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 was 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.
And if she cried off, well, there would still be disapproval.
The key to all of this was Ruary. If he came to her, then Aileen could have Blake and all would be happy, just like the ending to one of Shakespeare’s comedies.
And that was how she wanted it to end—without her having to make a hard decision.
She went down for dinner that evening but did not linger. Finally she saw what anyone not wrapped up in her own worries should have noticed: Blake and Aileen shared something very special.
Aileen pretended to keep her distance from Blake, but it was futile. They made a handsome couple. They were both of the same age and shared similar temperaments. There was a courteousness between them, a caring that spoke volumes for their regard for each other.
Aileen did try to corner her for a moment of conversation after dinner, but Tara was not in the mood. “I’m tired,” Tara claimed. “Perhaps in the morning we can talk.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Aileen persisted, following Tara to the stairs.
“But it has,” Tara countered.
“Yes.”
For a second, the two sisters took each other’s measure.
“What happens next is your decision,” Aileen said. “I won’t push the matter if you choose to hold Blake to his promise.”
“And why would you back away?” Tara wondered.
Aileen shook her head as if recalling memories that were unpleasant. “I can’t go through another scandal, Tara. I won’t let that happen to Blake or to you. It’s too painful.”
On the tip of Tara’s tongue was the admonishment that Aileen should have thought of that before she’d laid claim to Blake’s affections. But before she could let loose that barb, Aileen said, “I know what you must think. I have made terrible errors of judgment in my life. I’ve tried to live it for other people and do what was expected. You see where I am now.” She placed her hand on Tara’s arm. “You are my sister. I value and love you. I will not harm you. The decision is yours.”
“And I’m to feel no pressure?”
“There is pressure,” Aileen conceded. “I don’t want to give Blake up. I love him.”
“I thought you’d decided that love is a myth,” Tara said, reminding her of the discussion they’d had when she’d first arrived home.
“I know,” Aileen said. “And this is a devil of a fix.” She reached over and, placing her arm around Tara’s shoulders, gave her a squeeze.
The gesture reminded Tara of the day her sister had left to go to London. Her sister. She’d worshipped her.
And now that Aileen was asking for something, Tara didn’t know if she should give it. Or if she could. “Good night,” she murmured and started up the stairs, but Aileen stopped her.
“If Mr. Jamerson does choose to marry Miss Sawyer, if he doesn’t come for you, what shall happen then?”
The possibility was repugnant to Tara, and yet very real. “I don’t want to lose at love,” she confessed, then turned and ran up the stairs.
Aileen watched her sister hurry to her room as if being chased by demons.
Blake came up behind her. “How did it go?”
“Not good.”
“You had to do better with her than I did this afternoon. She’s had time to think about it.”
Aileen turned to this man she loved. “Were you gentle with her?”
He hesitated a moment, then said, “I was direct with her.”
No wonder Tara was so quiet. “It is her decision to make,” Aileen insisted. “I will not impede a marriage between you.”
“Don’t I have something to say about this?”
She took two steps away from him, glancing down the hall to ensure they were alone. Of course it didn’t matter how much distance was between them, she could feel his presence and identify immediately the scent of his shaving soap. “I don’t want regrets,” she whispered.
“You may be asking too much,” Blake answered.
Aileen shook her head. “You think we can brazen this out. Perhaps you could . . . I couldn’t. I already have one reputation—”
“A completely false one, and I shall shout it to the world.”
Aileen smiled, knowing differently. “But what if we have children?”
“They shall survive, as I did,” he said.
“Funny, but I believe that saving your children from being outcasts was the reason you asked for Tara’s hand in the first place.”
Now it was his turn to move away. “You changed me,” he said. “It is you I want to please. No one else but you. I love you.”
His declaration caught her by surprise. She’d been waiting for it. Wanting it, expecting it, hoping for it. She knew how he felt, but hearing him say it was all she wanted. “And I love you, Blake, but this is so hard.”
“Don’t make it so.” He took Aileen’s hands, raised them to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers. His breath was warm on her skin. “Whatever happens, we shall see it through. I am your protector.”
“And I am yours,” she said. “I will not let any harm come to you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
She nodded. She knew differently.
Doing what one wished always sounded easy until one had to pay the price.
She went up to his room with him then. He held her in his arms and whispered vows that all would be well. He would see to it.
Aileen listened, but she did not believe. And halfway through the night, unsettled while he slept peacefully, she rose from his bed and returned to her own. Her sheets were cold. They lacked the warmth and scent of his body.
However, hers was a wise decision . . . because the next morning, a Sunday and the announcing of the third banns for Tara and Blake’s marriage, the gossip before the service was of Mr. Jamerson giving chase to Miss Sawyer as she left the valley on the Glasgow Mail.
Had he caught her?
They had their answer when her father stood up at the end of the service and announced his daughter had married. “She is now Mrs. Jamerson,” he said with a note of pride.