For 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.”
“It would be so easy to believe you. Indeed, I think you believe yourself.”
Her brows shot together. “How can you doubt me? Ruary, I don’t want to live without you.”
He shook his head. “And do you think I am the sort of man who believes it is all right to threaten people to have my way? Especially family?”
“I just want us to be together.”
“Tara, there is no us.” The truth of those words rang through him. “Years ago, we were both too young and too naive.”
“I’ve apologized. I didn’t realize what I was tossing aside—”
“Yes, you did, Tara. You were the wise one. If we had run off the way I urged you to, then life would not be good for us. I would have given up everything I worked for and wouldn’t be able to support a dog, let alone a wife and bairns.”
“You would be a wonderful husband.”
“Aye, you are right—but not a wonderful one for you. The ‘what ifs’ would have destroyed what we felt for each other. And if I agreed to this scheme of yours, then maybe not now, but soon, what you’d done to your sister would play on you. I’ve watched you and Lady Aileen for many years. You are close. And take it from a man who doesn’t have family—blood is important.”
Tara’s lips turned mutinous, but she did not challenge his words. She turned from him, staring off into the distance at what only she could see. He waited, caring enough about her to give her time.
She swung her gaze back to him. “What was yesterday?”
“The kissing? Wishful thinking.”
Slowly, she lowered her head. For a moment, he thought she wept, but when she faced him, she was dry-eyed, and resigned. “What do I do now?”
“Go back to Annefield and learn to be a good wife to Mr. Stephens. You’ve put the man through his paces, Tara. You owe him that.”
“I don’t think he likes me overmuch.”
“You have been a trial.”
“I’m not talking about recently.” She shifted her weight. “He has never been particularly devoted to me. He certainly hasn’t kissed me in the manner he was holding Aileen.”
“Then he is a fool.”
She smiled as if agreeing with him. She was not a woman men said no to very often. He doubted if she’d ever heard the word until this last twenty-four-hour period. That would be hard on anyone.
“Do you truly love Jane Sawyer?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered, realizing another truth. “I do. I didn’t at first. I still missed you, but as time passed, I’ve come to care for her very much.”
A tear escaped the corner of Tara’s eye. She swiped at it with a gloved hand, looking away as if embarrassed, then said, “Well, then, you’d best be going.”
“What of you? Can I escort you back to Annefield? Campbell expects me to go there with you, and he has demonstrated a shrewd ability to know everything that happens in the valley.”
“I suppose we must then.” She walked over to her horse. “I don’t like him. He has no manners.”
“Breccan doesn’t care what you think.”
“He cares about having a better stable than Annefield’s. Do you think it loyal that you help him?”
“I go where a man is willing to pay for my talent, Tara, nothing more, nothing less. Of course, it is always easier to deal with horses than it is men like Breccan and your father.”
She nodded, and Ruary moved to help her mount. This was how it had begun for them. He’d been the stable lad who had held her horse. For a second, the poignancy of the moment gripped them both. She looked down at him, and he felt transported to that innocent time long ago when he’d first begun to dream of a life beyond his station.
She broke the moment first. “Be good to Jane,” she whispered.
“I will. You be kind to Mr. Stephens. He’ll have his hands full with you.”
Tara laughed, the seriousness of the moment broken. “We shall see.”
Ruary mounted, and they directed their horses out of the haven of the trees and back onto the road just as a rider came cantering from the direct of Laird Breccan’s estate. The rider pulled up at the sight of them.
“Jane,” Ruary said in recognition and also in a moment of surprised guilt.
Her horse pranced a step as she took in the sight of Ruary and Tara together. She’d seen them emerge from the trees.
Indignation rose to her cheeks in two bright red spots, while the rest of her face turned pale. “Laird Breccan said I would find the two of you on this road.”
“We are going to Annefield—,” Ruary started to explain, but she cut through his words.
“Stop it. Don’t say another word. I’m done with it. You want her? Then have her. No more sneaking around and thinking folks don’t see. Well, I have pride, and I’ll not marry a man who is unfaithful.” She threw the words at him before putting heels to horse and galloping off.
For a second, Ruary sat, stunned, then he charged after her.
Ruary chased Jane all the way to her father’s smithy on the outskirts of Aberfeldy, but she would not see him. She went inside her house and refused to come out.
Ruary pounded on the door. Finally her father came to him, iron tongs in his hands, and said, “You’d best leave, Jamerson. She’s done with you. Go back to your lover.”
He spoke as if Ruary had been a stranger.
