Page 53 of Unforgotten
Ella huffed out a laugh. There was no mirth in it, just sadness. “Aye … she told me that I could take my vows once the bairn was born, and that if it was a girl she could be brought up as an oblate within the abbey walls.”
“And if it was a lad?”
“When the bairn was old enough, we would take him south to the monks upon Iona, where he would be brought up.”
Silence fell between them then, broken only by the impatient bleating of goats in the enclosure to the east of the graveyard. They were awaiting milking. Neither Gavin nor Ella paid them any mind.
Gavin didn’t speak. Instead, he waited for Ella to tell him the rest of the story. He didn’t want to hear it, and yet he knew he had to know every last painful detail.
“It was a hard time for me,” Ella said after a long pause. “I carried the bairn uneasily.” She dipped her head further, her features growing taut. “I was upset when I arrived at Kilbride … full of grief, anger … and fear. The birth was long and painful … and when the bairn came, he was stillborn.” Her voice caught as she said those last words, revealing that although many years had passed, Ella still carried the sorrow within her.
They’d just come from Dunan and the death of both MacKinnon’s wife and son. Gavin realized what painful memories it must have brought back for Ella.
Bile rose, stinging the back of Gavin’s throat. “I should have been there for ye, Ella,” he finally managed. “Ye shouldn’t have had to deal with all of that on yer own.”
Ella opened her eyes and raised her chin. “Ye made yer choice, Gavin, and I made mine,” she replied huskily. “I told myself when I came to Kilbride that I would sever all ties to my old life. I never told anyone here who the father of the bairn was.”
“But the abbess—”
“She’s a canny woman … she probably guessed when ye came to collect me.”
Gavin heaved in a deep, steadying breath. The anguish her news had roused in him was an open wound. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Hunkering down, he placed a hand over the top of the low mound.
“I don’t suppose ye gave him a name?” he asked softly.
“The sisters told me not to,” she whispered back. “But I ignored their advice. I named him Finn … after my grandfather.”
Sorrow rose within Gavin, wreathing up inside him like winter mist. He could not stop it, could not prevent the tears that forced their way out and trickled down his cheeks.
Finn.
He and Innis had never been able to have children. And perhaps if he hadn’t abandoned Ella, let her flee Scorrybreac, their son might have lived.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. But the words weren’t enough, and the moment they passed his lips, Gavin regretted them. An apology wouldn’t erase the stain of the past, wouldn’t change what had befallen Ella. “I want to make amends for this,” he continued, his voice ragged now. “I want to ensure that ye never suffer again.”
“Enough.” A small hand caught his. Ella had crouched down next to him, and she squeezed his hand tightly. “Blaming yerself is useless. I chose to lie with ye … even though I knew ye were promised to my sister … we must both bear responsibility for the past. And we must both let it lie.” She paused then. “It’s as yer clan motto says: ‘Remember but look ahead.’ … we should both do that.”
Gavin tore his gaze from the grave and met Ella’s eye. She too wept. Her blue eyes were red rimmed, her lovely face strained. And yet there was strength in her; there had always been strength.
“Ella.” Gavin swiveled around, catching her hands in his. “The abbess is right … ye need to leave here. MacKinnon will follow us … he will have his men search Kilbride. He will deal with ye harshly if he finds ye. The only way ye will stay safe is under my protection. Let me look after ye, as I should have done years ago.” Gavin heaved in a deep breath, holding her gaze firm. “Will ye be my wife?”
Ella stared back at him. After a long moment, her mouth quirked into a watery, melancholy smile. “Years ago I used to imagine what a proposal from ye might be like … but I never envisioned this … ye asking me to become yer wife to save me from the hangman’s noose.”
“Ye think that’s why I ask?” Gavin moved toward her then, dropping onto his knees, his grip on her hands tightening. “That I’m doing this out of a sense of obligation?”
Her throat bobbed. “Aren’t ye? Ye were always a good man, Gavin … ye have always sought to do what was right.”
Her words cut deep. Yet he deserved them. Indeed, he’d spent his life following the rules his forefathers had set out. He’d lived in fear of disappointing those who’d never had his best interests at heart.
“I’m asking ye to be my wife because I love ye, Ella.” The words were soft, barely above a whisper. “I’ve never stopped loving ye.” He broke off there, wishing he was more eloquent, that he could express himself better, but it felt as if an iron band gripped him about the throat and was slowly squeezing. “Fate is giving us a second chance … and this time I will not turn my back upon it.”
Silence fell between them. Ella did not answer; she merely stared back at him, her blue eyes glistening with tears.
Gavin inhaled slowly. He felt ripped apart, close to pleading, yet he prevented himself. “Will ye be my wife, Ella?”
Another pause stretched out, and Gavin felt sure that her silence was damning. It was too late. They’d both gone too far upon their chosen paths to change course now. Ella would leave Kilbride, but not to wed him.
But then Ella offered him a watery smile. It was like watching the sun emerge after a dull day of low cloud and biting wind. Her smile bathed him, soothed his aching soul. “Aye,” she whispered. “I will.”
