Never Broken (22 page)

“You said you loved me.”

With a shrug she responded, “I said a lot of things.” She didn’t fear his wrath anymore, not when she’d seen him practically on his knees in front of her. She couldn’t abide a weak man. “You poor thing. I can see that you thought differently. Oh, well, ’tis not my fault you’ve become a fool.”

He regarded her for a moment, his gaze raking over her sage-green traveling outfit. Then he grabbed her by the waist, yanked her to him, and brought his mouth down on hers in a crushing kiss until she thought he would pull the breath from her.

She managed to wriggle her hands between their bodies and give him a hard shove. Finally, he broke the contact.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she looked down at her gown and surveyed the damage. Mud streaked the delicate fabric. “My dress!” She glared at him. “Get out of my room or I shall ring for Dryden himself.”

He flung her from him with such force she crashed against the door behind her. She remained upright, her legs trembling, her head spinning from the jolt.

A long moment of silence passed between them as he stared at her, his face expressionless. “I feel sorry for you,” he finally said.

She touched her hat, which sat now askew on her head. “Sorry for me? At least I have a home to go to. You have nothing. Which is more than you deserve.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, m’lady.” He backed away from her as he moved toward the window. “I have my conscience, and ’tis a clear one. I wouldn’t want to live with yours.” He paused. “The blood of the villagers is on your hands, m’lady. Never forget that.” He turned and scrambled out the window.

Elspeth swallowed hard. With shaky hands, she slowly straightened her hat and smoothed her skirts. She brushed the dirt from Iain’s touch off her body, found her monogrammed linen handkerchief, and scrubbed the last of his kiss from her lips. The peasants were not her responsibility. It was up to them to forge a new life of their own, just as she was planning to do for herself.

As she headed out the door to her waiting carriage, she expelled Iain from her mind and heart. As soon as she reached London and consulted a certain countess, she’d make sure there was nothing left in her life of Iain Mackay.

The sun was well below the
horizon by the time Iain reached the little church at Croick where the Glencalvie villagers had found refuge. A cold rain had fallen steadily all afternoon, soaking him straight through. The rain had brought with it a sharp wind, but he didn’t feel the chill. All he felt was anger and betrayal.

He had been a fool to fall in love with Elspeth. To succumb to her beauty and wiles and to think they could have had a future together. He was a bigger fool to believe she would lift a privileged finger to help anyone but herself.

And what did he get for his foolishness? A broken heart, one he was piecing back together with patches of fury and hatred. He would never let himself be vulnerable again. Not to any man. Not to any woman. No one could be trusted. He would never forget that.

When he reached the church, he mustered very little emotion for the pitiful sight before him. Behind the small building, a makeshift fabric roof was attached to two poles, providing paltry shelter from the incessant rain. Two weak peat fires smoked from under the tarpaulin. Several unattended children played near them, jumping in puddles and throwing clods of mud at each other. The cries of babies and the weeping of mothers could be heard in the background. Men held their heads in their hands. The elderly prayed.

Iain cursed them all. They had refused to fight. Now all they had was a cold, tiny church to shelter them.

He walked inside, searching for his mother and Blaire. He saw an old man using a rusty blade to scratch something on one of the windows. Iain read the inscription as he passed by.

Glencalvie people, the wicked generation.

Iain grit his teeth. The true wicked generation were the lairds and their selfish spawns. They deserved to be punished. They deserved to suffer.

One day, he vowed, they would.

Mary Mackay and her
family stayed at Croick for nearly a week, the rain never ceasing. During that time, she went from being worried about her son to not recognizing him anymore. The clearing of Glencalvie had plunged him deep into himself. His eyes were empty, his voice flat when he spoke. He looked at everyone around him with contempt, although he did help the men cut a fresh supply of peat for the fires when asked. Only Blaire could get him to speak a few words, and they were cursory at best. Most of the time he spent alone, separated from the rest of the group, except when he left the church, presumably to find them a new home.

Mary, on the other hand, poured herself into helping the other women care for the children who quickly became bored. They were stuck in the church and wanted to go home. The older ones understood what had happened, but the younger ones could not fathom it. Mary watched with a heavy heart as mothers and fathers tried to explain to their wee ones why they couldn’t return to the village. It brought back the time she had to explain to Iain why they had to leave Strathnaver and why his father was so despondent. She could see some of these children react the same way Iain had—with anger and frustration. Some, however, accepted their fate with dull complacency. Neither reaction was good, and none of it was fair.

She knew, perhaps more than most, that life was not always fair. Yet that didn’t mean she wouldn’t press on, that she wouldn’t see the good in the world among the desolation.

