Page 23 of Unforgotten
“And why don’t ye?”
A heavy sigh gusted out of Gavin. “I don’t rightly know … guilt … a sense of filial duty.”
Ella looked away, biting at her bottom lip.Duty.He hadn’t changed that much after all. An overwhelming sense of responsibility still ruled this man’s decisions—his life.
“I take it that ye and Innis never had children?” Ella asked after a long pause. They had skirted around the eastern edge of the inner bailey and were now walking past the high wall that circuited the herb garden, a long rectangular space that hugged the southern flank of the curtain wall.
Glancing Gavin’s way, Ella saw tension settle over his face. It was a bold, impertinent question, and had she mulled over it first, Ella probably would never have asked it. As it was, she’d been wondering all day about Gavin’s union with Innis. Had they truly been happy together? The question had slipped from her lips, before she’d had the chance to stop herself.
“No,” he replied, a slightly rough edge to his voice. “We tried for the first few years.” He cleared his throat then. “But when Innis’s womb didn’t quicken, she asked if we could sleep in separate chambers. Once that happened, we never lay together again.”
Ella glanced away once more, taking in the news. Years earlier it might have made her feel vindicated. As it was, she just felt hollow—and a little sad. The guarded edge to his voice warned her from asking anything else. Yet his candor made it hard not to.
“Innis wrote to me often, ye know?” she said finally.
“Aye … once a moon.”
“I read all her letters.”
“But ye never responded to any.”
There it was, a faint note of accusation in his tone. Ella wasn’t surprised or offended. He had every right to think her cruel.
“Innis told me that she was content with ye,” she replied, deliberately not responding to his comment. “Was that not the truth?”
A beat of silence followed. “We were happy enough,” Gavin replied. There was a heaviness to his voice now, as if this conversation was starting to weary him. “Innis and I made good companions, and our friendship deepened over the years. But it was not an ideal match … we both knew that. Perhaps if we’d had bairns, things might have been different.” His voice trailed off there, and Gavin drew to a halt.
Ella stopped next to him, surprised. Turning, she faced him, wilting under the intensity of his gaze. The torchlight that flickered across the inner bailey highlighted the handsome planes of his face, but also the regret in his eyes.
Regret for what? That his union with Innis had been lacking? That he’d wed her in the first place?
“I have no heir,” Gavin said, his voice low now, “so my brother or one of my nephews will take my place once I’m gone.”
Ella inclined her head, wondering at why he was being so frank with her this eve. For the first time since they’d been reunited, she was starting to feel comfortable in his presence. “Does that bother ye?”
“Years ago I thought it might … but these days I hardly care.” His gaze shadowed then, as it held hers. “Maybe it’s my punishment for hurting ye, Ella. Perhaps I deserve no better.”
11
Saying Too Much
ELLA FOUND GORDANA MacNichol hard at work in the walled garden. Stepping inside the secluded space, Ella inhaled the scents of the last of the summer roses mingled with the strong perfume of lavender.
A few feet away, Gordana stood before a trellis of gillyflowers. She was tying up the stems of the clove-scented, pink and white flowers that grew in large earthen pots, to prevent them from flopping over. Around Gordana spread long beds of rosemary, sage, thyme, chamomile, and myrtle. A large spreading quince tree had been espaliered against the far wall of the garden.
A smile curved Ella’s mouth as she took in the scene. How could onenotsmile when standing in such a beautiful spot?
Giving a delicate cough, she moved toward Gordana.
Gavin’s sister glanced over her shoulder. Her face had tensed, for she clearly didn’t like anyone intruding upon her garden sanctuary.
“Don’t mind me,” Ella replied, stopping abruptly. “I can leave if ye wish.”
Gordana’s expression softened. “Stay, Sister Ella … I thought for a moment that Ma had come to harangue me.”
Ella raised an eyebrow, before she drew closer. “She does that often?”
“Ye saw her last night. I deliberately break my fast in my chamber to avoid seeing her first thing in the morning. She tends to sour one’s mood.”
