Never Broken (21 page)

Elspeth lifted her chin. Now that she’d made her decision, she wasn’t budging from her course. “I never regret anything, Lorna. You can be assured of that. Now that we have come to an understanding, resume the packing. My father awaits my return.”

When Iain reached the edge of
the village, he was shocked by what he saw. Ross’s agent, with the help of several men armed with torches and guns, was forcing the villagers out of their small turf cottages, barely giving them time to gather their belongings. For the most part, forceful tactics weren’t needed, as the tenants poured out of their homes peacefully and headed away from the village.

Rage filled Iain as he ran toward them. He stopped one man, who had a blanket filled with his possessions hoisted over his shoulder. “How can you leave like this? Will ye not fight?”

The man looked at him with empty eyes. “Fight the laird? Nay, lad.” He kept right on walking. Iain followed beside him, frustration rising with every step.

“We canna let him do this! When will it stop? When all Scotsmen are pushed out of their own country?”

The man said nothing. He simply kept walking, following the flow of people heading west.

Iain halted and watched the procession. Entire families with their children were pushing loaded handcarts carrying their few possessions. The elderly were lifted on makeshift travois and stretchers. A few of the women and children cried, but most of the villagers remained stoic, their backs ramrod straight. They held on to the only thing they would never give up—their dignity.

Iain’s gaze darted as he saw the evictions. Had it really come to this? Had the lairds finally broken their clansmen’s spirits? It appeared they had.

Accepting there was nothing he could do in the village, Iain headed home, his heart heavy. Childhood memories washed over him in a sorrowful wave as he remembered his father and other clansmen being forced from their homes. The Glencalvie clearance was orderly in comparison. At least their turf cottages were not set on fire or their land laid waste. At least no one had been killed because of their rebellion. Yet it weighed heavily on him that not a single person was willing to fight for their home or their land.

As he emerged from the valley and reached the top of the hill, terror razored through him as he saw his mother and sister escorted by a land agent into the Mackay cottage. Iain raced to the cottage and flung the door open. His mother stood in the middle of the room, Blaire hiding behind her skirt.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the agent said, holding a piece of parchment in his hands. “I have direct orders from the laird himself to remove you from the premises.”

“Ma,” Iain said, approaching her. He tamped down his own anger and fear at the stricken look on his mother’s face. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “I told you to go to Dryden’s.”

“We did,” his mother said, her voice trembling. “But he turned us away.”

Iain blinked with shock. “Did you ask for Elspeth like I said?”

“Aye. She’s the one who gave the order.”

“You expected Miss Ross to respond differently?” The man smirked. “The lady is in the midst of readying for her return to London. She doesn’t have time to pander to an old woman and her brat.”

He clenched his fists. “Leave before I throw you out.”

The agent turned around, his thin face the picture of calm. He was so wan and slender Iain could have crushed him with his bare hands, but the man remained unfazed. “As I told the lady here, I have an order…”

“I don’t care about your orders!” Iain lunged at him.

With one swift, controlled movement, the agent whipped out a pistol.

Iain froze.

“I would rethink your actions if I were you.” He leveled the gun at Iain’s chest. “If you wish to live, that is.”

Iain balled his fists until spasms of pain flowed through his fingers.

“Dear God, son, let the man have his way.”

Iain looked to this mother and saw that her entire body quaked. Behind her, Blaire cried, her tiny mewls clutching his heart. Reluctantly, he took a step back.

“Wise decision, lad,” the man said. “Now, I have a decree to remove you, Iain Mackay, and any other residents of this,” he glanced around the tiny cottage, “hut, and I am generous in describing it as such. If you do not comply, I am allowed to use any force necessary.”

“This is my land.” Iain ground out the words.

“Correction, this is Mr. Dryden’s land, who rents it from John Ross. As the landowner, Mr. Ross is allowed to do as he pleases with the chattel squatting here.”

Iain ground his teeth but remained quiet.

“You may gather your meager belongings but do it quickly, then be on your way. The laird wants his land cleared posthaste.”

“Where will we go?” Ma held Blaire close. “The tenants are being evicted from Glencalvie. There’s no one else to take us in.”

“That is none of my concern.” The agent turned sharply on his heel and exited the cottage.

Blair sobbed hysterically. “Mamma, mamma.”

His mother knelt down and clung to her daughter. She looked up at Iain, tears shining in her eyes. “Iain?” was all she managed to say.

Reining in his anger, he knelt by his mother and sister. “Take Blaire and head west,” he said, forcing his tone to remain calm and even. Blaire was terrified, and he feared his mother was well on her way to becoming so. She’d had to endure forced eviction twice now. “Follow the villagers. I know not where they’re goin’, but as long as you stay with them, you’ll be safe.”

She nodded. “Aye.”

Blaire stared up at him, her large eyes wide with fright, her nose red from crying. She flew out of her mother’s arms and into Iain’s. “Please Iain, don’t leave us!”

“Nay, little one. I will never leave you.” He stroked her hair as she leaned her cheek against his chest, her sobs growing louder. “My delay will be a short one. I have some business to tend to, then I’ll join you soon.”

He could hear his mother breathe a sigh of relief. He realized that she too had thought he was abandoning them.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he said, drawing his mother and Blaire close to him. “You can count on that. I’ll meet up with you as soon as I can.” He released them from his embrace and stood.

“Where are you going?” Ma asked.

