The Bride Says Maybe Read Free Page B

shoulders over it. His hands were the size of bear paws, and the cobbler always complained that his shoes required twice the amount of leather as a normal man.
    A normal man.
    A graceful one. A genteel one like his cousin Owen Campbell or any of the other of that side of the family. They all compared Breccan to a great ox and considered him as dumb as one. It was a grand joke amongst them. He would never be thought of as a gentleman or expected to cut a fine figure on the dance floor the way they did.
    In truth, he was bloody tired of being mocked for his size. Aye, his great strength was good for chopping wood or for working his lands. There were few chores he could not do. Even the blacksmith would ask him to lift his anvil for him. But Breccan also had to watch his every move. If he was not mindful of his actions, he would swing his arm and put a dent in a plaster wall or knock over his chair if he moved too quickly.
    And the worst was people’s believing he lacked intelligence. They talked to him as if he were slow.
    But their opinions would change when they saw him with Lady Tara on his arm. A man was not only respected if he had a beautiful wife, people were jealous of him.
    There was also another reason he wanted to marry her—the Black Campbells were not a handsome lot.
    Breccan’s own mother had been a good woman but a homely one. And, for all his blather, Jonas didn’t have a lady. Lachlan had been married once, but he was alone now. The Black Campbells were harsh-looking men. They had strong noses and jaws that were too square. While the other side of the Campbells were fair of hair and skin, Breccan and his kin were swarthy, with the look of the Romany, an unfavorable comparison if ever there was one.
    Lady Tara would change that. She would give Breccan’s children the fairness he lacked. His sons and daughters would be accepted. All doors would be open to them.
    But these reasons were not ones Breccan wished to share with his uncles.
    “I want her because I want her,” he replied to Lachlan.
    His uncle gazed up the mist-covered road a moment before saying, “A wife is not like owning a dog, Breccan. They have a will of their own.”
    “Aye, women can be pesky,” Jonas agreed. “Your mother was a saint, bless her soul, but she was the exception. Lasses like her are rare. Women, as a rule, are demanding. They can make a man’s life hell.”
    “If that was the case, why do so many men marry?” Breccan returned.
    “That’s a question every man has asked himself after the wedding,” Lachlan assured him in jest. Jonas laughed his agreement.
    Breccan straightened his shoulders and lifted his reins. “I must marry to keep the line alive, or would you rather have Wolfstone fall into the hands of Breadalbane to be turned over to one such as Owen Campbell?”
    “Of course you must marry,” Jonas said. “But not this woman.” He kicked his horse forward as if to block Breccan’s way. “I’ve seen her. She’s a lovely morsel, but a pasty thing. There are kelpies bigger than her. You would split her in half, lad. You need a woman with some meat on her bones. One with breasts the size of melons.” His eyes brightened with appreciation for the image he was conjuring.
    Breccan didn’t share his joy. Once again, his size was mentioned; however, for a second, his certitude wavered. Could he hurt Lady Tara? He wanted bairns off of her, but he didn’t want to physically harm her to beget them.
    Lachlan seemed to sense his indecision although he might not know its cause. “It’s your choice whether we go up that road or not, Laird,” he said quietly. “We’ll follow, Jonas complaining as we go. You know how he is.”
    “I’m not complaining,” Jonas shot back. “I’m being sensible. You want a wife, we’ll find you one, Breccan. But this Davidson lass is not the one. Besides, nothing good comes of any Davidson. Do you not remember the tale of how Darius Davidson cheated our grandfather out of ten