The Bride Says No (27 page)

In fact, Blake even treated Tara with respect. She had expected his anger. Instead, out of love for Aileen, Blake was doing what she asked. How many men would be that giving?

Few Tara knew.

And how many sisters would accept what Aileen was accepting without bitterness or rancor?

Tara began to wonder what it would be like if Blake had that same regard for her. Marriage wouldn’t seem so stultifying then.

Right now, she didn’t know what to expect.

She’d accepted his proposal because she’d been afraid of being unimportant. He’d been everything she’d counted as needful in a husband. He was wealthy, and willing to pay her father for her hand, he was handsome, and he was popular. People respected him.

But was that enough?

Certainly, her father had never set a good example of what men and women of good sense should search for in a spouse. Her mother had died right after she was born. Aileen had been her parent, and nothing about her marriage to Geoff had made Tara anxious for the wedded state.

However, now, watching Blake and Aileen, Tara wondered if there couldn’t be something finer about marriage that should not be missed.

And she was beginning to question if she knew what love was.

Was it the side glances and whispers that Aileen and Blake shared? Or the contentment that seemed to have become a part of them, even when they were away from each other?

Tara didn’t know. And in truth, what happened between a man and a woman was still a bit of a mystery to her. The marriage act, as she understood it, did not sound pleasant. Once, a young matron had warned her it was messy. Tara had been afraid to ask her why.

If it was those things, they didn’t keep Aileen from stealing into Blake’s room each night.

And what would happen when
she
was married to Blake?

Tara found she didn’t care if he touched her or not.

And of course, the tension inside her was building. On Wednesday afternoon, while her father was self-importantly entertaining the duke and the boring Arthur, she searched for a moment of peace with a ride.

The thought of exercise and fresh air seemed like a piece of heaven.

She entered the stable yard to come upon a very angry Blake holding his friend Sir Nolan Ogilvy by the scruff of the neck and the seat of his pants. He was ready to fling a flailing Sir Nolan into the long horse trough.

The scene was almost comical. Blake was a head taller than the redheaded Sir Nolan and weighed more. He appeared as if he could juggle the man if he so desired.

Angus and the stable lads had grins of approval on their faces as they watched—however, upon her arrival, their attitudes changed immediately. Angus cleared his throat as a warning and sent a pointed look in her direction.

Blake caught sight of her and put Sir Nolan on the ground. “Hello, my lady,” he said.

Sir Nolan, his balance wobbly, tried to bow and muttered a greeting.

Tara approached them. “What is going on here?” she demanded.

“Nothing, my lady,” Sir Nolan said. “Just a disagreement between friends.”

In truth, she didn’t like Sir Nolan. He had a pompous sense of his own importance, but then, most men in government did. He had pursued her once. She had used all her wiles to avoid his making an offer, but he had been persistent. He’d proposed and she’d said no—a decision that he had not accepted kindly.

She supposed it should have been to his credit that he was here for the wedding. He was Blake’s guest, not hers.

Tara looked to Blake. “This is the way you treat your friends?”

“I beg your pardon, my lady.” His tone was cool, derisive. “I no longer count Sir Nolan as one of my friends.”

“Oh, please, Stephens. I was just having some sport.”

“In what way, Sir Nolan?” Tara asked.

Dull red stained his cheeks. “In a man way.”

“A man way?” Tara queried.

“He made a rude comment about your sister,” Blake said. “About the sort of woman he thought she was.”

Tara’s temper flared. “Indeed, Sir Nolan?”

A wise man would apologize.

Sir Nolan was not wise.

“She is not like you, my lady,” he said. “I have the highest respect for you.”

“And for my sister?” she prodded.

His shoulders tightened. “Her reputation is not the best,” he insisted. “This should be no surprise to you and certainly does not reflect upon my regard for you or Stephens.”

“I see,” Tara answered, and she did. She saw very clearly.

With both hands, she pushed Sir Nolan in the chest. He fell backward and splashed into the horse trough.

A cry of approval went up from the stable lads, who had not taken their eyes off the exchange. Sir Nolan spit water and sputtered. Tara had no sympathy for him.

