The Bride Says No Read Online Free PDF Page A

the breeding program was not by his hard work. That was owed to another—and she wondered if he was there.
    Through the trees, she glimpsed a handsome, big-boned bay tethered to the hitching post. Her heart sprang to life.
    Ruary Jamerson was here . His presence at this very moment of her homecoming had to be a divine sign.
    Aileen might not believe in love, but Tara did.
    She turned and took two steps, ready to run down to the stables, but then paused.
    What was she going to say? What should she say?
    She’d been so intent on coming back to him that she hadn’t given a thought of how she would explain herself. It had been three years since they’d had that last argument. Three years since she’d spurned his suit and walked away.
    But Ruary had never left her thoughts. He was the man by which she had judged all others. She’d even dreamed of him. Indeed, the closer the time had drawn toward her wedding, the more frequent and vivid her dreams had become, until she’d faced the truth a week ago: she loved Ruary Jamerson, and she always would. She just hadn’t realized it until that moment and with a wedding to another man staring her in the face.
    She caught a glimpse of herself in the looking glass above her dressing table. She’d changed over the years. Her looks had matured, sharpened. Gone was the softness of youth. She was a woman now, one who finally knew her own mind.
    And one who was dressed in a lad’s garb and smelled foul of her own odor and sweat.
    Tara began ripping off her clothes and within seconds was scrubbing herself in the tub. The fine-milled soap smelled of lavender, and she lathered herself twice to be certain the stench was gone.
    Mrs. Watson had already hung a few of the dresses from Tara’s portmanteau in the room’s wardrobe, and she’d placed shoes and smallclothes in the drawers. Tara grabbed the first garment available, a creamy gauze trimmed in her favorite Belgian lace. Was it too fancy for Annefield? She didn’t care. She couldn’t waste a second longer before confessing her love to Ruary and begging his forgiveness.
    Within minutes she was out the door.

Chapter Two
    T he chestnut challenged him on this clear summer day. The horse’s nostrils flared and he kept his head high, pulling on the lead line, but Ruary Jamerson was patient. He’d not met a horse yet he could not conquer. His pride demanded it. And this stallion was a beauty. With his spirited nature, he would win races from here to Newmarket, which would please the earl of Tay and burnish Ruary’s growing reputation as a top-notch trainer.
    Stone and timber stalls lined the yard in a horseshoe shape. Ruary believed horses learned more by watching each other than they did from any man. The lads laughed at him, but his methods worked. Annefield had produced two renowned racehorses, and this chestnut could be the third. Already there was a list of buyers interested in him.
    The fourth wall held a wide entryway lined with storage and grain rooms. Vehicles, plows, rakes and the like, along with cows, chickens and pigs, were kept in the other barn off and away from the horses.
    Annefield was a large estate, but it was no longer Ruary’s only stable. He now trained horses throughout this area of Scotland and had received offers from as far away as the Netherlands. Not that he would ever leave the Tay Valley. This was his home.
    Keeping a critical eye on the bay, Ruary said to the stable lads watching him work, “I see no lameness.” He held up the lead, a signal for the colt to slow down. “Exercise him on the morrow. Our regular schedule, but start him easy. Build him up to gallop the last three-eighths and we’ll go from there.”
    “Aye, Mr. Jamerson,” Angus, the head groom, said. “Will you be here for the morning ride?”
    “I’m not planning to be,” Ruary answered. “Breccan Campbell wants me to look over some stock. I’ll come later.” He started gathering the colt’s line. The horse followed, his head