Page 38 of Unforgotten
Intrigued, Ella continued to observe the approaching stronghold. As they neared it, she spied a high stone wall that ringed both the broch and the village. They clattered over a bridge that spanned the meandering An River and rode toward the North Gate.
Despite the enshrouding mist and poor light levels, there were plenty of folk working the surrounding fields: cottars bent over rows of kale, cabbages, and turnips. There were also a number of huts scattering the edges of the fields, tiny dwellings of stacked stone with sod roofs. Smoke wreathed up from some of the huts, and as she rode past, Ella inhaled the aroma of baking bread and braised onions.
Her belly rumbled in response. It had been a long while since the noon meal, and her appetite was now sharp. Even so, the thought of being a guest at Dunan, where she knew no one, put her on edge.
Once again she felt a pang of homesickness for Kilbride—a place where she knew every face. The abbey also offered her protection from the outside world, which could be so harsh and cruel. Her mother’s death had left her feeling exposed, and the incident with Gavin had unnerved her. She was vulnerable away from Kilbride and looked forward to having routine back in her life again.
Not long now, she promised herself, urging Monadh through the gate and into the village beyond.And I’ll be back where I belong.
“Welcome to Dunan!”
A tall man dressed in black leather strode out to meet them as they dismounted in the bailey before the broch. A leggy wolfhound, with a brindled black coat and a lolling tongue, loped at his heels. Ella stared at the newcomer, tracking his path across the yard.
Duncan MacKinnon … this must be him.
Ella didn’t know what she was expecting, but this wasn’t it. Many of the tales that circulated MacKinnon lands portrayed the clan-chief as a depraved beast. Yet the man who embraced Gavin was fine looking: tall and broad-shouldered with a mane of peat-brown hair, storm-grey eyes, and a ruggedly handsome face. He looked to be around Gavin’s age—in his late thirties.
“Good afternoon, MacKinnon,” Gavin greeted him. “Am I the first to arrive?”
“Niall MacDonald is here already … and the rest of them should be here by tomorrow morning.” MacKinnon pulled back from Gavin and slapped him across the back. “Leave yer horses with my lads and come up for a cup of mead.”
The MacKinnon clan-chief stepped away from Gavin then, his gaze sweeping over the small party that MacNichol had brought with him.
But when he saw Ella, his face froze. “Who’s this?” he asked. His bluff tone had completely vanished, and his voice sounded strangely brittle.
Gavin stiffened before taking a step toward Ella. “This is Sister Annella,” he replied. “She is a nun at Kilbride and has just been to Scorrybreac to visit her mother. Sadly, the woman has passed away, and I’m now escorting Sister Annella back to the abbey. I hope ye don’t mind her staying here?”
MacKinnon continued to stare at Ella, his grey eyes shadowing. When he didn’t answer, Gavin cleared his throat. “Can she stay at the broch?”
MacKinnon started slightly, before he dragged his gaze from Ella’s face and focused on Gavin once more. “What?” he mumbled. “Aye, of course she may.” MacKinnon then clicked his fingers, and two stable lads came running. “See to their horses,” he barked before flashing Gavin another broad smile, Ella seemingly forgotten. “Follow me.”
A woman’s wails drifted through the broch, greeting Ella when she entered the Great Hall. A stairwell led off it, climbing up to the higher levels, from where the cries of agony were issuing.
Ella’s step faltered, and her gaze swiveled to MacKinnon. “What’s that?” She blurted the question out before she could stop herself, dropping the reserved demeanor she’d adopted away from Kilbride.
He frowned, irritated. “It’s my wife … she’s giving birth. It’s been taking her a while … she’s been wailing for hours now.”
“Don’t mind us then,” Gavin cut in. “Leave us with some mead and go to her.”
MacKinnon’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Birthing is woman’s work,” he muttered. “I’ll not interfere.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, before Ella spoke up once more. She knew she should hold her tongue, but the wailing clawed at her. “Do ye want me to go up and see if I can help in any way?” She paused here, aware of the clan-chief’s glower. “I have aided births before.”
MacKinnon shook his head. “There’s no need. My sister and the healer are with her.”
Ella’s lips parted as she readied herself to argue. A swift warning glance from Gavin stopped her. He was right; she’d only just stepped over the threshold. It wasn’t her place.
Even so, the poor woman’s piteous cries ripped into Ella, shredding her nerves. She couldn’t bear to listen to them and know that she wasn’t allowed to help.
They took a seat at the far end of the Great Hall, upon a raised dais. A fire burning in the nearby hearth threw out a blanket of welcome heat. Ella sat down upon a low bench, next to Ceard, while MacKinnon lowered himself into a great oaken chair. Above him a huge boar’s head hung upon the wall. Ella stared at it, taken aback by the beast’s size and massive tusks.
Seeing the direction of her gaze, Duncan MacKinnon grinned. “Impressive, isn’t he? I brought the rogue down three summers ago … I’ve never seen the likes of him since.”
“It’s certainly a prize,” Gavin admitted. His gaze flicked between MacKinnon and Ella, and she saw a wary expression settle over his face. He didn’t like the interest that MacKinnon was showing in her; he didn’t trust the man.
Ella dropped her gaze then, cursing her outburst earlier. She had done a foolish thing in drawing MacKinnon’s attention.A nun should be serene and silent.
Servants appeared then, bearing jugs of mead. They filled MacKinnon’s cup first before moving on to his guests. Ella shifted restlessly upon the hard wooden bench. The woman’s wailing was not as loud here, but she could still hear it.
