Page 4 of Unforgotten
“She’ll let ye soon enough, I’m sure,” Ella murmured, distracted. “When she thinks ye are ready.”
Together the two women left the gardens and entered the abbey complex. Like the high walls surrounding them, the buildings of Kilbride were made of a pale grey stone that gleamed in the sunlight.
The tiled roof of the kirk rose above it all, outlined against a cloudless blue sky. Skirting the edge of the kirk, Ella made her way toward the chapter house. On the way she passed a wide yard. Here, a cluster of nuns were setting up targets, while others approached bearing longbows and quivers of arrows.
“There ye are, Sister Leanna,” one of the nuns called out. Her name was Sister Coira. She was tall and broad-shouldered with violet eyes framed by dark brows—and she was one of Ella’s closest friends here. “Sister Ella … will ye practice with us?”
“Maybe later,” Ella called back, forcing a smile. She wondered if Sister Coira and the others had seen her visitor. If so, Sister Coira gave no sign. She merely smiled back and nodded before turning to the young postulant trotting up behind her with an armload of quivers. “Hand those out please, Sister Mina.”
Leaving them to it, Ella walked on.
Gavin MacNichol favored Mother Shona with a smile that he hoped didn’t betray his nervousness. “I trust Sister Annella is keeping well?”
It was an inane question, but the silence inside the chapter house—a small building that was used for meetings—was getting to him. The space, which had arched stained-glass windows lining the walls and a vaulted ceiling, had grown uncomfortably silent during the wait.
“The Lord has blessed us with Sister Ella. She is a valued member of our community,” the abbess replied, her tone reserved. “Ye will be able to ask after her health face-to-face, for she will be here soon.”
Sister Ella.
Even after all these years, he couldn’t imagine her living here as a nun, crow-like in austere black robes.
Gavin nodded and resisted the urge to wipe his palms on his braies. He felt as nervous as a lad before his first dance. As civil as the abbess was, he wished she would leave him alone so that he could pace around and rid himself of the nervous energy that pulsed through him.
He could feel his heart hammering against his breastbone, and his breathing had quickened, sounding overly loud in the silence. It felt airless and stuffy inside the chapter house.
The abbess had brought him here so that he could speak to Sister Annella in private.
“May I ask why ye have come here alone?” The abbess asked after a long pause. “It can’t be safe to travel without an escort.”
Gavin’s gaze settled upon Mother Shona. She was barely a handful of years older than him. She had a pleasant face, warm brown eyes, and good skin—but her habit and veil completely covered her hair and robbed her of any femininity. Perhaps, in other circumstances, the woman may have been attractive, but dressed in such a way it was impossible to tell. That was most likely the point. Brides of Christ had no wish to make themselves attractive to men.
“I wished to travel swiftly … due to the urgency of this matter,” Gavin replied. His mouth quirked then. “However, I did narrowly avoid some trouble on the way here … two men tried to pull me off my horse yesterday, just after I entered MacKinnon territory, but I managed to outrun them.”
Holding his gaze, the abbess’s expression turned grave. “It never used to be so dangerous to travel the roads of Skye. Ever since the war with the English, the mood has turned here.” She paused, her brown eyes shuttering. “Not only that, but I’m afraid the folk of these lands suffer under Duncan MacKinnon’s rule.”
Gavin raised an eyebrow at her comment. “Lawlessness is a growing problem upon the isle,” he replied. “And I did notice that when I crossed into MacKinnon lands, the villages I passed seemed particularly impoverished.”
The abbess’s lips compressed. “I do not like my nuns to travel unescorted,” she said. Her voice was soft although Gavin caught the edge to it. Mother Shona of Kilbride was highly protective of those within these walls. “I allow this only because ye are a clan-chief and because of the nature of the situation.”
Gavin nodded. “I understand, Mother Shona … and I am grateful.”
They both fell silent then, and Gavin shifted his gaze to the arched windows to his left. The afternoon sun streamed through the stained glass, creating squares of red, blue, and gold on the paved floor of the chapter house.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.
The message he bore could have been brought by another. Why then had he made the effort? It was a two-day journey from Scorrybreac Castle. Just like Mother Shona, his kin and clansmen had found it odd that he’d insisted on riding out on his own like this. But it was something he’d felt compelled to do.
There were some meetings that could not be put off. Some, like this one, were many years overdue.
He’d told himself that the entire journey here. Only, when he’d spied the peaked roof of the abbey’s kirk in the distance, standing out against the deep blue of the sea beyond, misgiving had plagued him.
He should have sent a party in his stead, but it was too late now. He was here.
Hearing the soft footfalls of someone approaching outside, Gavin tensed.
He turned his gaze to the door, drawing in a sharp breath as he readied himself to come face-to-face with his past.
The door swung open with a creak, and a nun entered: a small woman cloaked in black.
