Page 31 of Fallen
Mother Shona’s gaze shadowed, and she sighed. “As ye know … after I fled from those brigands, I would have surely starved if a group of outlaws hadn’t found me,” she continued. “They became my family for a time.” The abbess’s mouth lifted at the corners then. “A man named Aaron led the band. He was charismatic, strong, and so arrogant that just being near him robbed me of coherent thought. The moment he took me in, I knew that I was in trouble.”
Coira made a surprised sound at this, but Mother Shona pushed on. “During my time with the outlaws, I simply became Shona, a wild young woman who ran with the wolves. And after the first summer had passed, Aaron and I became lovers.” The abbess halted there. She met Coira’s eye once more, her gaze gleaming. “I was never happier than when I was with him. We had a hard life, but an exciting one. I never lost my faith though … my prayers were always sacred to me … and he knew what I’d given up to remain with him.”
The abbess paused then, her expression changing. Her eyes developed a faraway look, as she lost herself in memories. “Scotland was immersed in dangerous times during those years; we were engaged in a violent struggle against the English. Soon enough, there was an uprising, and our band got dragged into it.” Mother Shona’s eyes fluttered shut then. “I lost him in the battle that crushed Scottish hope. A few of us survived, but sadly Aaron didn’t.”
Mother Shona inhaled sharply, her shoulders squaring. “Without Aaron, living as a fugitive lost its appeal. I decided that I would take the veil once more. But this time I traveled to a far-flung corner of Scotland where I could leave my past safely behind me.” The abbess shifted her attention back to Coira then, and she gave a wry smile. “Ye see, Sister. Ye are not the only one with a weakness for handsome rogues.”
For a few moments, Coira was at a loss as to how to respond. When she did, her voice was subdued. “It must have been hard to go back to a nun’s life after all that.”
“It was … at first,” the abbess admitted. “But then I realized that it’s much easier to take a vow of chastity when ye know exactly what it is ye are giving up. I felt very lucky with Aaron. We had four years together … years that I will forever cherish. But because of that, I was able to give myself wholeheartedly to serving God.” Mother Shona’s gaze grew intense then. “What I’m trying to say … is that what ye felt for Craeg was natural. Ye are a woman, and he is a man … and men like him are difficult to resist. Take what ye felt for him, cherish it, and put it somewhere safe within yer heart. It is part of who ye are now, but don’t use it as a stick to beat yerself with. Such self-blame will only make ye miserable … and how can ye do the Lord’s work then?”
Coira gazed back at Mother Shona. Once again, she had no idea how to respond. The abbess had completely floored her. This woman’s wisdom had always been an anchoring force in the abbey, and it was no different now.
A little of the guilt that had formed a hard knot in Coira’s chest unraveled. Mother Shona was right; she needed to find a way to make peace with her conscience.
Silence stretched between the two women, and when Coira eventually broke it, her voice was subdued. “There’s something else, Mother … something I have never told ye.”
The abbess frowned, and Coira dropped her gaze to her lap, nervousness fluttering in her belly. There was a good reason why she’d never spoken of this to a soul. However, she might never have the opportunity to confide in Mother Shona like this again. She had to tell her everything.
Clearing her throat, Coira forced herself to look up and met the abbess’s eye. “Ye know of my past,” she murmured. “But I’ve never told ye about the man who is the real reason I fled to Kilbride … the man who nearly broke me.”
13
The Odds are Against Them
“CRAEG, WAKE UP.”
Gunn’s rough voice jerked Craeg from a fitful slumber. Sprawled out upon a fur in his tent—a lean-to that had been built up against the rocky side of the ravine—he’d been dreaming. It had been a pleasant dream. He’d been back at Kilbride again, and Sister Coira had been leaning over him, her cool fingertips tracing lines across his naked chest.
However, Gunn brought him rudely back to the present, and the vision of lovely Coira evaporated like morning mist.
“Satan’s cods, Gunn. What is it?” Craeg pushed himself up into a sitting position and scrubbed a hand over his face. His heart was racing after being torn from a deep sleep. He felt disoriented in the aftermath.
“Sorry to wake ye,” Gunn replied, not sounding sorry in the least. “But we’ve got a problem, and I thought ye would want to know.”
The last of sleep sloughed away, and suddenly Craeg was alert. “What’s wrong?”
“The two men from Dunan who joined our ranks a few days ago are both unwell,” he replied, his voice flattening. “I’m no healer, but I think it’s the sickness.”
A chill settled in the pit of Craeg’s gut at this news, seeping outward. It was as if he’d just stepped, waist-deep, into a freezing loch. “Where are they?”
“We’ve isolated them from the rest of the camp in a tent at the end of the ravine,” Gunn replied. “Ye had best come and see for yerself.”
Craeg walked through the camp, aware of the anxious gazes that tracked his progress. Unlike when he’d returned here from Kilbride, there were no cheery waves and relieved smiles. News of the two sick men had spread through the ravine—faster than any illness could.
If he was honest, Craeg didn’t want to go anywhere near the men from Dunan.
He’d been awaiting the arrival of the pestilence for a while now, and the chill the news had given him had not yet abated. But he couldn’t show fear or weakness in front of his people. Every man, woman, and child here was his responsibility. They had all come here to aid him, and he wouldn’t turn his back on them.
Until this morning, things had been progressing well for the outlaws. Craeg had deliberately been taking his men out on patrols and letting locals catch glimpses of him. One of them was sure to bring word to MacKinnon.
The pungent, woody aroma of burning sage greeted Craeg as he approached the long tent pitched in the shadow of an overhang. Someone had lit burning pots of herbs outside the door. Sage was said to chase away the dark humors that caused sickness. However, right at that moment, Craeg didn’t set much store in its ability to ward off the pestilence.
Fenella stood outside, waiting for him, and when Craeg halted before the entrance to the tent, he met her eye. “How bad is it?”
“They both have terrible pains to the belly, and are racked with chills. I’m told these are the first signs,” she murmured, her blue eyes shadowed.
Craeg set his jaw.Great.“I should speak to them,” he said, hoping the reluctance didn’t show in his voice.
