A Fearless Rebel

by McQueen, Hildie

  A hard hit to the back of his head dropped Keithen to the ground, his vision blurring. Gallant neighed and kicked in the air. Keithen pushed up from the ground to his knees and shook his head. He did his best to remain conscious. A hard kick to his side made him fall flat again.

  “Tie him up,” came a command.

  Arms yanked back, he groaned at the pulling of the stitched-up arm. They tied his wrists together and then yanked him to his feet.

  “Better keep up if ye do not wish to be dragged,” the mounted man said.

  He was not able to walk very long and ended up dragged twice before they gave up and threw him over the back of a horse.

  Keithen threw up, his stomach heaving over and over again.

  When he got loose, he would not hesitate to kill them.

  “Should we take him to the laird directly?” one of the men asked.

  “Why would we not?” another replied.

  There was a grunt. “If he killed our laird, we should punish him a bit first. Why let the prison guards have all the fun?”

  Despite finding himself beaten and bound, Keithen felt better about the situation at hearing them. Being taken to the prison guards meant he would be close to the man with the red mark.

  Unfortunately, a few moments later, he was yanked from the back of the horse. They untied his hands while standing in a circle around him.

  “If ye win, we will let ye go.” The man who spoke was not in the least bit convincing. “Go on, hit me.” He held his fists up.

  Keithen knew he had no chance of beating them. However, the opportunity to get a few hits in had promise.

  The first strike seemed to surprise the man as Keithen had regained some strength while riding. His fist slammed into the man’s nose, sending blood spurting down his face. The man yowled and the other two laughed loudly.

  “He got ye,” one said as he swung and hit Keithen in the stomach.

  When he bent over, another punch came to his side, followed by another. Although he’d managed a few strikes, he was no match for them.

  By the time they’d grown bored with beating him, Keithen was left sprawled on the forest floor, one eye swollen shut and unable to get up.

  Once again, he was tossed onto a horse just as he passed out.

  As soon as Keithen came to, he was aware of several broken ribs and fingers. His bound hands throbbed, and he couldn’t breathe past the blockage in his nose. Blood probably.

  He didn’t lift his head to alert whoever was around. He was in a room, bound to a chair.

  Not too far away, he heard voices of men speaking, but it was hard to hear what they said.

  Someone walked up and grabbed his hair, pulling his face up. Alastair Mackenzie’s face came into focus.

  “I see ye decided to come to finally.” The man sneered. “I apologize for the treatment upon yer capture. If it were up to me, ye would be already be dead.”

  Keithen coughed and winced at the pain radiating from his ribs. “Where is my wife?”

  The new laird chuckled without mirth. “Do ye really expect me to believe that is the reason ye were skulking on my lands?”

  “Is she here?” he managed before having to cough and spit out blood.

  The man huffed. “I ask the questions here. Did ye kill my father?”

  “Nay.”

  Alastair punched him in the stomach, and Keithen howled in pain. “Who did it then?”

  He knew it didn’t matter what he answered; the punishment would be the same. “I wish I knew so I could thank him.”

  “Ye will hang tomorrow.”

  Thankfully, the next hit sent him back to darkness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Mother!” Ava’s voice was hoarse from calling for her mother.

  It had been sheer madness to come there.

  Ava managed to make it to the keep before being caught by guards when she tried to enter through a side entrance.

  Both her brother and mother were unharmed. Neither seemed particularly happy to see her.

  “Why are ye truly here?” Alastair had asked repeatedly. “Did they send ye?”

  “I came of my own volition. Upon hearing of the attack, I had to know ye were both unharmed.”

  Alastair had been drinking, his red-rimmed eyes boring into hers. “Ye lie.”

  Footsteps sounded, followed by her mother finally appearing, looking to her as if she was bothered. “What is it, Ava? Why are ye here?”

  “Spying for them, of course,” Alastair said. “She claims to be concerned about us.”

  “I am not lying!” Ava had dashed to her mother’s side. “Now that I know ye fare well, I will return. I was worried…”

  “No.” Alastair motioned a guard forward. “Take my sister to her chamber. Bind her arms and stand at the door.”

  Hours later, as darkness fell, she managed to slip from the bed and to her feet. However, there was nothing in the room that could be used to cut her ties. Thankfully, the guard had not had anything to tie her with and had resorted to using strips of fabric he’d torn from her underdress.

  Her wrists burned from her struggles and she frantically searched the room for something to use. There was a fire in the hearth and she neared it. Then she lowered to sit on the floor and lifted her arms. Carefully and slowly, she held the bindings close to the fire.

  Ava hissed as the flames scorched her skin until, finally, the fabric gave way.

