Page 67 of Unforgotten
Closing her eyes, Ella bent her head and began to pray.
It was a while later when she finally rose to her feet and dusted off her skirts. It had been wise to visit the chapel, for she felt lighter, not so burdened with worries about what the future held.
Emerging into the cool evening, she was surprised to find her father awaiting her.
In the light of the torch that burned on the wall behind him, Stewart Fraser’s face appeared austere, his gaze hooded.
“Good eve, Da,” Ella greeted him cautiously. Since her arrival at Scorrybreac, they hadn’t had a moment alone together. “How long have ye been waiting out here?”
“A while,” he rumbled. “Ye take yer prayers seriously, daughter.”
“Ye should have joined me,” she replied with a smile. “I’d have welcomed yer company.”
Her father shook his head with a grimace. “Yer mother was the pious one … I’ve never felt at ease in a kirk.”
Their gazes fused then and held, silence falling between them.
“Are ye angry with me, Da?” Ella asked finally.
“No, lass,” he replied, weariness creeping into his voice. “Just confused … I had no idea that ye loved Gavin MacKinnon. I feel a fool for not realizing that was the reason for yer decision to take the veil.”
Ella sighed. “Well then, it seems that ye were the only one in this keep who didn’t know … if ye are to believe Maggie MacNichol.”
A shadow moved across Stewart Fraser’s eyes. “That woman has a poison tongue,” he growled. “The things she said to ye today were unacceptable.” A muscle bunched in his jaw. “If she continues her slander, I won’t be held accountable.”
Ella moved close to her father and took his hand, squeezing gently. “Neither will Gavin … he was still angry when I left him earlier. I fear the time is coming when things with his mother will come to a head.”
Her father nodded. “Aye … it’s been brewing for a while now. MacNichol is a good man … but he’s too soft-hearted with those who don’t deserve it.” His gaze gentled then as he looked upon her, and he covered Ella’s hand with his own. “I am glad to see ye both happy together,” he murmured. “I saw the way he looks at ye … the man loves ye.”
A soft smile curved Ella’s mouth. “Aye, he does.”
Duncan MacKinnon hurled the parchment away with a snarled curse.
At the opposite end of the table, Drew lifted her attention from where she was delicately spreading honey over a small wedge of bannock. “Ill-tidings, I take it?” she asked.
Duncan ignored her. “Whore!”
“MacKinnon?” Carr Broderick’s rumbled question behind him was edged with censure. Through his haze of rage, Duncan realized that the warrior thought he was hurling insults at his sister. Carr could be ridiculously gallant at times. But, across the table, Drew’s sanguine expression didn’t change. She knew he wasn’t speaking about her.
“That nun who stabbed me.” Duncan whirled around, his gaze fixing upon the broad-shouldered man with short pale blond hair who stood by the door to the solar. “She’s now Gavin MacNichol’s bride.”
Duncan heard his sister’s sharply indrawn breath across the table, while Carr stared back at him, eyes widening. A few feet away, Ross Campbell, who also flanked the door, muttered an oath.
“That’s impossible.” Drew’s voice was sharp with shock. “She’s a nun.”
Duncan whipped around, picked up the parchment that had just arrived by pigeon, and shoved it at his sister. “Here!” he barked. “Read it for yerself.”
Drew did just that. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the missive. “This is from Lady MacNichol?”
“Aye,” Duncan growled, anger thrumming through him. He watched his sister’s face go rigid.
“It says here that the abbess at Kilbride cast Sister Annella out.”
“That scheming bitch.” Duncan’s hands fisted, for he remembered the challenge in the abbess’s eyes when she’d given him permission to have his men search the abbey. They had, but had found no sign of Sister Annella. A visit to the nearby village had yielded nothing either. The priest there had denied ever seeing them. “She knew where the nun was … she helped them run off together.”
Drew lowered the parchment. “Lady MacNichol says that the abbess doesn’t have permission to cast out a nun who has taken her vows of perpetuity from the order.”
“That’s right.” Duncan leaned back in his chair, the bannock he’d just consumed churning in his belly. “She should have applied to the Holy See … only the Pope himself can grant such permission.”
