Page 70 of Awoken
She hoped that wasn’t the case.
While MacKinnon and his men had searched the abbey, she’d remained in the kirk, silently praying before the altar. She’d heard heavy footfalls as men entered and searched the alcoves nearby—yet none of the warriors spoke to her.
Tension had slowly ebbed from Coira at that—maybe MacKinnon hadn’t recognized her after all. Nonetheless, she’d have to be more careful in future.
“Enter.” Mother Shona’s voice, soft yet firm, filtered out into the humid air.
Coira pushed the door open and walked into the cool, lofty space beyond. The abbess’s hall was a long space divided in two by a heavy hanging that shrouded the sleeping quarters from the living area. It was a clean, simply furnished space with a scrubbed flagstone floor, a small wooden desk, and a hearth flanked by two high-backed chairs. Mother Shona sat upon one, a heavy leather-bound book upon her knee.
“A message has come for ye, Mother.” Coira crossed the floor to the abbess and handed her the scroll before lowering herself on one knee so that Mother Shona could bless her.
Once the abbess had done so, she rose to her feet and turned to go.
“Please stay, Sister Coira,” the abbess said with a smile, gesturing to the chair opposite. “Let’s see who has written to us.”
Coira did as bid, settling into the chair without comment. She wasn’t a ‘chatty’ woman, and fortunately Mother Shona seemed to appreciate nuns who didn’t feel the need to fill a silence with conversation. Even so, as the abbess began to undo the scroll, her gaze settled upon Coira—and she frowned.
“Is something amiss, Sister … ye have seemed a little distracted of late.”
Coira tensed. She sometimes forgot just how perceptive the abbess was; she missed very little and was highly attuned to the moods of those living within the walls of Kilbride.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Coira replied with a weak smile. Although the abbess was the only one here who knew most of the truth about Coira’s past, she’d never confided in Mother Shona about her history with Duncan MacKinnon—and didn’t intend to. Some things could never be spoken about. “I suppose I just worry for Sister Leanna.”
Mother Shona’s gaze clouded, and she nodded. “As do I.”
Unfurling the missive and scanning it, the abbess’s expression suddenly cleared. “What a happy coincidence, Sister. This letter is from Leanna … she is well and—” The abbess broke off there as her brown eyes grew wide. She glanced up then, her gaze spearing Coira’s. “She’s married.”
Epilogue
Breathless
The Isle of Barra, Scotland
One month later …
LEANNA LEANED OVER the pot, brow furrowing in concentration while she sprinkled some fresh rosemary in. The mutton stew had been simmering since dawn, and a rich meaty aroma filled the interior of the cottage. It was nearly ready to serve.
Stepping back from the hearth, Leanna wiped her arm over her sweating brow. The air was smoky and close inside the dwelling despite that she had opened both the small windows.
Golden summer light filtered into the one-room space, and for a moment Leanna paused, taking in her surroundings.
The cottage had been a mess when they’d first arrived—the roof had needed fixing, and rodents and cobwebs filled the filthy interior. After a couple of days, Leanna had scoured it clean and set about making it comfortable to live in.
Ross had repaired the gaps in the roof, and Leanna had gotten to work filling their shelves with stores and drying bunches of herbs, which scented the once musty air.
A heavy blanket curtained off the living space from the stuffed straw mattress where she and Ross slept. However, Leanna had drawn back the curtain this morning to air the bed.
Leanna’s breathing quickened a little when her gaze rested upon the mattress. Her days were long and tiring, yet every evening excitement curled in the pit of her belly in anticipation of retiring for the night with her husband. One month since their wedding, and she was still discovering carnal desire, still delighting in new ways to be pleasured and give pleasure.
And every morning when she awoke and looked upon her husband’s face, joy filtered through her, along with a sense of belonging she’d never before experienced.
Letting out a contented sigh, Leanna wiped her hands upon the apron that covered the plain brown kirtle she wore and walked outdoors.
The garden was another thing that she’d transformed over the past moon. When they’d arrived here, it had been overgrown, a wild tangle of herbs and vegetables, many of which had simply self-seeded in the wrong places.
There, in one corner grew the apple tree sapling she’d planted in honor of her father. Ross had brought it back one day after a trip to market. The tree was getting a foothold in the stony soil this year, but next summer she hoped it would bear fruit. There were also two older apple trees growing on the slope behind the cottage, which would hopefully pollinate it.
The rest of the garden was slowly taking shape.
