A Fearless Rebel Page 2
His mother kept a smile on her face. “A walk in the garden would be nice. I understand ye not wishing to be around people. Although my experience was not as horrible as yers, I am still nervous when guards are about.”
“Very well.”
Keithen peeked in through the door when his mother motioned him forward. Catriona stood with her back to him. Her auburn hair cascaded down her back. Although she was looking outside and he couldn’t see her face, he knew her eyes to be a striking amber brown and her sweet freckled face, once cute, was now astonishingly lovely.
They’d grown up together. For as long as he could remember, Catriona had been part of his life. Of the three, Esme, Catriona and him, she’d always been the more sensible, keeping them in line when they were about to get into troubling situations.
“Mother, I wished to come and greet ye and Catriona.” Keithen kept his voice calm, hoping to not startle Catriona.
She whirled around, eyes rounded, mouth open. Her gaze moved to his face only for a split second before she once again turned away, seeming as if she wished to disappear.
“How fare ye, Catriona?” Keithen asked in as soft a voice as he could muster.
Moments passed without a reply. “I am well.”
It was a lie, but the reply alone was much more than he’d gotten since her attack. Just recently, she’d began to speak to him, only a word here or there. For the most part, it was obvious she didn’t wish to see him or any other man for that matter.
“I am glad to hear it.” He looked to his mother, who stood and went to Catriona’s side. “Now, off for a walk we go. Ye promised me. The gardens will be empty.”
Knowing Catriona did not wish him to accompany them, Keithen walked out. It was good that Catriona would leave the room. He hoped it was the beginning of her healing.
After their experience, his mother and Catriona would share the horrible bond of being taken by an enemy clan.
Although both women had been released when his father and a large army had ridden out to demand it, it was obvious by their appearances that his mother had been treated well. As a laird’s wife, she’d been kept in plush accommodations and had been invited to join the family for meals. All the while, Catriona had been handed over to the guards to do with her as they pleased.
Other than not killing her, no boundaries had been set.
Now the once vibrant woman was an empty shell. The hollowness in her eyes showed just how little was left. Catriona was forever changed and the only thing Keithen could think to do was to avenge what had happened.
He went to the kitchen and asked to be served a bowl of whatever was left over.
“Ye will have a good meal,” Eileen, the head cook, pronounced, and immediately ordered the kitchen maid to cook something quickly. Within minutes, he had a plate of meat and stewed carrots along with bread and a tankard of ale.
Although hungry, he barely tasted the food. He needed nourishment for his vengeance plan to continue. Every time he saw Catriona, the need to find those responsible for what had happened grew stronger.
No matter if he ended up dead in the end, the men would pay for what they had done.
His mother entered the kitchen just moments later and asked the cook for warm porridge for Catriona and then lowered to sit across from him.
“She didn’t wish to remain outside for long. I have been unable to persuade her to spend more than a few moments out of her chamber. Thankfully, Flora will return tomorrow, and she is especially patient and good with her.”
His sister, Esme, had hired a woman from the village, whose husband had been killed in the Mackenzie attack, to be a caregiver for Catriona.
As he listened, he realized his mother probably felt guilty for the difference in the way she and Catriona had been treated.
“Mother, did ye ask them to bring Catriona to stay inside with ye?”
Lady Fraser nodded. “Over and again. I pleaded for it. I told the Mackenzie that she was family. I thought perhaps they kept her in another part of the house, locked in a room. I never once suspected that she was in the dungeon. Poor child.” Her voice cracked. “And now that man expects us to accept his daughter in our own home?”
Keithen wasn’t aware his mother knew of the decision. Then again, it made sense that his father would have informed her.
“I am not sure how I will ever accept a Mackenzie as yer wife,” his mother pronounced.
Chapter Two
The silence of the forest filled Ava Mackenzie with peace. Throughout her life, it was the one place she could run away to and be alone with her thoughts. Away from the constant scrutiny of others, she didn’t have to worry about saying or doing something that would be cause for scolding or worse by her father.
Absently, she rubbed her upper left arm and winced. Under her sleeve, the arm was purpled from the tight grip of her father’s hand the night before. This time, he’d been especially annoyed at her for not participating in hosting a visiting laird and his wife. In truth, she’d forgotten. So many people came and went without fanfare. Most visited out of fear and a wish to remain in Laird Mackenzie’s good graces.
The events hosted at Mackenzie Keep were never enjoyable. Every minute slogged by as people fought to feign interest.
Every so often, her parents would host an awkward affair. The meals would consist of stunted conversations and constant grandstanding by her father. To make it even worse, he acted as if every dish presented should astound the visitors.
It was sickening, and despite the bruising, she was glad to have missed the entire affair. Now, the visiting laird was gone and the keep was quiet. Her father had pronounced it to be a good day to hunt and had left with a group of men.
Why he hunted remained a mystery to Ava. Her father had to be extremely careful of who he chose as any of the men could kill him and call it an accident. If they all collaborated, there would be no refuting it. Despite the danger, her father preferred to come across as brave and well-liked.