  She raced to the window to ascertain the possibility of escape. The chamber faced the front of the keep. The window was narrow, but she could slip out of it. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a drop to the ground below.

  Just then, guards arrived at the gates, and the group called up to the gate guards who then began the process of opening them.

  The small party entered the courtyard. It was then Ava noticed that a man was thrown over one of the horse’s backs. Whoever it was seemed to be unconscious.

  The arrivals would be the distraction she needed to get away.

  She went to the bed to pull the bedding off, but then the door opened, and the guard rushed in. “What are ye doing?”

  “Men arrive.” She pointed to the window.

  The guard gave her a narrowed look. “Get back on the bed.”

  Ava took a step to the bed. She was glad when the guard’s curiosity got the best of him, and he went to peer out the window. She dashed to the door and raced to the end of the corridor, opposite of the way out.

  There was no exit in the direction she was heading, so she knew the guard would go in the other direction, hoping to catch her.

  At hearing his footsteps racing away, she dashed back into the bedchamber, closing the door behind her. She locked it and then hurried to the window.

  This time, she’d have to jump without the aid of a sheet. She shimmied out feet first and then dangled from her fingertips.

  When she landed on her bottom, the fall cushioned by a plush bush, Ava could have cried with gladness.

  It would be a bit of a trek to get to the side entrance but, thankfully, everyone was distracted as the guards carried whoever they’d captured into the house.

  Ava leaned forward to ensure the path was clear and her breath caught.

  The horse the man had been brought on kicked its front hooves into the air, announcing its displeasure. The animal landed back on its legs and trotted toward her.

  It was Keithen’s warhorse, Gallant. Without thinking, Ava jumped onto the horse’s back and kicked the animal’s sides. “Go,” she whispered urgently into its ears, guiding the animal straight into the courtyard.

  Men scrambled out of her way as the huge beast threatened to trample them. One of the guardsmen gave her a puzzled look but then shook his head, not sure what to do.

  The horse galloped at top speed out the front gates.

  Ava was sure they’d be followed but, hopefully, Alastair would be too preoccupied with Keithen to care.

  “Go,” Ava said to the horse, digging her legs into the anim
al’s sides. “Go!”

  She had to save Keithen which meant riding to the closest Fraser allies.

  Clan Ross.

  *

  Heart hammering as Gallant’s huge hooves thundered across the ground, Ava could not fathom how it would be possible to save Keithen. If he wasn’t already dead, then there was a chance she could arrive and ask Laird Ross to come back with her to help.

  Although Laird Ross had always insisted they would be supportive, but not go to war, surely a show of force the size of Clan Ross would stop her brother from doing what he’d threatened.

  She knew her husband had killed the guardsmen who’d tortured and raped poor Catriona. Ava was well aware of how he fought and his abilities. Because of it, she knew he’d not killed her father. Not because he hadn’t wished to, but more because Laird Fraser would be the first accused of ordering it, being they were the clan who’d last battled against him.

  The full moon hid behind clouds, making the trek toward Ross lands perilous. Never had she been more grateful for a fearless horse. Gallant seemed unaffected by the distance he ran or the fact that it was almost impossible to see.

  Ava’s back ached and she leaned over the horse to stretch. Unsure how much longer she had to ride, she continued in the direction of Ross lands hoping to at least run into guards on patrol or see the keep soon.

  Her mind returned to the night before. How different things had been. She and Keithen had become closer. At night, they cradled against one another, the much-needed comfort she’d always craved coming from listening to his soft breathing at night and kisses every morning. Her husband was attentive when they were alone, always complimenting her and asking about any needs she had. It was strange that, in such a short time, she’d come to crave time alone with him.

  And now her marriage and her husband, were slipping away.

  Ava straightened, looking for any signs of buildings or people but saw nothing at that moment. Shadows confused her, but she had no doubt that she was heading in the right direction.

  The beast continued forth, its strong legs crossing over the terrain until, finally, in the distance, she saw torches.

  “We did it, Gallant!” Ava exclaimed, urging the horse toward the immense keep.

  Upon nearing the gates, shouts sounded as men asked Ava to identify herself.

  “I am Ava Fraser. I must speak to yer laird.”

  There was a bit of a hesitation, but then the gates opened, and she guided Gallant through. Once inside the courtyard, a guard neared. “I will see about yer horse.”

  Her legs were like water as she trekked up the steps to the front door. It was opened by a man who made her take a step backward.

  “What is going on?” The astoundingly handsome man with his hair askew and vivid hazel eyes studied her. “Why did ye come?”

