Page 34 of Unforgotten
It had been a long, tiring day of travel. Heavy sheets of rain had swept in from the west in the afternoon, drenching the party. Thankfully, it had been a short squall, and by the time they made camp for the night, on the edge of a hazel thicket, the skies had cleared once more.
Rising to his feet, Gavin glanced around him. There was no sign of Ella. After rubbing down her pony, she’d disappeared into the woods, possibly to pray. He hoped she hadn’t gone far.
His men had put up tents and begun gutting and plucking some grouse they’d just caught. The birds would be spit-roasted over the embers of the fire pit.
“I’m going to collect some more wood,” Gavin informed Ceard. “Ye had better get those grouse on to roast soon or we’ll all be eating at the witching hour.”
Ceard snorted as he sat with a half-plucked grouse upon his knee. “Ye just make sure the fire doesn’t go out.”
Grinning, Gavin walked off. Ceard could be a curmudgeon at times, but there wasn’t anyone he trusted more at Scorrybreac. Not even his brother.
The air inside the hazel thicket was damp and rich with the odor of wet earth and vegetation. Picking up branches and sticks as he went, Gavin surveyed his surroundings. The trees were tightly packed in here. Dusk would settle soon, and he wondered where Ella had gotten to.
Thud. Thud.
Gavin straightened up from retrieving a fallen hazel branch and frowned.
What was that?
Thud. Thud.
His frown deepened. Following the noise, Gavin walked deeper into the copse. A few yards on, he pushed aside some undergrowth and halted.
Sister Ella had her back to him and was throwing knives at a large tree.
Thud. Thud. Two more blades embedded, side-by-side, in the trunk.
Swathed in black, her head covered by the veil, Ella looked like a deadly shadow come to life in the gloaming.
She moved then, striding over to the trunk, and yanked her six knives, one by one, from their neat row.
Gavin cleared his throat.
Ella whipped around, her face pale and startled. The white wimple framed her face, an austere look that highlighted the delicacy of her features. Yet her hair was now tucked away out of sight.
Gavin’s chest ached at the memory of how her hair had felt—fine and soft—tickling his skin and sliding through his fingers. What a terrible thing, to hide such beauty from the world.
“I thought I’d find ye at prayer,” Gavin greeted her.
Recovering from her fright, Ella frowned. “What do ye want?”
Gavin dipped his chin to the pile of branches in his arms. “Nothing … I was out collecting wood and heard a noise.” His gaze went to the slender blades that she was now tucking into the belt around her waist. “Please continue … don’t let me interrupt yer practice.”
Ella shook her head. “I’m done.”
Irritation flowered within Gavin at her frosty welcome. She probably thought he’d planned to seduce her, that he wanted her to break her vows. He’d heard her whispered prayers earlier, and although he’d only caught snatches of the words, he’d known what she was praying for.
She was seeking strength to ward him off. Like he was the Devil and had been sent to tempt her.
Gavin’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile at the thought, and he met Ella’s eye. “Good,” he replied evenly. “Now that ye have finished, ye can help me collect firewood.”
“Ye always had a lovely singing voice, Sister Ella … I remember it well.”
Ella glanced up from where she’d been staring into the glowing embers of the fire. Ceard sat across from her. A smile softened his usually severe-looking face, and his pale blue eyes were warm.
“Ye do?” she asked, surprised. Of course, Ceard had been at Scorrybreac all those years earlier. He’d been a much younger man then, but already gruff in voice and manner.
“Aye,” he replied, looking slightly embarrassed then. “There’s nothing I like more than listening to a woman sing.”