Two days after their arrival at Croick, Mary was encouraged that life still offered hope when Lillian, Fiona’s daughter, gave birth to a healthy baby boy, naming him Malcolm after his father. The elder Malcolm showed off his new son to everyone from the village, and they all celebrated with him. Blaire’s face filled with joy when she was given the chance to hold the tiny baby, settling him in her lap and stroking his downy soft cheek.

When it was Mary’s turn to hold wee Malcolm, she sought out her own son. She found him in the corner of the church, using a twig to scratch out something on the dirt floor.

“Isn’t he a bonny lad, Iain?” Mary knelt down beside him and showed him the baby. “Reminds me a bit of you, only much smaller of course.” She chuckled.

Iain didn’t reply or look at the baby. He simply continued drawing with the twig, sketching lines that looked like paths or roads.

Mary sighed inwardly. There was nothing to be done with Iain, at least right now. He needed time to accept what had happened. She stood and was surprised when Iain rose with her, brushing dust from his hands.

“We leave in the morn,” he said shortly. “Tell Blaire.”

Mary frowned. “Leave for where?”

“The Lowlands. Some have already headed south. Word is that many Irish are also there.”

Little Malcolm started to cry. Mary held him close and stroked his back to comfort him. “Why?”

“They have been cleared from their lands by famine and rich landowners who care little for their fate.” He turned to her, a dead look in his eyes. “Seems we have somethin’ in common, now.”

“Surely we can find another place nearby…”

“We canna live here anymore.” He raised his voice as the baby’s wails grew louder. “We own nothin’. We have almost no money. Whatever poor crofter will take us in, even if we find one who would be willin’, would eventually clear us out again. Some of the villages surroundin’ us have been told not to open their doors a’tall, or risk gettin’ evicted themselves. At least in the Lowlands I can find a job. We won’t be owned by devils who care nothing for a fellow human bein’.”

“All right.” Mary didn’t like the idea of leaving her beloved Highlands, but she understood her son’s argument. She doubted she could sway him even if she disagreed. “I’ll let Blaire know.”

Iain crouched down and started scratching in the dirt again. Mary looked at him for a moment before taking Malcolm back to his mother, who immediately soothed the hungry babe with her breast.

As Mary turned away from the nursing infant, an unexpected feeling of peace settled over her. She was stunned that she could feel serene amidst this suffering and uncertainty. Yet, she did, because whether they lived in the Highlands or Lowlands, among Scottish or Irish, it didn’t matter. Her family was together. She said a small prayer, gathering great comfort in knowing God would take care of them, no matter where they ended up. Somehow she had to convince Iain of that truth. He was turning into his father, and that was something she couldn’t let happen.

A man is a lion in his own cause.

Scottish Proverb

Glasgow

December 1846

It was a bitterly cold day
when Rory, Shannon, and Ainslee arrived in Glasgow. The wind off the frigid Irish Sea burned their cheeks and chilled their bones. Rory was glad to be off the ship, having spent most of the grueling trip fighting seasickness. Shannon and Ainslee had fared much better. The rocking motion of the waves that tortured Rory hadn’t seemed to trouble them.

Like Cork, the docks in Glasgow teemed with people. Irish brogues and Scottish burrs clashed in a disharmony of Gaelic, Irish, and English. Ainslee and Shannon stared wide-eyed at the foreign land around them.

Rory gripped his suitcase; had he done the right thing? Perhaps he should have looked harder for a job in Cork. Or suggested they go to Dublin. But each time he questioned himself he always came to the same conclusion. There was no future for them in Ireland. He and the Cahill sisters would begin new lives in Glasgow.

Fear filled him at the thought. Not only was he responsible for all three of their futures, he was also betrothed. He had no doubts about his love for Shannon or that he wanted to marry her. But the timing couldn’t be worse. He had no job, little money, and worst of all, no security. He didn’t want his life with her to start off in such dire straits. He wanted to wait until he could provide her the life she deserved.

“Rory?”

He glanced at Shannon, who was smiling. With that one gesture his panic subsided. She was his anchor, the one he reached for when his fears started to overtake him. She also seemed to sense when he needed her most. She slipped her hand into his, and he held on tight. “Welcome to our new home,” he said.

“’Tis different than Ballyclough, but we’ll be happy here.

With renewed confidence, they left the docks. The city bustled all around them. People filled the streets, some hurrying to get to their destinations, others touting wares from street-side stands. Rory ignored all of it as he quickened his steps.

“Do you know where we’re goin’, Rory?” Ainslee asked as they continued to fight the crowds.