Not only that, but Ruary’s shouting and beating on the door had gathered a crowd of villagers. He could tell by their expressions they had heard about his meetings with Tara.
Too late he remembered there were no secrets in the valley.
They had formed opinions and found him guilty. He’d lived amongst these people for a good twelve years of his life. They had treated him well. They had given him opportunities he would not have found anywhere else.
But they now stared at him coldly.
Their loyalties were to the smith and his daughter.
Ruary left the doorstep, his heart heavy.
There is talk in town about your sister,” Sabrina said, entering the morning room, where Aileen was reading a book. Or rather, she was attempting to read it. She’d been studying the same book for the two days she had been at her cousin’s and had not made any progress. She had too much on her mind.
Her uncle, Richard Davidson, was the local magistrate. His wife had just passed the year before. Her death had been hard on him and Sabrina. After the divorce, he’d not been accepting of Aileen’s friendship with his daughter. However, she was kin, and he would never completely turn her away.
Besides his daughter, Richard had two sons, both serving in the military. Consequently, he relied on Sabrina as a hostess and housekeeper, since his portion was vastly inferior to his brother’s, the earl of Tay.
Aileen had often suggested to the earl that he should increase his brother’s circumstances and offer him a living from the estate. However, the earl was not inclined to be generous. Not if he needed the money for his gambling.
“Talk of Tara?” Aileen repeated, quickly forgetting the book.
“I wasn’t certain whether to say something to you,” Sabrina said. She sat on the edge of the chair opposite Aileen. She had just returned from a walk into the village and still wore her wide-brimmed straw bonnet at a rakish angle.
But right now, her manner was very serious.
“Say something about what?” Aileen’s first thought was that Tara had denounced her. It was what she deserved. She should not have kissed Mr. Stephens, not in that manner.
“They say she has been meeting the horse master. The one that works at Annefield.”
“Oh.” Aileen couldn’t think of another word that was safe to say. Tara had been caught.
Sabrina lowered her voice as if sharing a secret. “You know he and Jane Sawyer were having the banns read, but now she’ll have nothing to do with him. I saw Mr. Jamerson in the village. He was standing on the bridge. One can see Sawyer’s smithy from there, and they say Mr. Jamerson has been there day and night, just staring.” Sabrina focused her gaze, mimicking Mr. Jamerson’s expression. “They say he hasn’t moved.”
“What does he want?”
“I suppose to see Miss Sawyer, but Helen Dinwiddie told me she will have nothing to do with him. Everyone is worried about her. She is not eating. She refuses to come out of her room. Her heart is broken—and they hold Tara to blame.”
Aileen sat very still, trying to comprehend this turn of events.
“Jane Sawyer must be acting a bit like you,” Sabrina observed.
That comment cut the confusion in Aileen’s mind. “What do you mean?” she challenged, even as a guilty flush warmed her cheeks.
“I don’t pry,” Sabrina said, “but you are not yourself. Something happened to bring you to our door in the wee hours of the morning. I wouldn’t push you to discuss it, but with the gossip in town, well, perhaps you need a cousin to confide in?”
Aileen started to refute any hint that something was wrong, but then realized protests were fruitless. The evidence was too damning. She had not stirred from her uncle’s. Her only concern at Annefield was for Folly’s care and keeping. Other than that, she’d not mentioned her home.
Furthermore, she could use a confidante, and she trusted Sabrina. Her cousin had been a staunch ally throughout the Crim Con trial and divorce. She’d even traveled to London to be with Aileen, something the earl hadn’t been willing to do. He’d been absent from London during that time, and Tara had been too young to have been of much help. Nor would it have served her well if she had sided with Aileen.
But Sabrina had come without a care of the social costs or her own father’s disapproval.
“My mind is a knotted maze from trying to sort everything out,” Aileen confessed. “And I don’t know why. It should be so easy.”
“What should be so easy?”
“My feelings for Blake Stephens.”
“Wait,” Sabrina said, tilting her head in confusion. “Mr. Stephens is betrothed to Tara.”
“And they should have married in London, but she bolted. She jilted him.”
“But he is here now.” Sabrina drew her brows together. She adored a mystery. Indeed, she enjoyed her role as the magistrate’s daughter because it gave her access to all of what she called the “very best details.”
“Aye, he is here,” Aileen agreed, “and I believe I’ve fallen in love with him.” She put a hand up to her mouth, shocked by her admission. She looked to her cousin. “I couldn’t be in love with him. I didn’t mean what I said. We have only just met.”
“And,” Sabrina said, equally surprised, “he is to marry your sister.”
