Page 25 of Fallen
The argument had escalated after Mother Shona had thwarted the abbot. He’d bellowed and threatened, yet the abbess had stood firm.
In the end, he’d turned and stormed from the abbess’s hall, leaving a hollow silence in his wake.
Coira’s legs had weakened with relief at the sound of the door slamming shut, yet she knew it was but a brief reprieve. Father Camron would be out for her blood now.
At least Craeg got away.
Coira’s fingers, clasped together in prayer, curled into each other. Since returning to the abbey, she’d done her best not to think about the outlaw. Having to deal with the abbot had been a distraction, as had her cold and discomfort as she knelt on the floor of the kirk.
But with this last thought, her shields came down.
Suddenly, she was back there in that dark, windy glade, staring up into his eyes. His face had been beautiful in the moonlight, had seemed carven from marble, yet his touch—feather light and reverent—had been warm.
His touch had lit a fire within her. Coira’s return to the abbey had banked it momentarily, but now that Craeg crept back into her thoughts, it flared once more.
How she’d wanted him to kiss her. How her fingertips had ached to touch him, to trace that thin silver scar on his face.
A lump rose in Coira’s throat, and it hurt to swallow. The abbot would have her flayed for such thoughts. Maybe he wasn’t that wrong about her after all.
A nun shouldn’t desire a man’s touch.
A burning sensation rose behind Coira’s closed eyelids, and she squeezed them even tighter shut, forcing back tears. She hadn’t wept in years, had thought she’d forgotten how.
This wasn’t any good. She couldn’t continue like this—as soon as she could, Coira would seek the abbess’s counsel. Mother Shona would teach her how to overcome this weakness.
She has to.
11
A Fiery Dawn
IT TOOK CRAEG longer than he’d expected to reach his camp.
His injury had weakened him on a deeper level than he’d realized. Aye, he could walk, yet he seemed to have lost his stamina. It was as if the soured wound and the terrible fever that followed had both sapped him of strength.
As such, he found himself needing to rest numerous times during the journey inland, especially once the land steepened. The woods gave way to scrub-covered hills, and then stony slopes.
The wind whipped against Craeg as he climbed, cooling his heated cheeks. Yet it wasn’t enough to keep exhaustion at bay.
Panting, he stopped halfway up the mountainside and lowered himself onto a rock to rest. He reached inside the small leather pack the nuns had given him and withdrew a bladder of beer before taking a few gulps. The liquid revived him, yet his limbs felt as if they were weighted down with boulders.
Once he got to safety, he’d have to spend a few days resting up. He was no use to his people in this state—as weak as a newborn lamb.
Seated there upon the mountainside, staring up at the windy sky, where the clouds chased each other over the glowing face of the moon, Craeg enjoyed a rare moment of solitude. A lot of responsibility had rested upon his shoulders of late. Despite the attack on their old camp earlier in the summer, his followers had swollen in number once more.
Folk throughout MacKinnon territory had heard about the skirmish, and many men—farmers and shepherds mostly—had left their families to join his cause.
Craeg’s jaw tensed as he dwelled upon just how much these men trusted him.
He wouldn’t let them down. Until now, he’d been content to make his half-brother’s life difficult. It had been enough to rob from him, to inconvenience him. But the situation had shifted. MacKinnon had tortured and murdered Craeg’s friend. His guard had killed a number of Craeg’s followers.
It had been personal before, a grudge that followed Craeg like his shadow. But now the need for vengeance burned like an ulcer in his gut.
I’m going to bring him down.
An idea formed in his mind then—one that would require a huge risk. He’d never be able to get to his half-brother behind Dunan’s high walls. Instead, he needed to draw him out.
Craeg’s mouth thinned. This time, when Duncan MacKinnon went looking for the outlaws, he’d be ready for him.