He often claimed that many clansmen asked to go on the hunts and it was hard to pick who to allow each time. The lie was obvious as he seemed to take the same four men.
The hunting party was usually flanked by twenty or more guardsmen, which meant they rarely caught a boar. If anything, the scouts who were sent ahead to begin the search for the beast were probably the ones who either killed the animal or maimed it so that her father could deal the death blow.
Sounds like that of a horse startled her and she scanned the surroundings but saw no one. Once again, there was a nicker, and she leaned forward atop her own mount to look. She’d purposely gone in the opposite direction of where her father and his entourage had gone, so she didn’t suspect it was them.
She pulled her horse to a stop and listened intently. Once again, she heard the sound like that of an animal in distress. With a short sword in her right hand, Ava urged her mount in the direction of the sound. Moments later, she found the source of the noise. A horse’s reins had been caught on a low tree branch in such a way that the animal could not get loose.
Upon dismounting, she approached the animal, speaking softly to it while stroking its nose. The horse seemed to realize she’d help, so other than a few snorts of complaint, it calmed.
“There now, why are ye here alone? Where is yer master?” Ava whispered while tugging at the tangled reins. When it became clear she’d not be able to untie the reins, she used her short dagger to cut them loose from the thorny bush.
Once the animal was able to move away from the tree, it took several steps backward but did not flee. It was a tamed horse. By the looks of it, the horse had been well taken care of. Since the animal was on Mackenzie land, she figured it belonged to one of the guardsmen or was one of her own father’s stable horses.
She searched the area for a few moments but didn’t see anyone about. As much as she wanted to call out, at the same time, it was dangerous to call attention in case someone had attacked the horse’s rider and remained nearby.
Since she’d cut the reins, it was not possible to tether the horse to hers. Instead, she held the longer cut portion of the reins so she could bring the horse back to Mackenzie Keep.
As soon as she passed the gates, several guards hurried to her. One of the guards eyed the horse and then looked to her. Her brother, Alastair, hurried forward and glared up at her.
Ava cringed. Her brother would not hesitate to inform her father that she’d been out alone, and she’d be punished.
“Where did ye find that horse?”
She considered not telling him as it would divulge her favorite place to ride and get away. But when he yanked her from the horse and shook her, she decided to comply. “In the woods, just south.”
Alastair’s upper lip curled. “Who were ye there to meet?”
“No one. I went to be alone.”
“With Father’s permission?”
“Of course,” Ava lied, meeting his gaze. “I did not see anyone injured or about. But I did not call out. The horse’s reins had become entangled in low thorny branches.”
She hoped that by directing the conversation away from his question, he would not realize she’d lied about having permission.
Without another word, Alastair turned on his heel and hurried to where several guards stood. “Ten guards mount at once,” he directed, pointing to her. “My sister will show us where she found the horse.”
“Ye recognize the horse then?” Ava asked her brother, who gave her an annoyed look.
“Aye, of course. He is one of our warhorses.”
“Who would have ridden it?”
Her brother studied her for a moment. “Perhaps who ye went to meet with.”
Not wishing to continue arguing, Ava returned to her horse and mounted.
It wasn’t long before they reached the area where she’d found the horse. The guards dismounted and began searching the area. It was less than an hour later when one called out, and everyone scrambled to the spot.
On the ground lay a Mackenzie guard that Ava recognized. The man was cruel. That much, she knew about him, so she’d had done her best to avoid him. Whoever had killed him had cut the man several times from all the bloodstains on his tunic.
“It’s obvious there was a fight of some kind,” one of the men said.
“Probably an angry husband,” another added, and they laughed.
“Or an intruder,” someone else said. “A poacher or trespasser.”
“Do any of ye know why he would be out here? Could it be he was a spy, a traitor?” her brother, who always seemed to look for the worst in people, asked.
No one replied. Instead, they looked at one another. Of course, they would not give an opinion as it could possibly paint them as part of a conspiracy.
The dead man was thrown over the back of a horse, and the group split. Two men rode back to the keep while the rest would stay behind and search for clues.
Ava had dismounted and she guided her horse to a creek to drink. Her brother came up behind her. “Go back to the keep.”
“I will,” she snapped, not in the mood for his continuing attempt to intimidate her.
He sized her up. “Why were ye really here?”
“Because I like it.” She motioned to the surroundings. “It’s peaceful and beautiful. There is rarely anyone here as they’d have to cross a long distance through our lands to reach this point.”
“Whoever killed Graham made it this far,” Alastair pointed out.
Ava lifted a brow. “Then perhaps the killer is one of our own.”
For a brief moment, his eyes lowered to the short sword at her waist. “I suppose ye could be right.”
When her brother turned away, Ava lifted her foot. Beneath her boot was a dagger that had been partially buried in the soft mud of the creek bank. She recognized the insignia.
A stag, with the words, “Je Suis Prest”.
The Fraser crest.
Quickly, she stuck it into a hidden pocket in her serviceable skirts and hurried to mount her horse. Was it possible that it was indeed a Fraser who was killing their guardsmen?
