Page 59 of Unforgotten
A muscle bunched in MacKinnon’s lantern jaw. He was a handsome man; the abbess had noted that from the first time she’d met him. However, all one needed was a few moments in his company to realize that an attractive exterior hid much that was dark and unsavory. MacKinnon had a shadowed soul, and the abbess wondered if he had been born that way or if life had shaped his unpleasant nature.
“She traveled west,” he growled. “To Kilbride.”
The abbess inclined her head, as if his assertion confused her. “And I can assure ye that she never came here.” She paused, her gaze narrowing. “In fact, we have been awaiting her return … MacNichol promised to return her to Kilbride before now.”
MacKinnon stared at her, and danger crackled in the air. His men, Campbell and Broderick, exchanged glances, their expressions veiled. They, like the abbess, were probably wondering what the clan-chief would do next.
When MacKinnon finally spoke, his voice was low and hard. “Ye lie, Mother Shona.”
The abbess drew herself up. “How dare ye. I am a servant of God. I do not tell falsehoods.”
MacKinnon took a threatening step forward. “Ye forget … this abbey sits upon my land. I rule here, not ye.” He paused there, letting his words sink in, before he shifted his attention to Ross Campbell. “Search the abbey,” he barked. “Find that wee bitch.”
26
In Name Only
THEY RODE HARD, cutting north into Fraser lands rather than risk the more direct, faster route home through MacKinnon territory. The day was waning, long shadows stretching across bare hills, when the party reached the tiny hamlet of Frithe nestled in the foothills of the Black Cuillins.
But as small as Frithe was, the village hosted an inn: a low-slung, white-washed building with a thatched roof and a weather-beaten sign revealing a dancing woman with flowing gold hair.
“The Fairy Maid.” Perched behind Gavin, Ella squinted in the gloaming so that she could read the inn’s name on the sign.
“Aye, the Lochans of the Fair Folk are just a short ride from here,” Gavin replied, pulling up his mare, Saorsa.
Ella craned her neck then, looking north-west at where the great shadowy peaks of the Black Cuillins rose above them. She’d visited the Fairy Pools a few times, as a child, for they lay in Fraser land and the clan often celebrated weddings at the sacred spot. She remembered rushing water, the serene atmosphere, and a large turquoise pool that she’d bathed in.
If the situation had been different, if she hadn’t been running from MacKinnon, fleeing her old identity, she’d have liked to see them again.
‘The Fairy Maid’ proved to be welcoming lodgings. The elderly couple who kept it directed Gavin and his men to the stables wedged between the two wings that stretched behind the main structure. There, they rubbed down their horses before retiring to the common room and a supper of roast mutton, mashed turnips with butter, and oaten bread.
There were no other travelers in the inn this eve, just two local men playing a game of Ard-ri upon a low table at the far end of the common room. Immersed in their game, the men barely looked up at the newcomers. Ella glanced over to see one of them grin as he moved a white counter close to a small stone figurine, while his opponent scowled. Ard-ri—or High King—was an old game that simulated a Viking raid. The grinning man was about to bring down the Scottish king.
Seated next to Gavin at the long table he shared with her and his men, Ella lowered her chin and whispered a prayer. It was a habit after all her years at Kilbride, one that she wouldn’t lightly cast aside. Once she had given thanks for the food set before them, Ella ate with relish. After everything that had befallen them over the past day, she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since leaving Dunan. Likewise, Gavin and his men ate as if they’d been starved for a week, washing down the meal with tankards of ale.
The food was delicious, and Ella focused upon it, happy to let the murmured conversation move around her rather than contribute. She was still reeling after the events of the day.
Ella helped herself to another slice of mutton, and as she did so, her hand brushed Gavin’s. Her gaze snapped up, fusing with her husband’s. Watching her, Gavin’s mouth curved into a smile. Ella stared back, noting that dimple in his cheek that still gave him a boyish look.
“Is the meal to yer liking, Ella?” he asked softly.
“Aye,” she replied, smiling back. “I imagine ye had forgotten how I can eat like a horse?”
His smile widened, although those warm blue eyes never wavered from hers. “I’ve forgotten nothing,” he murmured. “Not one detail.”
His words made a hot flush creep over her chest.
Not one detail.
Many years may had passed since they’d been lovers, yet they lived a lifetime in that one sultry summer. The memories of it all had tormented Ella when she initially left Scorrybreac. Eventually, with Mother Shona’s help, she’d archived all those painful recollections, pushed them so far back into the recesses of her mind that she could barely reach them.
And yet, they were still there—they always would be.
The hours they’d spent in that clearing, laughing, talking, making plans, and exploring each other’s bodies under the warmth of the sun.
Ella had told herself that Gavin had forgotten it all, that he’d laid the past to rest when he’d wed Innis.
Yet gazing into Gavin’s eyes now, Ella understood that wasn’t the case.
