PRAISE FOR
Mine Is the Night
“Mine Is the Night was everything I hoped it would be—the crown of the series! I loved the historical setting, the details, the love stories, the characters who change and grow. The pace and story lines kept me turning pages; I couldn’t put it down.”
—FRANCINE RIVERS, author of Redeeming Love
“Few authors stir my emotions more deeply than Liz Curtis Higgs. One does not merely read her novels; one forges a bond so deep with her characters that reader and story become one, embarking on a journey that both inspires and transforms. But be warned—Mine Is the Night will steal your night from the first page to the last, and never will hours be better spent. It was an absolute pleasure to read.”
—JULIE LESSMAN, author of A Hope Undaunted
“Liz Curtis Higgs has once again combined her extraordinary skill as a storyteller with her elegant writing style to weave a grand Scottish tale, one that transports us back to the past in an emotional and unforgettable journey. I was reluctant to see the story of the Kerr women end—but what an ending it is!”
—BJ HOFF, author of The Emerald Ballad series
“Liz Curtis Higgs does it again! Mine Is the Night delivers a compelling story of intrigue, adventure, and love. With extreme attention to detail and historical accuracy, Liz creates a love story to last the ages.”
—TRACIE PETERSON, author of Embers of Love
“Liz Curtis Higgs brings the book of Ruth to life in Jacobite Scotland with Mine Is the Night, a page-turning, emotionally intense, gloriously researched, and soul-stirring read. I was in eighteenth-century Scotland with characters I did not want to leave. Simply brilliant.”
—LINDA WINDSOR, author of Healer
“Stunning from start to finish! Sharply witty, charming, romantic, captivating. Liz Curtis Higgs delivers a finale that satisfies in every way. Her best yet!”
—TAMERA ALEXANDER, author of Beyond This Moment
PRAISE FOR
Here Burns My Candle
“Higgs’s latest richly detailed, leisurely paced novel about two women whose faith brings them closer together is a compelling tale of love, loss, faith, and forgiveness that is certain to please both inspirational readers and fans of well-crafted historical fiction.”
—BOOKLIST
“The characters are remarkably flawed … Higgs is a stickler for period authenticity and has done her homework on history and dialect. Fans have been waiting … for this novel and will not be disappointed.”
—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“Based on the story of Naomi and Ruth but vividly evoking its 18th-century Scottish setting, Here Burns My Candle is a memorable tale of divided loyalties and endurance in the face of tragedy, with flawed, convincing characters and abundant historical detail.”
—HISTORICAL NOVELS REVIEW
“Christy Award winner Higgs (Whence Came a Prince) has a faithful following … The author’s broad appeal makes this a winner for those who love period detail in their historicals.”
—LIBRARY JOURNAL
“Higgs’ latest novel is stunning in its prose and its historical accuracy. The author transports the reader to another time and place while paralleling the book of Ruth. Readers will anxiously await the second part of the story.”
—ROMANTIC TIMES Inspirational TOP PICK
OTHER BOOKS BY LIZ CURTIS HIGGS
HISTORICAL FICTION
Thorn in My Heart
Fair Is the Rose
Whence Came a Prince
Grace in Thine Eyes
Here Burns My Candle
CONTEMPORARY FICTION
Mixed Signals
Bookends
NONFICTION
Bad Girls of the Bible
Really Bad Girls of the Bible
Unveiling Mary Magdalene
Slightly Bad Girls of the Bible
Rise and Shine
Embrace Grace
My Heart’s in the Lowlands
CHILDREN’S
The Parable of the Lily
The Sunflower Parable
The Pumpkin Patch Parable
The Pine Tree Parable
Go Away, Dark Night
MINE IS THE NIGHT
PUBLISHED BY WATERBROOK PRESS
12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200
Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version.
The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Liz Curtis Higgs
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., New York.
WATERBROOK and its deer colophon are registered trademarks of Random House Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Higgs, Liz Curtis.