“Aye.” He retrieved a slip of paper from the pocket of his damp coat. There were three words scribbled on it, the letters written by his hand.
Ship Bank Tavern
. “You’ll find a friendly face there,” a man in Cork had assured him. “’Tis where an Irishman can feel at home.”

Desperate for some familiarity, he continued to search for the pub. After stopping and asking a few people directions to the tavern, he finally located it.

“This is it?” Shannon asked, peeking through the foggy window. Amber light glowed behind the glass pane.

Rory heard the muffled sound of loud voices and hearty laughter. He paused before opening the door. “I’m thinkin’ you two should stay out here,” he said.

Shannon gripped the sleeve of his coat. Without looking at her face, he knew she had been putting on a façade. They all were. He took her hand. “A tavern is not a place for two ladies. I’m not willin’ for anythin’ to happen to either of you.”

“All right.” Shannon released his hand. “We’ll wait here.”

He didn’t want to leave her or Ainslee alone on the street, but it had to be done. Unable to resist, he quickly soothed Shannon’s fear with a light kiss on the cheek then nodded at Ainslee. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

When he entered the tavern, he surveyed the place. It was similar to the pub in Cork. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light and thick smoke. When they finally did, he took in the clientele, mostly burly men drinking whiskey, smoking, and speaking in raucous tones. Among them, a few women flirted with the men and served drinks. He’d made the right decision in asking Shannon and Ainslee to wait outside.

Rory threaded his way through the tavern crowd until he reached the serving bar. Behind the long, splintered counter a cheery man with bright red hair and wide forearms poured a tall draught of beer and handed it to a man standing on the other side.

“Now, begone with ya!” he said with a laugh. “’Tis the last drink ye’ll be havin’ on my watch, ye drunken’ sot!”

The swaying man gripped the tankard with two hands, missing his mouth the first time he brought it to his lips. Ale dripped down his chin as he took a long pull. Wiping his bushy beard with the back of his hand, he gave the barkeep a tipsy salute then stumbled back to his table.

The bartender turned to Rory. “An’ what can I be gettin’ ye?”

“I’m not here for a drink,” Rory said.

The man grinned widely, revealing two missing bottom teeth. “Ah, some fresh blood, I see. Where in our sainted homeland are ye from, lad?”

“Cork,” Rory replied, still hanging on to his suitcase, feeling no need to give this stranger any further details. “We just arrived at the docks.”

“Aye. That I can see, for yer still a bit green ‘round the gills from the trip. How ‘bout a wee bit o’whiskey to settle yer stomach?”

“Thank you kindly, but I’ll have to decline.”

The man’s smile dimmed a bit. “Such high falutin’ language comin’ off yer tongue. Now I’m wonderin’ if yer truly Irish. What’s yer name, lad?”

“Rory. O’Leary,” he made sure to add.

The man tilted his head and regarded Rory for a moment. “Then I’ll have to take you at yer word and yer name that ye are an Irishman. Me name’s O’Connolly. Welcome to Glasgow, and all it has to offer. ‘Tis not as lovely as our Eire, nor as precious, but ye’ll find many a lost soul from the motherland here. Along with loads of Highlanders, too. I recommend ye befriend one or two, for once a Scot is in his cups, he’s very free with his money.”

“I’ll remember that.” Rory relaxed a bit. The man’s exuberance was almost contagious, and a wonderful thing to behold after so many months of misery. “My… cousins,” he said, watching his words carefully, “and I are lookin’ for a place to stay. Any recommendations?”

“Depends. How much money have ye got?” When Rory told him, O’Connolly frowned. “’Tis not much, lad. Not much at all. But there is a place ye can stay nearby, ‘bout three blocks or so. Rooms are cheap. Should be okay to put up there for a wee while.” O’Connolly gave him directions.

“My thanks.” Rory turned around and headed for the door, eager to leave and get settled.

“See ye ‘round, O’Leary!” O’Connolly called after him. “Ye’ll be back in ’ere soon. Everyone always is!”

Rory gave him a nod of the head but didn’t agree with his statement. He didn’t plan on returning to this tavern, or any other, despite the kindness of the owner. As he walked toward the door, he spotted a man downing a shot of amber liquid. He paused and watched as the tavern’s patrons drank ale and whiskey, smoked pipes, and told stories. Ship Bank Tavern truly was a little slice of home, and for a moment he was tempted to go back on his word and stay.

Shannon pressed her teeth
against her bottom lip and forced herself not to pace.

“Rory will be fine, Shannon.”

Shannon cast a look at Ainslee, who leaned against the brick wall of the tavern. The roles had somehow switched between them, with her sister showing her typical calm and Shannon unable to hide her nervousness. She’d kept up a good front with Rory, but she found that slipping away. Glasgow was nothing like Ballyclough or even Cork. She’d told Rory they would be happy here, but all she could think about right now was how much she wanted to be back in Ireland, something she wouldn’t admit out loud.

