Page 14 of Unforgotten
A small fire burned, a beacon of red and gold in the smothering darkness.
Night had finally fallen, chasing away the smothering heat. Cool air settled in a blanket over the mountains, valleys, and glens of Skye.
Gavin added a gorse branch to the fire, sitting back as sparks shot up into the air. It was a moonless night, and the flames provided the only light in the lonely vale where they’d made camp.
“Do ye think it’s safe to let the fire burn so bright?” Ella spoke up. “What with so many outlaws abroad these days …”
“We’ll be fine here,” Gavin replied with a shake of his head. “This valley is too remote for outlaws to bother with.”
He broke off there, his gaze fixing upon the face of the nun seated opposite him. The firelight played across her creamy skin and darkened her blue eyes. The habit and wimple and veil she wore were hideous, he had to admit. The former shrouded her figure like a sack, while the latter covered her hair and framed her face in a manner that wasn’t flattering to any woman.
Even so, Sister Ella of Kilbride made his pulse quicken.
She sat demurely now, her hands folded upon her lap. There was no sign of the blade-wielding assassin who’d taken down three outlaws in quick succession.
Gavin had never seen anything like it.
And yet, as they’d resumed their journey north-east in the aftermath, they’d barely discussed the incident.
Drawing in a slow breath, Gavin decided it was time. “Did ye learn to fight like that at the abbey?” he asked, breaking the long silence that had stretched out between them.
Ella’s mouth quirked. That mouth—it didn’t belong upon a nun’s face. She had full, finely drawn lips. It was an expressive mouth that was made for sin.
Enough.
Gavin pulled himself up with that last thought. He couldn’t let his mind drift back to the past. It was another life; they had both been different people then.
“Mother Shona taught me,” she admitted.
Gavin raised his eyebrows, inviting her to continue.
“The abbess learned to fight years ago.” Ella looked away then, her gaze shifting to the dancing flames. “Our Reverent Mother was once a novice nun at Lismore in Argyle,” she continued softly. “But her convent was attacked by brigands. Most of the nuns were raped and murdered, yet she’d been out foraging for herbs and managed to escape.”
Ella paused here, her hand straying to the crucifix that hung from her belt. Her fingers closed around it as she continued, “Mother Shona nearly starved, but then she was taken in by a group of men and women who were living wild in the forest … outlaws too, but not those who’d attacked her convent. They taught her to throw knives, wield a long-bow, swing a sword, and hold her own with a quarter-staff. She brought those skills with her to Kilbride. And when she was elected as abbess, she decided that we would learn how to defend ourselves should the need arise.”
“She did a fine job of teaching ye,” Gavin replied. “I’ve rarely seen such skill.”
Ella inclined her head, acknowledging the compliment.
“I thought nuns took vows that prevented them from using violence against others?” he asked.
“We take three vows: poverty, chastity, and obedience. Nowhere is it writ that we are forbidden from defending ourselves from those who’d do us harm,” Ella replied. With her fingertips, she traced the lines of the crucifix she now held upon her palm. “We could refuse to wield blades, but that wouldn’t prevent us from dying upon them. How can we serve God then?”
Gavin smiled. He hadn’t forgotten how sharp Ella’s mind was, or her strength of character. Even so, the years had developed those traits further. He’d never met a woman like her and knew he would never do so again.
“Ye were magnificent this afternoon,” he admitted quietly. “God’s bones, woman … ye are wasted as a nun.”
Ella stiffened, her gaze narrowing. In an instant the easy atmosphere at the fireside dissolved and tension settled over their camp.
“Taking the veil and dedicating my life to serving God was the making of me,” Ella said after a chill pause. “I do not see it as a waste of a life … instead, it is the greatest privilege I could have ever received.”
Inwardly, Gavin winced. What had possessed him to say those words? Every time he opened his mouth over the last day, he’d managed to offend her. That wasn’t hard to do though, for Sister Ella was far pricklier than the lass he’d known nearly two decades earlier.
Guilt lanced through Gavin.Whose fault is that?
“Apologies, Ella,” he replied, casting her a conciliatory smile. “It was an ill choice of words.”
She didn’t smile back at him. “SisterElla.” Her tone was clipped.
