This was the declaration she wanted from Ruary.
She could not begrudge Aileen. Her older sister deserved happiness.
Still, it would not appear well to the eyes of the world that Blake had chosen Aileen over her, and Tara cared very much for what the world thought. She knew how difficult London society could be. One misstep and doors slammed shut.
Blake knew as well.
“Do you not realize what will happen if you marry my sister?” Tara asked. “Everything you worked for will be gone. Especially since she is a divorced woman.”
“I’ll have my business affairs,” he answered, his tone hardening, as if he was not pleased with her mild observation. “And my friends will stand beside me. I would have nothing to do with those who would reject Aileen.”
“What of your father? Will he approve of such a match?”
“Are you raising objections out of concern for your sister?” he asked coolly. “Or do you have your own reasons?”
His question was a good one. Tara wasn’t certain how she felt.
Instead of running away the way she had, he was being decent and asking for her understanding. Furthermore, this involved Aileen. Perhaps they had grown apart over the years, but they were still sisters, and Tara did love her.
However, Tara had come a good distance from those days when she’d been completely dependent upon her oldest sister. Much had happened.
What did she owe Aileen now? And didn’t allegiance go both ways? “I can hear the whispers,” she said. “They will talk about one sister stealing another sister’s future husband. It might be different if you weren’t who you are. There will be a great deal of speculation.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “I sense what is going through your mind. You are right to be concerned.”
“Concerned?” Her voice sounded a bit shrill. She swallowed. “This is not some comedy where lovers are passed around and all’s well that ends well. There will be a price.”
“I’m willing to pay that price.”
“And what if I say no?” she asked.
Blake sat back, the set of his jaw hardening. “I hope you won’t, for Aileen’s sake as well as mine.”
“But if I did, would you honor your commitment to me?”
He considered her a long moment before saying, “Yes, I would. Mainly because your sister would not have me without your blessing.”
Her blessing.
And, Tara wondered, what did she want? She wanted Ruary. If he came back to her, then she didn’t care what Blake did.
“I need to consider the matter,” she said. “Will you let me have a bit of time?”
Blake’s gaze narrowed. “Our banns will soon be announced for the third time.”
“I am aware of that. How good of you to remember.”
He did not like her jibe. He stood. “I mean nothing to you, Tara. But Aileen means the world to me. I’m not a begging man, but I ask you now to free me of my pledge.”
“It isn’t just my decision to make,” she answered. “We are bound by the conventions of society—”
“That is rubbish. You were willing to bolt on me without a thought to ‘society.’”
“I’m wiser now,” Tara said, her tone equally steely. “And a woman has more to lose. Men don’t like being second choices. And I don’t want Aileen’s lot. I don’t want to be left in the valley to just rusticate. The life I desire is in London. You know that.”
“And what of your horse master?”
“What of him?” she challenged.
Blake didn’t continue on with it. Instead he shook his head with disgust. “You are a child.”
“I was woman enough for you at one point. But this isn’t easy, Blake,” she said, rising to her feet. “It is like we are all marionettes. There is a limit to what we can do freely.”
“What limits? The conventions of society? To the devil with them, Tara. Do what is right.”
“And what is that, Blake. Ruining myself?”
“How would you be ruined? Cry off and let me carry the blame.”
“But all will know you chose my sister over me.”
“And that is the heart of it, isn’t it? You don’t want to be left behind.”
“You are right,” she admitted with complete honesty. “I don’t want to be pitied or abandoned.” She’d experienced that once when Aileen had left her and gone to London.
No, Tara had not liked that at all. She’d understood then that the important did not stay behind.
“Well, understand this,” he informed her. “Your sister and I are lovers.”
His words were hard. Piercing. For a second she wanted to blame Aileen . . . and yet couldn’t. “You would risk breeding subject bastards?”
“Yes,” he said, as if just considering the thought. “I could wish no mother better for them than Aileen.” He left the room.
No mother better . . .
His words were a cruel cut. She’d not thought of what it would mean to be a mother. She’d not considered it. Childish of her . . .
She sank down onto the settee.
Ruary. She had to focus on Ruary. He was her only hope for a life of love. Closing her eyes, she repeated the prayer that had been in her mind for days, “Please, Ruary, come for me.”
Jane had left him.
Ruary was stunned by the knowledge.
Even though she had not let him close to her for the last six days, he had desperately hoped they would work out their differences. He’d never imagined her running.
Hannah Menzies was the one to tell him. She was a young widow with two small lads and had eyed Ruary as a father for her sons for a good time now. She had not been pleased when Ruary had started courting Jane.
Catching Ruary while he was preparing to stand his vigil at the bridge, she couldn’t wait to tell him the news that Jane had gone off to Glasgow.
There had been only one day when he’d not been at the bridge. That had been when Tara had come searching for him. It would not have served to have Jane see him speaking to, or being anywhere near, Tara.
He’d hoped to wear Jane down. He’d seen her a time or two in the window of her house, watching him. He had expected that she would finally listen to him when he said he loved her. She would forgive him for his lapse with Tara. He’d been a fool.