“That is why I had to leave. I couldn’t stay in the same house with him. He’s dangerous. Like a tiger.”
“A tiger?”
Aileen shook her head. “It is how I imagine him. He can behave like one of those beasts. There is power around him and he never seems ruffled by events, although he can be annoyed.” Oh, yes, she had seen that side of him many times.
“Is there merit to the gossip in the village?” Sabrina asked.
“About Tara and Mr. Jamerson? I’m afraid it is true.”
Sabrina brought her hand down onto the chair seat as if afraid she would fall out of it in amazement. “Tara? With the help?”
Aileen nodded.
“He is a handsome man, I’ll grant you that,” Sabrina said. “But so is Mr. Stephens.”
“The horse master is an uncommonly handsome man, but I actually prefer Mr. Stephens’s looks over Jamerson’s.”
“Yes, I imagine you would,” Sabrina said with a small touch of irony.
The insanity of her admission pierced Aileen’s sense of right and wrong. She let out a horrified groan. “What have I done? Why can’t I just be normal? Why couldn’t I have married a man who wasn’t a monster? Or had enough sense to not search for love from Peter who was so weak?”
“Mr. Stephens is not weak,” Sabrina pointed out. “He’s a tiger.”
“You will never let me live that down, will you?” Aileen said to her cousin.
“I’m afraid I can’t. That description was too good to ever forget,” Sabrina assured her with just the merest hint of regret.
“I didn’t mean to be attracted to Mr. Stephens. He belongs to Tara. They are going to marry.”
“Which sister is he attracted to?” Sabrina asked.
“His preferences don’t matter,” Aileen countered. “Not once he spoke for Tara.” She came to her feet and paced a few steps, thinking, before saying to her cousin, “In truth, Sabrina, I don’t know if he cares for me at all. It is possible he just wished to teach Tara a lesson.”
“He knows about Jamerson?”
“Yes, he found out. He was upset, and I was close at hand. Then Tara caught Mr. Stephens and me kissing, and I knew I had to leave.”
Sabrina sat back in her chair with a sound of revelation. “And here I assumed you were living a quiet life.”
“This is not a joking matter,” Aileen warned. “And discussing this with you, I realize I may have made too much of the situation. He could have been using me to strike back at Tara.”
“Which I do not believe speaks well for him,” Sabrina returned stoutly.
“Perhaps not, but it means that I have allowed feelings I should not have to influence my best judgment.”
“Aileen, think on it, love is a strong word. Perhaps you just have a high regard for him. Or maybe, what with Tara and this disturbing liaison with Mr. Jamerson, you might empathize with Mr. Stephens and, well, be your caring self. You might not like him at all. Not truly.”
“And imagined I’m in love?”
“You have known Mr. Stephens—what? A week? One can’t fall in love that quickly.”
Sabrina was right. “Geoff courted me a year before I had feelings for him. And I’d known Peter most of my life.”
Sabrina held up a hand as if to stave her off. “Please do not compare Mr. Stephens to Geoff and Peter. He’d be better served if you compared him to my dog Rolf than those men.
Hearing his name, there was the click of nails on the wood floor as Rolf jumped up from his cushion in the corner and came running. He was a small pup that weighed less than a stone.
He leaped into Sabrina’s lap. Sabrina laughed and kissed Rolf’s front paws. Her cousin had rescued the pup from some boys who’d been teasing it.
“Thank you,” Aileen said.
“For what?” Sabrina asked in surprise, looking up from her pet.
“For helping me sort out my troubles. I may have read too much into my own feelings, let alone those of others.” She started walking toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to Annefield. If rumors are going around and Mr. Jamerson is standing on the bridge pining for his betrothed, Tara needs me. My being here will only add to the tongue wagging.”
“What of Mr. Stephens?”
Aileen paused. “He doesn’t have feelings for me. You are right.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Sabrina said, holding Rolf back as he tried to lick her face.
“But you gave me a chance to reconsider. If Mr. Stephens did have strong feelings for me, wouldn’t he have shown some sign, such as coming to me? Or at least writing a note?”
“Or standing on the bridge, staring at your uncle’s house? That would be a sight, with both Mr. Jamerson and Mr. Stephens on General Wade’s Bridge.”
“That it would, but tigers don’t wait, not for anyone. They either act, or they don’t. Thank you, Sabrina.” Aileen came back in the room to give her cousin a kiss on the cheek, needing to push aside the wiggly Rolf to do so.
“Good luck to you,” Sabrina said. “And don’t worry about the rumors. I’ve already denounced them and will keep doing so.”
