Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,128

ye have.” His hand circled her forearm, drawing her closer. “I’ve waited a lang time for ye, Bess. I’ll not lose ye to anither.”

When she saw the hardness in his features, the darkness in his eyes, fear began seeping into her heart as surely as the cold had begun seeping through her skirts. Yet she clung to her resolve. “If I’m to marry again, the Almighty will choose my husband.”

“Micht he not choose me?”

“I’ve never seen you in kirk,” she reminded him even as he tightened his grip on her. “Not on all the Sundays we lived in Edinburgh.”

He snorted. “This from a lass wha hails the moon.”

“Not anymore,” she said fervently. “I belong to God.”

“Nae, Bess.” He pulled her against his chest and held her there. “Ye belong to me.”

She tried to wriggle free from his rough embrace. “Rob, please …”

But he was too strong for her. He pushed her back against the ground, the weight of his body almost more than she could bear. She could not move. She could not breathe.

“Stop it, Rob!” she cried, her voice thin, pinched.

Then his mouth was on hers, demanding a response.

Help me, Lord! Please, please. With great effort she finally escaped Rob’s brutal kiss, her skin burning as her cheek scraped against the stubble of his beard.

But Rob did not relent. With his breath warming her ear, he made clear his intentions. “Ye’ll not deny me, Bess. I’ve luved ye too lang and kenned ye too weel.” He kissed the curve of her neck, hard, without tenderness or affection, then reached for her skirts.

“Nae, Rob!” She bucked against him, lifting her shoulders, trying to throw him off balance. “You do not … mean … this …”

“Aye, but I do,” he growled, holding her down by the sheer bulk of him. “If I canna marry ye, then I’ll have ye just the same.”

“Please, Rob,” she begged him, beginning to weep as he forced her knees apart. “Please … don’t …”

He was no longer listening. He no longer cared.

But God was listening and cared very much. “Father!” she cried. “Father, don’t let him hurt me …”

Rob cut her off. “Yer faither is deid.”

She drew a ragged breath. “But my heavenly Father is not.”

Neither of them moved, though the wind roared and the thunder bore down on them.

Then, with his head turned, Rob finally released her and rose to his knees and then to his feet, while she hastily rearranged her gown, her hands trembling.

Rob stood with his back to her now. His rage appeared to be spent. Even in the darkness she could see the sloped line of his shoulders.

Standing, Elisabeth touched her face, her neck, certain she would find bruises in the morning. But she was not badly injured. She was not defiled. Thank you, Father.

Suddenly her knees felt weak, and her limbs began to shake. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks as she slowly backed away from Rob, her emotions spinning. Fear, relief, anger were all jumbled inside her.

For a moment she thought she might faint or be sick. More than anything she wanted to run, to put as much distance between them as she could. But her legs would not carry her yet. And there were things she had to say.

“You must leave at once,” she told him, her voice raw with pain. “Not only Bell Hill. Not only Selkirk. You must leave Scotland and never return.”

She heard nothing but the wind, whipping the grass round their feet.

Then he spoke. His words were low, broken, and filled with remorse. “I niver meant for it to happen, Bess. I niver meant to hurt ye.”

She believed him. But it changed nothing.

“Listen to me, Rob.” She lifted her head, feeling a bit stronger. “I’ll not tell Lord Buchanan until you are well away. But I will tell him. And he will hunt you down unless you are beyond his reach.”

Rob slowly turned, his face haggard. “Why, Bess? Why would ye spare me?”

“Because you were my friend once. And because the Lord spared me when I foolishly worshiped another.”

The rain began at last. A few large drops, then more. In another minute they would both be soaked through.

“Go,” she urged him, raising her voice above the steadily increasing patter. “Go to the Americas just as you planned. Start a new life.”

He shook his head, not meeting her gaze. “I canna live without ye.”

“But you must, Rob.” She collected her hat and basket, her thoughts fixed on Halliwell’s Close, on home. “You’ll not be alone.