Page 77 of Unforgotten
Epilogue
Remember But Look Ahead
ELLA SWUNG UP onto the courser’s back, a smile spreading across her face. It felt good to sit astride a horse. She knew it wasn’t ‘ladylike’, but she preferred this style. She’d never enjoyed riding sidesaddle.
“Ready?”
Ella turned to see Gavin smiling at her. He’d already mounted Saorsa and was awaiting her. Gavin had gifted her the leggy bay gelding. She’d named the horse Fàd—Peat—for his coat was so dark brown it almost appeared black in certain lights.
Nodding, Ella gathered up the reins. “Let’s go.”
They clip-clopped out of the inner bailey, through the high stone arch, and into the rectangular-shaped outer bailey beyond. It was a windy morning and gusts blew straw around the wide space as lads mucked out stables and a servant girl threw grain for the geese and fowl that roamed the outer bailey.
Folk waved as they passed, and both Gavin and Ella acknowledged them. Spying the warmth on the faces of Scorrybreac’s retainers, their ready smiles, a sense of belonging settled over Ella.
Maggie MacNichol had departed two days earlier, and the moment she had, it was as if a shadow lifted from Scorrybreac. The woman hadn’t gone quietly. Her shrill voice had echoed across the castle and beyond while Ceard and the other warriors escorted her out.
And with Lady MacNichol’s departure, the cruel whispers and cold glances ceased. Those women who’d been influenced by Gavin’s mother lost their leader. Overnight, their manner toward Ella softened. No longer did the ladies rise from their sewing and embroidery, mutter excuses, and hurry off when Ella approached. No longer did servants sneer and turn their backs upon her.
Of course, everyone had witnessed the ugly scene with Abbot Camron, and the one that followed with Lady MacNichol afterward. They’d seen Ella throw knives during the games and defend herself verbally against the abbot—and they’d seen Gavin’s harshness toward those who crossed him, toward those who threatened his wife.
It wasn’t a lesson any of them were likely to forget soon.
Ella’s attention shifted ahead to where Gavin urged Saorsa on. He’d tied his thick blond hair back at his nape this morning, and a cloak hung from his broad shoulders. The warmth of summer was indeed fading, and as such both she and Gavin had donned plaid cloaks for their ride. The mantle emphasized the strength and breadth of Gavin’s shoulders, his straight yet relaxed posture in the saddle.
Excitement fluttered in the base of Ella’s belly at the sight of him. Gavin had always been handsome and charismatic, but ever since Lughnasadh, she’d found him irresistible. It shocked her a little that she’d liked seeing the ruthless edge to his character. He was a fair, kind-hearted man, but he wasn’t to be crossed. Her chest constricted then.
Lord, how she adored him.
Up ahead Gavin waved to his brother. Blair was in the midst of shoeing an ill-tempered horse. The beast nipped and kicked at him as he struggled with it. Sweat trickled down Blair’s red face when he glanced up and grunted a greeting.
Gavin led the way out of the castle, under the portcullis, and down the causeway to the village. Ella followed close at his heels. Although the wind was cold, she enjoyed the feel of it on her face. They had been riding a few times since their return to Scorrybreac, but this outing was special; this time they were alone. Not even Ceard accompanied them.
As soon as they left Scorrybreac behind, Gavin urged his mare into a swift canter. Ella did the same, and moments later they were racing south-west, over undulating hills toward the thick woodland that filled a shallow inland vale.
The excitement continued to tighten within Ella’s belly as she rode. They hadn’t spoken of today’s destination, yet she knew where Gavin was headed.
They were going to a place where she hadn’t set foot in eighteen years—a place where their story had begun.
The clearing in the heart of the copse of birches looked exactly the same. The burn still trickled across mossy rocks. It was as if time had stood still there.
Glancing around her, Ella drew Fàd up. It was sheltered in the glade, the gusting wind hardly seemed to touch them.
Wordlessly, both she and Gavin dismounted, tying their horses up to a coppicing tree.
Picking up her skirts, Ella walked into the center of the clearing, her boots sinking into the carpet of soft moss that grew upon the banks of the burn. And as she stood there, all the memories she’d kept locked up for so many years flooded back.
Her breathing hitched, and when Gavin stepped up beside her, she turned to him, burying her face in his broad chest. In response, Gavin’s arms encircled Ella’s back, and he drew her close.
“I used to come back to this place sometimes,” he murmured into her hair. “When life at Scorrybreac grew wearisome, I’d escape and lose myself in my memories. It made life easier to bear … the knowledge that ye had once been part of my life.”
“I tried not to think of this place,” Ella admitted softly. “It was too painful.”
“Ye are strong, Ella,” he whispered, his fingers wreathing through her hair. “I always knew it.”
“And stubborn,” she reminded him with a wry smile he couldn’t see. “Don’t forget that.”
His hands still entangled in her hair, Gavin gently pulled Ella’s head back so that their gazes met. “I never thought this day would come,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming, “that ye and I would stand together in this place again.”
