Page 55 of Unforgotten
Ella was to leave in secret, without a word to anyone except her closest friends. It was harsh, especially after all the years she’d given to the order. Yet Gavin understood why.
Nuns who had taken their perpetual vows didn’t just cast aside their habits and leave the order. To be cast out was to leave under a shadow of shame.
Gavin wished he could have spared Ella this. But they couldn’t risk lingering at Kilbride. With each passing hour, it became increasingly dangerous for them to remain here—both for Ella and the Sisters of Kilbride.
Approaching Gavin, Ella lifted her chin slightly and met his gaze. She then stopped and drew her threadbare shawl tightly about her, as if aware that he and his men were taken aback by her altered appearance.
It must have felt strange, to wear a kirtle again and to go about with her hair uncovered after so many years.
He stared back at her, unspeaking. He wanted to tell her how lovely she was, how the years had barely touched her. Instead, he merely held her gaze. This close, he could see that her eyes were shadowed. Leaving Kilbride was not a happy occasion.
Gavin turned to where Mother Shona drew to a halt at Ella’s shoulder. The woman’s face was unusually grave.
“Ye will accompany us to Torrin kirk then, Mother Shona?” he asked.
She gave a curt nod. “I must witness yer union.”
Next to the abbess, Gavin saw Ella drop her gaze to the dirt. His chest constricted at the sight. This wasn’t what he wanted for Ella; she was wedding him out of her own volition, yet at the same time, the union was being forced upon her.
It was either become his wife or leave the abbey without protection. If she did that, it would only be a matter of days before MacKinnon tracked her down. Wedding Gavin would give her shelter and ensure she remained safe, at Scorrybreac.
“We should hurry.” The abbess moved to a shaggy grey mare that had been saddled for her. “The sooner ye are wed, the sooner ye can distance yerselves from Kilbride. MacKinnon will be on his way here by now.”
Her words were a sobering reminder.
Ella’s chin snapped up, her mouth thinning. Without a word, she crossed to where Gavin awaited her. They would ride together. Reaching down, Gavin took her hand. Ella then placed a foot atop his and sprang up before him. As she settled against him, her back pressing against his chest, Gavin’s breathing hitched. The feel of her was distracting. Trying to ignore the quickening of his pulse, Gavin gathered the reins.
“Are ye ready?” he asked.
Ella’s voice held a rueful note when she replied, “Aye … ye heard Mother Shona. MacKinnon will be here soon enough. Let’s go.”
Cottars working the fields on the way into Torrin glanced up from their work, gazes alight with curiosity as the party cantered up the potholed road into the village. Ella kept her gaze straight ahead, hoping that she and the abbess were hidden from view by the other riders.
Very little went unnoticed here, which wasn’t a good thing, for MacKinnon would likely come to Torrin asking questions after discovering that Ella hadn’t returned to Kilbride after all.
Each stride of the leggy courser brought Ella hard up against Gavin. The heat of his body enveloped her, creating sensations that were both pleasant and disturbing. She found herself wanting to lean into him but fought the urge.
Torrin kirk was a small building perched on the edge of a high cliff. The village spread out behind it, a ramshackle collection of stacked-stone cottages with thatched and turf roofs.
The priest came out to meet them, a small bald man with a sharp-featured face.
He wasn’t happy about being asked to perform a wedding ceremony at such short notice, yet since the abbess herself requested it of him, he eventually acquiesced.
There was no time for preparations, no time to find a pretty gown or to weave flowers through her hair.
All the same, nervousness fluttered through Ella’s belly when she walked up to the altar.
The early afternoon sun filtered in through the kirk’s high windows, catching dust motes on the way down. Ella inhaled the familiar odor of tallow and incense, and her nervousness increased.
Just hours ago she’d been a nun. A kirk was a place where she served the Lord, where she knelt and prayed, and found solace from the rest of the world.
She was no longer a Sister of Kilbride, and yet in her heart little had changed. It felt wrong to be standing here with her hair uncovered wearing this ill-fitting kirtle, about to wed the man who’d broken her heart so many years earlier.
Panic gripped her chest. Dragging in a deep breath, Ella did her best to quell it.
Turning, she met the abbess’s gaze and shot her a pleading look.
Mother Shona merely favored her with a soft smile, her eyes shadowed.