Mine is the night / Liz Curtis Higgs. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-307-45888-9
1. Scotland—Social life and customs—18th century—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3558.I36235M56 2011
813′.54—dc22
2010053728
v3.1
For two special Elizabeths in my life:
Elizabeth Hoagland
and Elizabeth Jeffries,
my dear Louisville friends,
with fond memories of our
Elizabethan lunches.
May the meaning of your name,
“consecrated to God,”
bless your souls
now and forever.
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Author Notes
Readers Guide
Scottish Glossary
Mine is the night,
with all her stars.
EDWARD YOUNG
One
Foul whisperings are abroad.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Selkirkshire
26 April 1746
he distant hoofbeats were growing louder.
Elisabeth Kerr quickly pushed aside the curtain and leaned out the carriage window. A cool spring rain, borne on a blustery wind, stung her cheeks. She could not see the riders on horseback, hidden by the steep hill behind her. But she could hear them galloping hard, closing the gap.
Her mother-in-law seemed unconcerned, her attention drawn to the puddle forming at their feet. A frown creased her brow. “Do you mean for us to arrive in Selkirk even more disheveled than we already are?” Three long days of being jostled about in a cramped and dirty coach had left Marjory Kerr in a mood as foul as the weather.
“ ’Tis not the rain that concerns me.” Elisabeth resumed her seat, feeling a bit unsteady. “No ordinary traveling party would ride with such haste.”
Marjory’s breath caught. “Surely you do not think—”
“I do.”
Had they not heard the rumors at every inn and coaching halt? King George’s men were scouring the countryside for anyone who’d aided bonny Prince Charlie in his disastrous bid to reclaim the British throne for the long-deposed Stuarts. Each whispered account was worse than the last. Wounded rebel soldiers clubbed to death. Houses burned with entire families inside. Wives and daughters ravished by British dragoons.
Help us, Lord. Please. Elisabeth slipped her arm round her mother-in-law’s shoulders as she heard the riders crest the hill and bear down on them.
“We were almost home,” Marjory fretted.
“The Lord will rescue us,” Elisabeth said firmly, and then they were overtaken. A male voice cut through the rain-soaked air, and the carriage jarred to a halt.
Mr. Dewar, their round-bellied coachman, dropped from his perch and landed by the window with a grunt. He rocked back on his heels until he found his balance, then yanked open the carriage door without ceremony. “Beg yer pardon, leddies. The captain here would have a wird with ye.”
Marjory’s temper flared. “He cannot expect us to stand in the rain.”
“On the contrary, madam.” A British dragoon dismounted and rolled into view like a loaded cannon. His shoulders were broad, his legs short, his neck invisible. “I insist upon it. At once, if you please.”
With a silent prayer for strength, Elisabeth gathered her hoops and maneuvered through the narrow carriage doorway. She was grateful for Mr. Dewar’s hand as she stepped down, trying not to drag her skirts through the mud. Despite the evening gloom, her eyes traced the outline of a hillside town not far south. Almost home.
The captain, whom Elisabeth guessed to be about five-and-forty years, watched in stony silence as Marjory disembarked. His scarlet coat was drenched, his cuffed, black boots were covered with filth, and the soggy brim of his cocked hat bore a noticeable wave.
He was also shorter than Elisabeth had first imagined. When she lifted her head, making the most of her long neck, she was fully two inches taller than he. Some days she bemoaned her height but not this day.
By the time Marjory joined her on the roadside, a half-dozen uniformed men had crowded round. Broadswords hung at their sides, yet their scowls were far more menacing.
“Come noo,” Mr. Dewar said gruffly. “Ye’ve nae need to frighten my passengers. State yer business, and be done with it. We’ve little daylight left and less than a mile to travel.”
“Selkirk is your destination?” The captain seemed disappointed. “Not many Highland rebels to be found there.”
