended. Mr. Blake Stephens.”
Chapter Four
Are you certain?” Aileen insisted. Why would Mr. Stephens make an appearance anywhere close to Annefield?
“Of course I’m certain,” was the terse reply. Tara whirled to face Aileen. “I can’t see him. I won’t know what to say. Or are you going to prod me into being bold and confront a man who might very well wring my neck?”
Aileen stood a moment in indecision. When she woke this morning, nothing could have prepared her for the unusual circumstances of this day.
Yesterday her life had been predictable and, yes, boring.
Today she was being called upon to rescue a sister whose friendship, in spite of their bickering, she had missed very much.
“I don’t even know why Blake is here,” Tara was complaining. “He should be furious with me.”
“He should,” Aileen thoughtfully agreed. “And perhaps he has come so that the earl can bully you into marriage, but I won’t let that happen.” She began walking toward the house, every step filling her with new purpose.
“Aileen, what are you about to do?” Tara called.
“Defend you,” Aileen answered.
“Defend me?” came the incredulous response.
Aileen turned. Her sister hadn’t taken a step to follow but stood alone, looking lost and fearful.
“Aye, defend you,” Aileen said. “I am even going to relish the battle
.” A bitterness she’d kept tamped down so deep inside her that she’d almost forgotten it swelled forth. “The earl knew Geoff was not a suitable husband for any woman. He knew, Tara, and still he pushed me into marriage to Geoff because he wanted the money. He sold me, and he sold you. And then, when I went to him battered and beaten, an arm broken and bruises all over my body, the earl told me it was my problem, not his.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know Geoff had done that to you.”
“That and more,” Aileen admitted bitterly. “But he couldn’t break my spirit. After all, I am a Davidson, and I give thanks every day that I am free of the monster I married. It was a blessing to hear the French shot him.”
“You don’t truly mean that,” Tara protested.
“I do,” Aileen assured her. “No other woman will go through what I did. Furthermore, I am not about to let the earl bully you into a match you do not want. A woman should be able to choose her husband, or un-choose him if she so desires.”
“What are you going to do?” Tara asked, uncertain.
“I’m going to tell the earl that you shall marry for love and no other reason. Yes, that is what I will say.” Aileen started for the house.
“But you don’t believe in love,” Tara reminded her.
Aileen paused in her charge. “I do for my sister. You have the right to want what you want. Are you coming? Or shall I plead your case alone?”
Tara looked to the house in indecision. “Father will be angry. He won’t understand.”
“Aye, but he will manage.” White-hot anger surged through Aileen. “In fact those are the very words he said years ago when I went to him over Geoff’s bouts of temper. He told me ‘to manage.’ I shall enjoy returning the advice when he realizes that his youngest daughter will not be cowed as I was. He can no longer sell us to the highest bidder, and he will have to ‘manage’ to find funds from some other source. Or he can give up gaming,” she said brightly. “There is a brilliant idea!” She leveled her gaze on Tara. “So are you joining me?”
Her sister drew breath and released it before saying, “I still don’t want to see Mr. Stephens.”