Page 74 of Unforgotten
Reaching for Gavin’s arm, she clung to him.
The abbot took a menacing step toward her, one hand clasping the crucifix about his neck, while the other pointed at her. “Ye will burn … only then will yer soul be cleansed.”
“Enough!” Gavin stepped in front of Ella, shielding her from the abbot’s wrath. “One more poisonous word, and I’ll shove yer teeth down yer throat.”
“Satan lives within this woman,” Abbot Camron continued, ranting now. “She has sinned grievously and will not repent. She must die. She must—”
Gavin didn’t utter another warning. Instead, he lunged forward and slugged the abbot in the mouth with his fist.
Abbot Camron staggered back, eyes bulging. His hands went to his mouth, and he stumbled once more, sinking onto his haunches. When he removed his fingers, Ella saw blood leaking from between his lips. It trickled down his chin.
Gavin loomed over him, his right fist still clenched. “As I told ye, abbot, ye are grossly misinformed.” The words were spoken in a low, threatening voice. “MacKinnon has filled yer head with lies … and like the bigot ye are, ye believed every one of them.” Gavin paused, letting his words sink in. “But now, it is I who should inform ye that ye are trespassing on my land. And if ye and this murder of crows that follow ye do not depart this instant, I shall have ye stripped and stoned as ye flee … is that clear?”
The abbot merely stared up at Gavin, his eyes glittering with hate.
“Is … that … clear?” Gavin repeated.
Ella watched her husband, shocked by his brutality. She hadn’t realized Gavin was capable of such violence. Yet she wasn’t sorry he had lashed out. The abbot had spewed ugly words, accusations that could incite an angry mob if not quashed. Gavin knew that, hence his harshness.
He’d told Ella he wouldn’t let any harm befall her, and he was now showing her that he’d meant his promise. The abbot and his monks would indeed be stripped and stoned if they didn’t obey him.
Slowly, Abbot Camron nodded. Moments passed, and then the abbot heaved himself to his feet. He was trembling, both in fear and rage, while behind him one of his monks started to whimper.
No one said a word as the abbot, with the assistance of three monks, clambered back on his mule. Then he and his flock turned and departed in the direction they’d come, the crowd closing behind them.
A heavy silence settled over the field once they’d gone.
Tearing her gaze from the direction that the abbot had disappeared in, Ella saw that Gavin’s expression hadn’t softened. Instead, he was glaring at his mother.
Maggie MacNichol’s face appeared carven from stone. Her grey eyes were flint-hard as she stared back at her son.
“Ye contacted MacKinnon, Ma,” Gavin said, splintering the tension. “Didn’t ye?”
His mother’s lip curled. “Someone had to.”
“And why’s that?”
“This business … ye wedding yer sister-in-law … a nun … it’s unseemly. Ye have brought our family low, Gavin. Ye have tarnished us all.”
Gavin held her gaze. Ella felt the arm she gripped tense. “This ends here, Ma,” he said roughly. “Long have I put up with yer venom, but now it risks poisoning us all. Ye would destroy Scorrybreac in yer quest to control it … to control me.”
“Has she fed ye this nonsense?” Maggie countered, casting Ella a look of pure hatred. “Thiswhore.”
“Ye have insulted Ella for the last time,” Gavin cut in. He twisted then, catching Ceard’s gaze. The warrior stood on the edge of the crowd with a group of Gavin’s most trusted men. “Escort my mother to the Isle of Raasay,” he instructed coldly. “Tell my uncle that she is to remain there. I never want to see her at Scorrybreac ever again.”
Shock rippled across the crowd. Even Ceard, who was usually unflappable, gaped at the clan-chief.
Ella stared at Gavin, as if she was seeing him for the first time. She couldn’t believe it. He was sending his mother into exile.
Love for Gavin MacNichol surged through her—the emotion so strong that Ella’s breathing hitched. She realized then why she’d held back in expressing how she felt for him. There had been a kernel of fear within her that for all his promises, Gavin might let her down again.
But now he’d proved to her that he never would.
“Ye can’t send me away, Gavin.” Maggie MacNichol’s voice, harsh now, slashed through the shocked chatter, dousing it. “I won’t go.”
Gavin inclined his head, fixing his mother with a long look. In response, the woman’s throat bobbed, her cheeks flushing. It was the first time Ella had ever seen Maggie look unsure of herself. Suddenly, she realized—too late—that she’d pushed her son beyond his limits.
“Let me put it this way,” he replied gently. “Ye can either depart from Scorrybreac upon yer palfrey with yer dignity intact … or I’ll have ye hog-tied and thrown over the back of a mule for yer departure. Either way, ye are leaving at first light tomorrow.”