Mind awhirl, she rode back to the keep. There had to be a way to speak to a Fraser and warn them that if whoever it was continued to do this, her father would not touch his heart in retaliation.
He’d send the entire warrior force to decimate the Fraser Clan, without regard for what the aftereffects would be. It would mean years of war against the larger Fraser Clans and anyone affiliated with them.
Ava felt physically ill. She grew increasingly tired of the constant chaos that was her life. If only she would have been married off to a man who was strong enough to take her away from her father’s lands.
Instead, her late husband had been weak and too eager to please the Mackenzie. He’d forsaken his own lands and people to move to Mackenzie Keep. The decision had ultimately caused his demise.
When a pair of deer appeared just in front of her, Ava froze, watching them. After seeing her, the duo disappeared into the woods.
Ava watched as they vanished, envious of their freedom.
“There ye are.” Her mother stood just inside the great room when Ava returned home. Her face was a study of consternation. “What have ye done now? Yer father is most upset by yer actions.”
Ava spoke in a sing-song voice as if reciting a beautiful poem. “I forgot about our visitors and was not there to help entertain them. He’s already threatened me with the worst punishment, to send me to a nunnery to live my days, in prayer, in fasting, days and nights upon my knees.”
Her mother frowned. “Why do ye say it like so?”
“Perhaps because life in a church sounds appealing.”
Lady Mackenzie didn’t reply. Her mother would never understand. As hard of heart as her father and brother, her mother rarely showed caring.
Ava often wondered why she didn’t have the same disposition as they did. It certainly would help deal with the many unfair things her father had done through the years.
“Come along, dear. We must discuss yer trousseau.”
“For what, Mother?”
“As ye well know and insist on ignoring, ye will be married as soon as yer mourning is over.”
Ava looked down at her dark clothes. Since her husband’s death, she’d grown fond of wearing the nondescript colors. Wearing clothing that fit loosely and unflattering had allowed her more freedom to move about, practice archery and ride.
“What about a pale blue?” her mother was asking. Ava wasn’t sure what she was referring to.
Ava attempted a calm smile. “I do not plan to get married, Mother. Like my late husband, this poor man will end up dead as soon as he disagrees with Father about anything.”
Her mother straightened and pinned her with an annoyed look. “Do not add kindling to the fire. Ye should be the first to stand up and deny any rumor that, in any way, yer father had anything to do with Gilbert’s death.”
“Gillian,” Ava corrected.
“Yes, right.” Her mother let out a sigh. “I could never remember his name. It must have been a sign. I will do my best to memorize this one’s name. Keithen, isn’t it?”
At the name, a current traveled down her spine, and she remembered the handsome young man. “I am not marrying. I do not wish to be a widow twice.”
“Enough!” her mother exclaimed and motioned for her to follow. “I had the maid bring out some of yer more colorful gowns. Ye will not wear any more of those dreadful rags ye insist on donning.”
“My husband has not been dead a year as yet,” Ava complained. In truth, she did not have any desire to wear anything colorful or have her hair brushed into complicated styles. The less attractive she looked, the longer she could remain unattached. Her father, for the most part, had let her be since Gillian’s death. It was only as of late, in the last cou
ple months, that he’d decided to marry her off for whatever gain he planned.
There was no doubt in her mind that the marriage was planned in order for her father to further grow the amount of land he was laird over. He wanted the Fraser land, and the marriage was his first step toward getting it.
They entered her mother’s sitting room to find it transformed into a dressmaker’s shop. The array of colorful clothing on display made Ava flinch. Everywhere her eyes landed, there were gowns and shawls of every color imaginable. Never in her life had she seen so many ruffles. The display included garish flower hair adornments, gloves and slippers.
“Ye do realize we live in the Highlands and these clothes are absolutely useless to wear?” Ava motioned to the hair clips. “It seems fashion has changed quite a bit since I last wore color. The last I heard, no one wears feathers anymore.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Where would ye hear such a thing?”
“When the Grants were here. Do ye not remember how Lady Grant and her daughters wore their hair in ribbon-wrapped plaits? They wore muted tones of green and amber and only a simple cross on a leather ribbon around their necks.”
“They are certainly not someone I would take any kind of fashion advice from!” Her mother shivered. “It was hard not to laugh at the ridiculous hairstyles.”
Ava had to admit the plaits weren’t at all flattering on any of them. However, the hair ornaments that looked as if they’d been pulled from a very disturbed bird wouldn’t be any better.
“Where did ye find this, Mother?”
Lady Mackenzie straightened. “I suppose ye don’t remember as ye insisted on staying next to yer husband’s deathbed. Yer aunt and uncle visited, and my sister brought them from her travels to India. Or was it England?” As her mother concentrated, Ava lifted one of the adornments.
“I do not believe a bird exists that has these feathers. They must be dyed.”
“Ye do not have to wear the feathers, but I would like to see ye in something different for dinner. We have visitors coming any day now.”