He looked at her. John Ross wasn’t going to get away with this. Neither was his daughter. Elspeth might have sent his mother and sister away, but he would not be dispensed of so easily. “To get our land back,” he said, then turned and stalked out the door.

Elspeth adjusted the ostrich
feather pinned on her traveling hat. Her nausea had disappeared, thankfully, replaced by a heightened sense of anticipation. She was more than ready to be on her way to London. “Lorna, is everything ready?”

“Aye, m’lady. Yer many, many trunks are piled high on the coach. ‘Twill be a miracle if the vehicle doesn’t tip over.”

Elspeth gave the dour old woman an exaggerated, false smile. “I won’t let your sour mood dampen my enthusiasm. Now be gone. I shall join you downstairs in a few minutes. I want to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”

Lorna left the room, practically slamming the door behind her.

Elspeth touched her temple. Somehow she’d have to endure Lorna’s foul mood on the long ride back to London. She scowled. How dare her maid be disappointed in her? More worrisome was why Elspeth cared.

She glanced around the room, which looked exactly the same as it had when she arrived. She avoided looking at the bed, determined to have no regrets.

The sound of the bedroom window opening made her jump. Spinning around, she gasped as Iain vaulted into her room.

His boots were caked with mud. His shirt, open to the middle of his broad chest, was soaked with sweat. Smudges of grime dotted his face, and she noticed his hand and nails were brown and filthy. He had never come to her in such a state. He looked exactly like the peasant farmer he was.

Still, her heart pounded fiercely in her chest at the sight of him.

His handsome, dirt smudged face contorted into a sneer. “Going somewhere, m’lady?”

His tone stilled the warmth running through her veins. He hadn’t called her m’lady in a long time, not since that night months ago when he had said her name for the first time. His eyes flashed fiery anger, another emotion she hadn’t seen from him lately. Dread pooled in her belly as he approached her. She gathered her wits. Better to deal with the situation as one would remove a thorn—with efficient speed. “My father has summoned me home.”

“So I’ve heard.”

She waited for him to say more, but he remained as silent as the stones in the room’s hearth. Wilting a bit beneath his glare she said, “Apparently he misses me and cannot stand to have me away any longer. As he is getting along in years, I thought I’d play the dutiful daughter and do his bidding.”

“Since when have you ever been a dutiful daughter?”

Elspeth ignored his remark. She had never revealed her previous marriage to Iain, or how Clive and his family had destroyed her self-worth. Iain wasn’t allowed to glimpse that part of her past. No one was. She started to turn away when his words stopped her.

“I find your sense of timin’ impeccable,” he said. “Then again it always has been, hasn’t it?” He drew closer. “Mayhap his desire to have you back has nothing to do with missin’ you and everythin’ to do with his hellish plans.”

“Hellish plans? Iain, it’s not like you to be so dramatic. Besides, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Have you not? You stand there, after everythin’ that’s happened between us, and lie to my face? You turn your back on my mother and sister then have the gall to deny it?”

Elspeth raised her hands, completely at sea. “Iain, I promise I am not lying.” At least about this. “Seeing as I’ve never met your family, how could I possibly turn them away?”

Doubt crept into his expression. “You dinna know, then?”

She shook her head.

“Your father.” He swallowed. “He’s cleared the tenants. All of Glencalvie … and me.”

Elspeth stiffened. Now it all made sense. What Lorna said about Dryden being on edge, along with her father’s sudden desperation to have his daughter home. Father wanted her out of danger while he drove the people off the land.

She suddenly remembered Lorna coming into her room earlier in the day, soon after their argument over the baby. She had mentioned something about two pesky peasants who wanted to see her. Frustrated and preoccupied, Elspeth had dismissed Lorna with a wave of her hand, telling her maid to deal with them on her own.

A cold knot formed in her stomach.

Iain’s expression softened. “You really dinna know?”

“No,” she said slowly. “I didn’t.” Would it have mattered if she had? She didn’t want to deal with Iain, much less his family. Or his baby. Lorna only did what Elspeth would have done.

She met his gaze. His brown eyes transformed from cold and accusing to warm and hopeful. Her hand went to her belly with a will of its own. Once she realized what she’d done, she put both her hands behind her back.

He moved so close she could smell the soil on him, the aroma of dirt and sweat. Her stomach turned, and she pulled back from him.

He didn’t seem to notice her withdrawal. “You can help us, Elspeth,” he pleaded. “Stop your father’s madness. Tell him about the villagers, how they’ve lived in peace for generations. Remind him how they’ve never been in arrears, and have always been loyal to him.” He paused, his eyes turning the smoky brown hue she was so familiar with. He gathered her hands into his and pressed them against his chest. “Tell him about us, Elspeth. About how we love each other.”

Something shifted inside her. He was begging and it was pathetic. Gone was the strong, independent man who made her blood run hot by the mere thought of him. He had turned into a mewling shell of a being, hiding behind a woman’s skirt, wanting her to put herself at risk for the sake of a few backward peasants.

She jerked her hands from his. “Really, Iain. Do you think I have any sway over my father? Even if I wanted to appeal to him on your behalf, I couldn’t. How would that make me look to society, pleading the cause of some lowly Scottish farmer? They would all think me mad.”

The smokiness slid from his eyes, replaced by confusion. She continued to drive her verbal daggers home.

“And what is this great love you speak of? It’s laughable to think about, of course. A future for you and me is out of the question. I thought you knew that. It’s not as if I led you to believe anything different.”