It will be better after Rory and I wed.
She clung to that hope, despite knowing Rory wanted to wait. She, however, wanted to be his wife as soon as possible. She loved him, wanted to be with him, and face their future together as a married couple.

Yet her motives for a quick wedding went deeper than those reasons. Her insecurity manifested itself in speculative doubts. If they waited, Rory might change his mind. All around her she saw women who were prettier than her, who had nicer clothes, who had more elegant bearings. Those were the women he was accustomed to in his social circle—not a peasant. Jealousy twisted inside when she thought of him with someone else. She mustn’t let that happen. She couldn’t lose him.

Ainslee put her hand on Shannon’s shoulder. “What’s troublin’ ye?”

“Nothin’.”

“Don’t lie. I know you better.”

Shannon looked into her sister’s blue eyes. Ainslee was still thin and pale, but Shannon could see an inner strength in her that had been missing since they left their parents. She noticed her sister spending time alone in prayer during the voyage from Ireland. Ainslee was regaining her faith while Shannon felt hers sliding through her fingers.

“Shannon, I know this will never be like home. I miss the lush green hills, too. I miss Ma and Da.” Tears shone in her eyes.

With a nod, Shannon swallowed the lump in her throat. “Don’t tell him I’m homesick. I don’t want him to worry any more than he already is.”

“I won’t.” Ainslee smiled. “He worries too much, methinks. But that is part of his nature. He’s a carin’ man.”

“Aye.”

“I imagine you two will be wed soon.”

Shannon blinked. She hadn’t mentioned anything to Ainslee about the night she had proposed to Rory. As she thought of the circumstances, her face heated. They hadn’t talked about their betrothal since, as Rory had been too sick on ship to do much of anything. Dread filled her. Had Ainslee been awake that night? “How did you know?”

“Because yer in love. And he is too. Anyone can see that.” She smiled. “I’m happy for you. I truly am.”

“Then you don’t think there’s any reason for us to wait to marry?”

Ainslee’s brow wrinkled. “Is that what he wants to do?”

Shannon nodded, glancing away.

“He’s concerned with findin’ us all a place to live,” Ainslee said. “Plus he’s wantin’ a job. We should find work, too.”

“I know. And I plan to.” Shannon threaded her fingers together. “But I don’t want to put off marrying him until we all find jobs.”

“Then perhaps you should tell him. ’Tis important to be honest with him. If you can’t talk about this, then maybe you should do as he says and wait. Perhaps you aren’t ready to be wed.”

That wasn’t what Shannon wanted to hear, even though she knew Ainslee was right. Before she could answer, Rory came out of the tavern. Needing the security his presence gave her, Shannon threaded her arm through his.

“Did you find a place?” Ainlsee asked.

“Aye, a tenement, not far from here. Let’s go. I for one am tired of bein’ out in the cold.”

Rory charged ahead. Shannon struggled to keep up with his pace, and eventually released his arm. He didn’t seem to notice. His gaze remained straight ahead, his strides long and purposeful. She tried to ignore another sting of rejection and slowed her steps until she was beside Ainslee.

For several minutes, they didn’t say anything and followed Rory as they had since he found them on the Cork docks. Finally, Ainslee sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Confused, Shannon asked. “For what?”

“For sayin’ ye might not be ready to marry. That’s not my business. And…”

Shannon frowned. “And?”

“I’m bein’ selfish.” She sighed again as she dodged two bedraggled but laughing boys sprinting directly toward them.

“Ye’ve never been selfish, Lee.”

Ainslee gave Shannon a pointed look. “Are ye forgettin’ the hard time I gave our parents about leavin’?”

“That doesn’t count. They understood.”

“I hope so. I’m ashamed of how difficult I was.” She hung her head. “And now a part of me wishes we’d never met Rory.”

“What?” Shannon couldn’t believe her ears. “Lee, he saved us.”

“I know.” Tears fell down her cheeks. “And now he’s takin’ you away from me.” She wiped her eyes and stared at her feet as they continued walking.

She looped her arm through her twin’s. “He’s not. After Rory and I wed, nothin’ will change between us, Lee.”

“How can it not? He’ll be yer focus. And when you have babies…” She paused. “There won’t be any room for me in your life.”

“That’s not true. No matter what happens, Ainslee, you and I will always be close. I promise.”

Ainslee nodded but didn’t say anything. Shannon felt guilty. Once Ainslee had been out of danger from her illness, Shannon had been so preoccupied with Rory and herself that she didn’t think much about Ainslee’s feelings.