Page 49 of Fallen
“MACKINNON … ARE YE unwell?”
Duncan MacKinnon’s head snapped up at the abbess’s enquiry.
No, he wasn’t.His head hurt. His body ached. And it felt like someone had just taken a stick to him. Not only that, but he was sweating as if he sat next to a roaring fire. Although it was a cool morning, the air heavy with mist, it felt the hottest day of the year to him. There was no doubt about it, he was getting sick. Yet he wasn’t about to admit his frailty—not to this bloody woman.
“I’m fine,” he rasped and returned his attention to where he was tightening his horse’s girth.
“So ye know the location of the outlaw camp?” she asked.
Duncan shot her a hard look. He was grateful she’d changed the subject, but the gleam in the abbess’s eyes made him suspicious of her. Mother Shona was taking far too much interest in his affairs. Indeed, Keith and the others had returned with news that they’d tracked the outlaw and nun into the mountains. They’d taken refuge in a hidden ravine.
Still, it mattered not if she knew his intent this morning.
“Aye,” he growled. “They’re hiding out in the mountains east of Kilbride … and we’re heading there to slaughter them.”
The abbess appeared to flinch at the brutality of his words, and despite that he felt like death warmed up, MacKinnon managed a grim smile. This pious woman, with her peaceful ways, paled at such violent talk.
He held her gaze for a moment, darkness stirring within him. He hadn’t been making idle threats to Coira. He’d meant it when he’d told her that he’d butcher the abbess and her flock of nuns if Coira didn’t return to Dunan with him.
But Coira had still defied him. Right now, she was with his bastard brother.
Duncan’s already aching belly, twisted.Anyone but him. She’ll pay for disobeying me.
When he’d dealt with his brother, and his ragged band, Duncan would return to this abbey and slit this annoying woman’s throat. Then he’d torch this place.
As if glimpsing the violence in his eyes, the abbess drew back and made the sign of the cross before her.
“Peace be with ye, MacKinnon,” she murmured, her voice cowed.
Duncan flashed her a harsh smile. “Aye … it will be.”
He swung up onto his horse’s back and twisted in the saddle, noting that the rest of his men had also mounted and were awaiting his orders.
A wave of nausea washed over Duncan then, and he clutched the pommel of the saddle.Satan’s cods, I feel wretched. Fear slithered in the pit of his belly, cold and clammy.Is it the plague?
No—he wouldn’t entertain the thought. He’d merely eaten something that had made him ill.
“We ride!” He called out, gathering his reins. Turning his horse on its haunches, he urged it toward the open gates.
Mother Shona watched the clan-chief and his men empty out of the yard. One moment the space had been filled with men and horses—the next she stood alone, listening to the drum of hoof-beats as they galloped east.
Murmuring a prayer, she crossed herself once more.
The good Lord protect me … that man is evil.
She’d never looked into someone’s eyes and feared for her life like she just had. She’d seen his intent, as clear as if he’d spoken the words.
He planned to kill her.
Heart drumming against her ribs, Mother Shona wiped her damp palms on her skirts, her gaze still upon the open gate where the clan-chief had just departed.
MacKinnon was sick. He could deny it all he wanted, yet the pallor of his face, the sheen of sweat upon his skin, and the way he moved as if he’d suddenly aged overnight told a different tale. The sickness had dug its claws into him.
Still, the knowledge didn’t make him any less dangerous. He wasn’t ill enough to be prevented from spilling blood today.
A chill feathered down Mother Shona’s nape. Until now, Kilbride had been a sanctuary against the sickness, yet MacKinnon had brought it here. How many of them would fall ill because of him?
The abbess clenched her jaw, her gaze still upon the empty gateway. She recalled the things Sister Coira had told her, of how MacKinnon had tormented her.