She picked his hat up off the ground and threw it at him before ordering, “Angus, bring Sir Nolan’s horse over here. He is leaving.”

Then addressing Sir Nolan, she said, “Your invitation to the wedding breakfast was obviously a mistake. Ride back to London, sir, and tell everyone how you’ve been treated. And let them know that if
anyone
thinks to say a word against
my
sister in my hearing, they shall receive the same treatment.”

On those words, she went marching for the house, so full of steam it was a wonder she didn’t fly. She’d reached the line of beech trees when Blake caught up with her. He took her arm and swung her around. Only then did she realize he’d been calling her name.

“What do
you
want?” Tara demanded crossly.

“Nothing,” he said, holding his hands out as if to show he meant no harm. “Except to say that was excellent, Tara. I did not know you had that in you.”

“Had what?” she said, placing her gloved hands on her hips.

“That love for your sister.”

That remark struck right where she felt the most guilt. And she was not going to discuss it with him. She started to walk away, but he hurried to place himself in her path.

For a moment they stood. She refused to look up at him. He seemed to wait.

Hell would freeze over before she would speak.

He broke the silence first. “Thank you. Aileen means everything to me. I might have killed the man. My intent was to drown him in the trough.”

“And been hanged for it. How anyone thought to knight Nolan Ogilvy is a mystery.”

He laughed, the sound genuine.

She shifted her weight and glanced toward the house, her plans for riding forgotten. “Is that all you wished to say to me?” She’d brought haughtiness back in her voice, knowing it would annoy him.

Blake stepped back, his disappointment in her change of attitude clear.

Tara took a step past him but stopped. “Guilt is an uncomfortable emotion. I don’t enjoy it. I’m usually very honest with myself and others.”

“Of course,” he murmured.

He was so handsome standing in his riding clothes. At some point he’d lost his hat, so the wind ruffled his dark hair . . . and yet his looks did not move her the way Ruary’s had.

“I want to cry off, Blake—”

His eyes lit with happiness.

“—but I can’t,” she finished. “I know I’ve treated you shabbily. This whole state of affairs is my fault. If I hadn’t bolted on you . . . ?” She left the question up in the air to say with a new understanding, “I’ve probably disrespected
many
men in the worst way. Although I will not apologize for rejecting Sir Nolan.”

“Completely understood,” Blake said. “I’d not seen that side of him before. Not until he had the stupidity to speak of your sister with disrespect.”

“You would have seen it if you’d been female. He is quite aggressive.” She sighed, heartsick. “If I don’t marry you, then they shall talk of me the way they do Aileen. They already call me a man eater.” She shrugged. “But this will be different. Sometimes the expectations in London are very high—”

“You don’t need those people, Tara.”

“What do you want me to do? Stay here in the valley, waiting for time to pass before I can return to town?”

“You could do worse, Tara.”

“But if I wait, I’ll be too old to return. I am already growing too old.”

Blake tilted back his head and laughed. “What are you, all of one and twenty? Tara, you have a life ahead of you.” He took a step toward her and placed his hands on her arms. “Don’t make a decision out of fear. There is too much at stake. Not just for Aileen and myself, but for you as well.”

She shook him off, backing away, not knowing if she trusted him.

Not knowing if she trusted herself.

She hurried to the house.

T
ara spent the night before her marriage alone in her room.

Most weddings in the valley were cause for days of celebration, including a few rowdy tricks played on the bride and groom before the wedding night. They were a preparation for the most raucous of pranks, when the guests would carry the bride to her groom on that special night of all nights.

It was all in good fun, but Tara had let it be known she wanted none of that. No, her wedding had taken on a definitely more somber tone.

Still, the servants were excited. Ellen worried over what dress her mistress should wear, and should Tara’s hair be styled up or left to curl around her shoulders?

But for Tara, that night before her wedding was one of deep introspection.

She remembered when Aileen had left for London. Losing the sister she had depended upon for so much had been frightening. But Tara had overcome those fears. She’d also taken on some resentment, she realized. Yes, she had let Aileen go, but she’d started to assume then a feeling that she would always be left behind.