Instead, she’d gone to Glasgow, and the news surprised him.
He’d seen her father almost every day, although the two men had not spoken. Sawyer wouldn’t even make eye contact. The smithy was protective of his daughter and only child. Ruary expected him to take her side, although the two men had rubbed well together in the past. Sawyer had been pleased when Ruary had asked for Jane’s hand.
Now it was as if Ruary was completely cut out of their lives.
“You must be feeling sad, Mr. Jamerson,” Hannah Menzies said. “Perhaps having a good dinner at my table will help your spirits.”
Ruary took a step in one direction and then another, confused. How could she just leave?
“I’ve stewed a chicken. Do you like stewed chicken, Mr. Jamerson?” the widow Menzies continued.
Ruary frowned, not understanding. But there had been something she’d said that made sense. “Glasgow?” he repeated.
“Aye. They said on the coach out of Kenmore.”
That coach would have left an hour ago.
The widow smiled hopefully at him. She was missing two of her teeth, one for each child, they say.
For a second, Ruary was tempted to rip the bridge into pieces. He was that upset. He’d done a great deal of thinking over the past days. He’d watched Tara looking for him. He knew he could turn to her and she would welcome him with open arms . . . until something or someone else caught her eye.
Or she grew bored being a simple horse master’s wife.
Yes, he knew Tara better than she did herself. They’d been very young together, and the ties between them were strong. He had no doubt that she loved him as well as Tara could love anyone. She s
till had much to learn. He understood that now. For whatever reason she had run to him, he knew he wasn’t the answer for her.
He also knew she was his past.
Jane had been his future, a future that had once been filled with everything he could have ever wanted—and Ruary reached a decision.
He had done this all wrong. Everything wrong. He’d expected Jane to come to him. Or he’d thought he could knock on her door and she would forgive him.
Ruary had no doubt that Jane loved him, but he also knew she needed to be certain of him.
And he didn’t have much time to make amends.
But he could. He had to.
“So what do you say, Mr. Jamerson? Will you be coming for dinner?”
Ruary placed his hands on the widow’s arms to move her out of his path as he said, “Thank you, Mrs. Menzies. I wish I could be eating with you and your sons, but I have to go fetch Miss Sawyer. I must have Jane.”
“But she left you,” the widow protested.
“All the more reason for me to chase,” Ruary said, already moving toward the field where he kept Marcus. His saddle was in his cottage, but there was no time to fetch it. The widow tried to follow.
“You are a fine man,” she was saying to him. “I don’t believe a man like yourself should chase after a woman who doesn’t want you.”
“Then you would be wrong,” Ruary threw out at her. “Although I am deeply in your debt, Mrs. Menzies, for the knowledge.”
“I don’t want you in my debt,” she pouted. “I want you at my table.”
And in her bed.
But that wasn’t for Ruary.
Years ago, Tara had left him, and it had taken him almost two years to overcome her rejection. But Jane was different. Jane loved him. He knew that all the way to his soul.
He also understood that she would not tolerate his playing fast and loose with her, and he had needed that lesson. He’d let his head be turned by a past love, but he was seeing clearly now. He knew which woman he wanted. The question was—did she want him?
As if reading his mind, the widow said in a singsong voice, “She’s left you. She doesn’t have a care for you.” She sounded like the harbinger of doom, but Ruary didn’t care.
He mounted his horse and smiled down at her. “You may be right, Mrs. Menzies. But I can’t let her go without doing everything in my power to win her back.” He put heels to horse, and they were off.
After days of inactivity, Marcus was ready to go. Because of his work, Ruary knew all the paths and byways between the different villages and stables. He now used the knowledge to his advantage.
Man and beast ran as one, and within the hour, Ruary rode up over a knoll and saw the Glasgow Mail on the road below him.
He charged down the hill. Marcus landed on the road in front of the coach. The driver had no choice but to pull his horses to a halt.
The guard blew his horn for Ruary to move out of the way, while the driver punctuated the sound by shouting, “You bloody fool.”
Ruary ignored the order. “I need to see a passenger. A Miss Sawyer.”
Several passengers craned their necks out the window for a look at what had caused the delay. They passed on this information to those inside the coach.
“Move out of the way,” the guard shouted, setting aside his horn and reaching for his blunderbuss.
“Go ahead and put a hole in him,” the disgruntled driver said, holding his stamping horses. “Either that or I’ll drive over him—”
“Jane,” Ruary shouted. He called for her again, and again, until the coach door opened.
Jane climbed out. For a long moment, she stared at him, her features tight and unyielding. She wore her best dress, a brown one with black trim, and her bonnet was one she had designed herself—and she looked beautiful to him.
He had her attention now, and he didn’t know what to say, because if he said the wrong words, she would be gone from him.
So he did the only thing he could think to do that would make her understand how sorry he was to have hurt her—he sank to his knees, right there in the road, in front of everyone.
Chapter Sixteen
Jane had been dreaming of him.