“I shall see you at Tara’s wedding,” Aileen called as she left the room.
It did not take long for her to pack. Emory, her uncle’s man, drove her back to Annefield in the pony cart.
The sun was setting when she arrived, and the lamp over Annefield’s front step had been lit. Ingold opened the door in greeting. “It is good to have you return,” he said.
“Is all well?” she asked as Simon took her luggage from her and carried it up the stairs.
Ingold leaned forward. “Lady Tara has taken a tray in her room. Mr. Stephens ate with his lordship but has returned to his room.”
“And the earl?”
“In the dining room.”
Which meant he was drinking.
Aileen did not want to see him. “I shall go upstairs,” she said. “Please send a tray to my—”
“Daughter!” the earl’s voice rang through the hall. He came marching toward her. He had removed his coat, so he was only in waistcoat and shirtsleeves.
Aileen drew a deep, fortifying breath and plastered a smile on her face. “Hello.”
“Good to have you home,” he said and then, in the next breath, “Ingold, my coat, my hat. Send someone to have a horse saddled.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler motioned for Simon, who was halfway down the stairs after having carried Aileen’s bag to her room, to fetch his lord’s clothing. Ingold himself then went down the hall to send someone out to the stables.
“You are going out?” Aileen asked, puzzled. “At this hour?”
“I am indeed. Thought I would go half mad stuck here in the country. Had to keep up appearances, but you are here now, and you can chaperone the lot.” He confided, “You won’t have to worry much. Stephens and Tara are a bit like oil and water. They don’t mingle.”
Aileen did not like the way her heart gave a happy little start at the information. “Does that bode well for the marriage?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“The marriage bed will stir them up fine,” the earl predicted. “And if it doesn’t? Well, not my worry.”
“Where are you going?” Aileen asked.
The earl did a little jig. “The widow Bossley needs me for a wee visit. She’s been lonely.”
“Oh, I’m certain she has been,” Aileen murmured.
Her sire’s response was to laugh. “She sends me letters with fulsome promises for breakfast, supper and dinner. I am most ready to take her up on her offers.” He tapped an impatient foot, a sign he was anxious to be off. “We had a good hunt the other day,” he said as if making conversation.
Ah, the hunt. After all that had transpired Sunday evening, Aileen had forgotten about it. She was certain that Ingold and Mrs. Watson had seen to matters. They usually did. “That’s good,” she murmured, as anxious for him to leave as he was to go.
Simon came down the stairs with the garments. The earl smiled and held out his arms for help with the wool jacket in a very stylish bottle green. He tugged on each sleeve, then stopped, as if struck by an idea. “I should tell you, Stephens is interested in the stables. He discussed building his own.”
“Oh,” Aileen said, not trusting herself to say more on the subject of Blake Stephens.
“He asked about one of my mares.” He reached for his hat and stepped in front of the small looking glass by the door to check his appearance as he put it on. “You know the mare. You used to ride her. Folly is her name.”
Aileen stopped breathing, suddenly afraid.
“Old thing,” her father was saying. “She was a good breeder, but her best days are behind her.”
“What about Folly?” Aileen’s first thought was that Mr. Stephens had exacted the perfect revenge. If he was angry with her for the other night and for leaving the house, there was no more perfect way to hurt Aileen than to tell the earl that his order to put Folly down had been ignored.
“He bought her,” the earl announced. “Told me he was interested in breeding stock and had heard of the mare.” He paused and frowned. “I’d thought I’d ordered the mare put down, but fortunately, I have her.” He turned to Aileen. “And let me tell you, I bargained hard with Stephens. He hardly countered for the price. I sold that mare to him for three times her worth. He’ll be keeping her here until he sets up his own place.”
Aileen thought she would faint from relief. She reached for the stair bannister to steady herself.
If Aileen had wanted a sign that Mr. Stephens cared for her, she could have asked no better.
There was a knock on the door. Since he was standing right there, the earl opened it to the stable lad with his horse. The earl shot Aileen a parting grin. “Don’t expect me home, daughter.” He left.
Had she told Sabrina she “believed” she had fallen in love with Mr. Stephens?
She now knew.
Love was not what she’d expected. It wasn’t gallant and noble. No, it was a heady rush of emotion based upon the realization that here, at last, was someone who cared about her as much as she did him.
Here, at last, was a man she could trust.
Aileen went charging up the stairs. She bypassed her room and went straight to Mr. Stephens’s door. She did not knock but walked right in.
He’d best be ready, because she was going to do more than just unceremoniously reenter his life. Oh no, she had come to love him.