Tara sat in the middle of her bed, her legs crossed, stunned by the possibility behind those revelations.

“Perhaps I want someone who is wholly devoted to me?” she whispered. The words sounded magical in their meaning. But then, no one had ever been that way toward her. Not Aileen. Not Blake. Not Ruary.

In truth, there was only one person who could save her.

The next morning, when Ellen came in to prepare Tara for the wedding, she was surprised to see her mistress already up, dressed and anxious to go to the church.

A
ileen was to ride in the coach with Tara. Blake had gone to meet the duke and marquis at the Kenmore Inn and would be waiting at the church when they arrived.

The duke had actually expected Blake to stay with them. Blake had refused, which had surprised Aileen. She had told him she did not feel comfortable in his bed the night before he married, but he’d informed her that he still needed to be close to her. In the end, she had not been able to resist.

They’d spent a good long time last evening playing chess—and she’d beaten him for the first time.

But it would be the last time they were together.

The earl had happily decided to spend the night at the Kenmore Inn as well. He had become fast friends with Blake’s cronies. They were gamblers at heart, and, of course, he had to be amongst them. He left it to Aileen to see that Tara arrived when she should.

Little did he know how much he asked of her.

Over the past week, there had been moments when Aileen had feared she was so disconsolate her heart would stop. It took all the courage she possessed to hold her head high and go through the motions of living. The only time she’d been truly alive had been with Blake.

The day of the wedding was a good one. A warm breeze gently blew fat white clouds in the sky. It had rained a bit the day before, and the world was green and fresh.

Aileen waited in the front hall while Mrs. Watson went upstairs to fetch Tara. The servants were lined up to see the bride. Even the stable lads were out on the drive, lined up by Angus to pay their respects to the youngest mistress.

There was a sound at the top of the stairs. Those in the hall looked up as Tara came down the stairs, moving with such grace that she seemed to float toward them. Ellen and Mrs. Watson followed her.

Aileen had never seen her sister look so beautiful.

Tara wore a snowy white muslin dress trimmed in layers of her favorite Belgian lace in her favorite hue of blue. She held a prayer book in her lace-gloved hands, and her hair was styled high on her head. Small flowers, fashioned from the same lace, pinned her curls in place. The white brought out the vivid coloring of her hair and the lace the cornflower blue of her eyes.

But what truly caught the eye was the look of serenity upon Tara’s face. She appeared happy and relaxed in a way Aileen had never seen before.

“Aileen, you look lovely,” Tara said when she came off the last step.

“You are a beautiful bride,” Aileen answered and meant the words. “You outshine all of us.”

Indeed, there was no way Aileen could ever compete with her sister, although she had tried to look her best. She wore a dress of layers of soft green muslin. The gown was from her married days. Her hair was braided and fashioned into her usual knot at the nape of her neck. She wore a straw hat trimmed in green ribbons a shade darker than the dress.

However, Blake would not notice her when confronted with the spectacular vision Tara made.

And that was as it should be, she reminded herself.

“We’d best be going,” Aileen said, shepherding her sister toward the coach. Tara seemed as if she was in no hurry but was rather enjoying the moment. She smiled and teased the stable lads, who blushed just looking at her.

Then, piled into the coach and with a crack of the whip, they were off for Kenmore Kirk.

They were surprised to see folks lined up on the road, hoping for a glimpse of Tara. She didn’t disappoint. She smiled and waved to everyone.

“This is like London,” she said. “When we went to big events, there was always a crowd.”

“Well, you will be back there soon,” Aileen said.

Tara didn’t answer. Some children ran along the side of the coach, calling out, “My lady.” Aileen was surprised when Tara pulled out a small bag of halfpennies. “I always wanted to do this,” Tara said as she threw coins to them. “It is for good luck. Here, throw one.”

Aileen did. The coin was caught by Hannah Menzies’s oldest son, a lad of twelve. “Let me have another one,” Aileen said, holding out her hand.