Page 69 of Unforgotten
The words sounded barren, spoken so simply. Just a few sentences to encapsulate such pain, such loss. There were no words that would ever explain the grief that had consumed Ella after losing her son. She couldn’t even begin to describe it now.
Gordana’s gaze widened, the coldness disappearing as her eyes filled with tears. “No, Ella,” she whispered. “Why did ye not send word?”
“Ye know why,” Ella replied. “Foolishly, I thought our affair had been secret … Gavin had a new life with Innis, and I didn’t want to interfere. Telling him wouldn’t change anything.”
“Does he know now?”
“Aye … I have told him everything.”
The two women stared at each other for a long moment, before Gordana put aside her embroidery. Ella noted that her hands shook. She then moved to the stool next to Ella and placed her arms around her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Ye must have felt so alone.”
Ella swallowed. She didn’t want to dwell on those dark days. “I did,” she admitted, “but ye must believe me when I tell ye that none of this was planned. I hated leaving Kilbride and given the choice would have stayed there.”
Gordana pulled back, her cheeks wet with tears. “Ye didn’t want to wed Gavin then?”
Ella snorted. “It’s not that … yer mother talks as if I threw off my habit and ran naked into the sunset with yer brother without a second thought, but the situation was more complicated than that. Gavin agreed to wed me to save me from MacKinnon, and I agreed in order to save the abbess and the other nuns at Kilbride from MacKinnon’s wrath.” She paused there as she felt her own eyelids start to prickle.
Being with Gavin again, being able to touch him and kiss him, to drift off to sleep in his arms and awake cradled against his chest, made her so happy that she sometimes felt as if her heart would burst. She wasn’t sure if she could describe such a feeling without weeping. “What I’m trying to say, is that both Gavin and I wed for other reasons … but that doesn’t alter the fact that we are meant for each other … I feel as if I’m my best self when I’m at his side.”
Gordana offered her a watery smile. “Despite all the tension since ye have returned, I’ve never seen him look happier. I’m sorry I’ve been so cold … Ma has been filling my ears with awful stories about the two of ye over the past days. It’s been wearing me down.”
Ella smiled back. “So, are we friends again?”
Gordana covered Ella’s hand with hers, squeezing hard. “Always.”
Gavin went looking for his wife in the afternoon to find her resting in their bed-chamber.
Closing the door gently behind him, he moved across to the bed and sat down next to where Ella lay. She slept upon her side, still fully dressed in the cream-colored léine and dark-blue kirtle she’d donned that morning. However, she’d kicked off her slippers and unbound her hair. The long coppery tresses fell over the pillow in soft waves.
An ache rose in Gavin’s chest at the sight of her.
Sleep had erased all the tension from her face; she looked young as a maid again, her full lips parted, her long lashes dark auburn against her smooth cheeks.
The past two weeks had been more difficult than he’d anticipated. His mother had launched a campaign against him and Ella, and had successfully turned most of the keep against them.
None of them were rude to his face, but he saw their expressions, the look in their eyes. He’d also heard the ridiculous yet damaging rumors his mother had spread about Ella being a witch. He’d have laughed them off, if he didn’t know just how determined his mother could be when thwarted. He’d never seen her so bitter.
The time was coming when he’d have to make a decision about Maggie MacNichol. If she remained at Scorrybreac, she risked causing even greater trouble.
Ella stirred then, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. “Have I slept long?” she murmured, her sea-blue eyes fixing upon him.
“I don’t think so,” he replied with a smile.
“What have ye been up to?” she asked, covering her mouth as she gave a small yawn. She then propped herself up onto an elbow. This kirtle was low-cut, revealing a deep, creamy cleavage.
“I’ve spent the afternoon dealing out justice to two men caught stealing cattle,” Gavin replied. He reached out, brushing the upper swell of her breast with the back of his hand.
“What happened?”
“Some folk want them hung for the crime.” Gavin began to unlace the bodice of her kirtle. “But I’ve ordered a flogging instead.”
“Really?” Ella looked up at him, her gaze veiled, her breathing coming faster now. “Why is that?”
Gavin’s mouth curved. “Cattle-rustling is a crime to be sure,” he replied. “But I’d rather save hangings for outlaws and cutthroats.”
Her gaze shadowed at his words. “It must be difficult to make such decisions.”
“It’s the lot of a clan-chief, mo ghràdh.”