“ ’Tis a royal burgh,” Marjory told him, her irritation showing. “Our townsfolk have been loyal to the Crown for centuries.”
Elisabeth shot her a guarded look. Have a care, dear Marjory.
The captain ignored her mother-in-law’s comments, all the while studying their plain black gowns, a curious light in his eyes. “In mourning, are we? For husbands, I’ll wager.” He took a brazen step toward Elisabeth, standing entirely too close. “Tell me, lass. Did your men give their lives in service to King George? At Falkirk perhaps? Or Culloden?”
She could not risk a lie. Yet she could not speak the truth.
Please, Lord, give me the right words.
Elisabeth took a long, slow breath, then spoke from her heart. “Our brave men died at Falkirk honoring the King who has no equal.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “Did they now?”
“Aye.” She met the captain’s gaze without flinching, well aware of which sovereign she had in mind. I am God, and there is none like me. She’d not lied. Nor had the dragoon grasped the truth behind her words: by divine right the crown belonged to Prince Charlie.
“No one compares to His Majesty, King George,” he said expansively. “Though I am sorry for your loss. No doubt your men died heroes.”
Elisabeth merely nodded, praying he’d not ask their names. A list of soldiers killed at Falkirk had circulated round Edinburgh for weeks. The captain might recall that Lord Donald and Andrew Kerr were not named among the royalist casualties. Instead, her handsome husband and his younger brother were counted among the fallen rebels on that stormy January evening.
My sweet Donald. However grievous his sins, however much he’d wounded her, she’d loved him once and mourned him still.
Her courage bolstered by the thought of Donald in his dark blue uniform, Elisabeth squared her shoulders and ignored the rain sluicing down her neck. “My mother-in-law and I are eager to resume our journey. If we are done here—”
“We are not.” Still lingering too near, the captain inclined his head, measuring her. “A shame your husband left such a bonny widow. Though if you fancy another soldier in your bed, one of my men will gladly oblige—”
“Sir!” Marjory protested. “How dare you address a lady in so coarse a manner.”
His dragoons quickly closed ranks. “A lady?” one of them grumbled. “She sounds more like a Highlander to my ear.”
The captain’s expression darkened. “Aye, so she does.” Without warning he grasped the belled cuff of Elisabeth’s sleeve and turned back the fabric. “Where is it, lass? Where is your silk Jacobite rose?”
“You’ve no need to look.” Elisabeth tried to wrest free of him. “I haven’t one.”
Ignoring her objections, he roughly examined the other cuff, nearly tearing apart the seam. “The white rose of Scotland was Prince Charlie’s favorite, was it not? I’ve plucked them off many a Highland rebel.”
“I imagine you have.” Elisabeth freed her sleeve from his grasp. “Are you quite satisfied?”
“Far from it, lass.” The captain eyed the neckline of her gown, his mouth twisting into an ugly sneer. “It se
ems your flower is well hidden. Nevertheless, I mean to have it.”
Two
The brave find a home
in every land.
OVID
top!” Marjory threw her arm in front of Elisabeth, shielding her from the British dragoon with his ill-mannered words and his insolent gaze. “That is enough, sir.” Her heart pounding, her patience long abandoned on the road south, Marjory practically shouted at the man, “If my daughter-in-law says she has no rose, then she has no rose.”
“I do not own a single one,” Elisabeth said evenly, stepping back.
Marjory lowered her arm but didn’t move, still glaring at the captain. Did the scoundrel think she’d simply stand by and watch while he took liberties with her daughter-in-law? The very idea.
When the captain did not respond at once, his men grew restless, murmuring among themselves. Finally he offered a careless shrug. “Madam, I did not intend—”
“I beg to differ,” Marjory retorted. “Your intentions were abundantly clear and wholly dishonorable. Perhaps I should write General Lord Mark Kerr and inform him of your vile behavior.” She saw the flicker of fear in his eyes and was secretly pleased.
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