In the tight confines of the mail coach, she’d been crushed between a wool merchant and a grandmother who smelled of onions. She had closed her eyes against them and her sadness. In her mind, she could see the handsome man who had won and destroyed her heart.
Her father thought Ruary a good man. As the days had passed and Ruary had kept his vigil for her, her father had suggested that perhaps she should give him another chance.
He didn’t understand.
Ruary wanted her to believe there was nothing between himself and Lady Tara, but Jane knew differently. Lady Tara would not give up, and Ruary didn’t have the will to walk away from her.
The incident also brought home to Jane that Ruary was the sort of men many women would try to entice. His looks commanded attention. She, herself, always felt a little giddy whenever she looked at him. Many a time she had wondered what he saw in her. He could do much better.
What she had come to face was that she did not want to live her life ruled by jealousy. There would be no peace.
Besides, she was still not convinced that Ruary loved her.
He cared for her. He liked her. But love was not a word he mentioned to her.
Her father had explained to her that when a man asked a woman to marry him, it was the same as saying he loved her. He just didn’t use the words. Her father didn’t understand. The words mattered.
However, now Ruary was on his knees in front of her.
“I’m sorry, Jane. I’m so sorry.” He bowed his head. “I know the pain I caused.”
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“Because I feel it.” He touched his heart. “I know.”
She believed him.
Slowly, she walked toward him. Marcus nickered a greeting. It made her smile.
She stopped in front of Ruary, then sank down on the earth in front of him. She placed her gloved hand on the side of his face. Looking into his eyes, she said, “I’m not beautiful.”
“You are to me.”
“I was—”
“You are. Jane, I was flattered by Lady Tara’s attention, and in some ways I’m glad for it, because now I know that you are the woman I need in my life.”
“You hurt me,” she admitted.
“I know. I was wrong, Jane. Can you forgive me?”
Could she?
Her answer was to place a kiss on his lips. They hadn’t kissed often. Jane was shy and Ruary courteous.
However, this kiss was different.
For once, Ruary did not hold back. He allowed her to see his passion.
The thought went through her mind: Had this been the way he’d kissed Lady Tara?
Ruary broke the kiss. He caught her hands and held them as he looked into her eyes and said, “I love you, Jane. I will always love you and only you.”
Those were the words she’d yearned to hear.
Tears came to her eyes. Jane leaned forward, throwing her arms around him. “I loved you,” she whispered against his neck. “I adored you. This has hurt me so much.”
“I know, I know, and I never wish to hurt you again.”
She believed him.
The guard blew on his horn. “Do you mind?” the driver shouted when he had their attention. “We have a schedule to run. Either climb in or go to the nearest inn.”
Ruary jumped to his feet, pulling Jane with him. “Let us have her bag,” he said. “We are going to elope. No more waiting banns and the like. And then, after I make you truly my wife, Jane Sawyer, we’re off to England. Will you come with me?”
Off to England. There had always been talk that he would go sooner or later, but Jane had believed that there couldn’t be very much of the world beyond Aberfeldy. This decision to go to Glasgow had been a huge one.
But now Ruary was asking her. And this w
as what marriage was about. A woman left her family and joined with one man to become his.
“Aye, I’m for England, and a grand adventure it will be,” she said. The pride in his eye was all the validation she would ever need. She loved this man and now knew he would always take care of her.
“Then would you remove yourselves from the road,” the coachman roared and lifted his whip.
Ruary took Jane’s hand, and together they sprinted out of the way of the coach. The onion-smelling grandmother leaned out the window and waved a farewell as she went by.
“Are we truly going to elope?” Jane asked.
“Aye.”
She faced him. “Because you are afraid to return to Annefield?”
Ruary shook his head. “No, Jane, because you are mine and you always will be. I don’t need the reading of the banns to tell me that.”
“Then let us go,” she whispered.
He climbed onto Marcus’s back and reached down his hand to pull Jane up to sit in front of him. It didn’t take them long to marry. In Scotland, outside of the church, all that was needed were witnesses. They were easy enough to find.
And that night, in a small, cozy inn beside Loch Awe, Ruary made her a wife . . . and she would never question his love again.
Nor would he give her cause.
Tara didn’t know how she felt toward her sister or the knowledge that Aileen and Blake were lovers.
Should she be angry at Aileen? She didn’t know. And the more Tara thought about it, the more confusing everything seemed.
From her earliest memory, she’d always had a certain power over men. It wasn’t anything she did in particular. They just liked to look at her.
And men weren’t the only ones. When she’d been presented, it had been women who’d approved of her and begun inviting her to the balls, routs and soirees that were so much a part of London society—and that was with the scandal of Aileen’s divorce still fresh in the air.
But she also understood that her physical beauty could take her only so far. There were lines one didn’t cross. Aileen had crossed with her divorce, and, after witnessing what had happened to her, Tara was always cautious.
But now Blake wanted to cry off. If people discovered why, tongues would wag from Scotland to London. Tara would be humiliated.
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