  “I am Ava Fraser. My husband, Keithen Fraser, was captured by my brother. I am afraid they may hang him. I need help to save him.” She did her best not to cry, but tears slipped down her cheeks. “Please. I beg ye.”

  Just then, two others came down the stairs. She immediately recognized the laird and his wife, Elspeth.

  “Ye rode all this distance alone?” Lady Elspeth Ross studied her with admiration. “Impressive.” The woman took her arm. “Ye must sit and rest.”

  Malcolm Ross, a commanding man who reminded her of a marble statue, looked to the man she’d been talking to. “What is happening, Kieran?”

  Ava responded. “My husband, Keithen, is in trouble. He is at Mackenzie Keep. Please help me save him.”

  The brothers exchanged looks, communicating without words as she tried in vain to decipher the message.

  “Very well.” Kieran took a step toward her, his flat gaze meeting hers. “I will take men and go. But we may be too late. If yer brother seeks to hang yer husband, he may decide dawn is the perfect time.”

  “Or sunset,” Ava said. “He may want to send for witnesses. My brother will want people to see it happen.”

  Although Kieran Ross was astonishingly handsome, at the same time, he was the most intimidating man she’d ever met. The man nodded. “We will find out then.”

  Ava hurried to Malcolm. “Thank ye. I will be forever in yer debt.”

  Just then, a woman burst into the room. Dressed in men’s clothing, her hair pulled back, she was easy to identify. She had a remarkable resemblance to Keithen. Esme Ross’ face twisted with rage.

  “What did ye do?” she screamed, pointing her finger at Ava’s face. The woman moved closer. “I knew this would happen. Marriage to a Mackenzie would cause Keithen’s death.”

  Ava wasn’t sure how to respond. If Keithen had come after her, then she was to blame.

  “I came to get help,” Ava started, but Esme cut her off with a shove.

  “What ye need to do is go back to yer people. Stay there and away from my family forever,” Esme cried. “Go away and never return. If my brother dies, I will hunt ye down and kill ye myself.”

  The woman raced from the room toward the courtyard.

  “Ye should remain for the night. After the long ride, I do not think ye will be able to ride the long distance back,” Elspeth said in a quiet voice. “Or perhaps ye can follow in a wagon. The horse will need to be rested as well.”

  “I will go,” Ava said. “His horse, Gallant, cannot remain here.”

  Just then, a servant materialized with food and drink. Ava accepted the drink but could not fathom eating at that moment. Every moment they delayed could bring dire consequences.

  “I will take it with me,” she offered, and the food was quickly wrapped and packed into a sack.

  Elspeth hugged her. “I wish ye well.”

  Refusing to meet the woman’s gaze, knowing she’d lose control of her emotions, Ava rushed to catch up with the laird and his brother.

  “If ye fall behind, I will not wait,” Kieran warned as they walked out into the courtyard.

  Ava nodded. “Please do not.”

  A short time later, she was astounded when they rode through the gates. Somehow, several hundred warriors had amassed and were ready to head out within the hour.

  The well-armed army took her breath away and she understood why Clan Ross was feared. Every man was immobile, their expressions flat, not shifting other than when Kieran called for them to ride forward.

  At the command, as one, every single horse fell into a precise fast gallop.

  The thundering of hooves vibrated the ground as Ava followed in the rear with Gallant. Every sound filled her senses. The grunts of the horses, the steady beats of hooves on the ground and the whishing of the wind past her ears.

  At the front, Kieran Ross rode, his shoulders back, one with the horse. She looked to the men who flanked her. “If I fall behind, do not stop, continue on. I will catch up.”

  The men nodded without response.

  At a fast gallop, the pace was astounding. Ava knew she and Gallant would soon fall by the wayside. But she’d ride as far as possible with the Ross army.

  *

  It was just two or three hours later that the sun rose on the horizon and they neared the edge of Mackenzie lands. It would still be several hours before they arrived at the keep, and that was if they were not intercepted by warriors.

  Ava fell more and more behind. Despite his stamina, Gallant was tiring, and she finally brought him to stop. She didn’t want to injure Keithen’s horse.

  Finally, upon arriving at a stream, she dismounted and allowed the horse to drink. “Ye must rest,” she told the horse as she lowered to the water’s edge and drank from the cold water.

  While the horse meandered to graze, she sat at the foot of a tree, watching toward where the large Clan Ross contingent had ridden.

  In her heart, she knew he still lived, but whether or not he’d be alive when Clan Ross arrived was not something Ava took for granted.

  Looking up at the clouds, she prayed that they arrived in time.

  Esme’s words permeated her mind. Part of
what she’d said was true. As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she was not wanted at Fraser Keep. Everyone saw her as an intruder and part of the reason so many of their people had died.

  Before marrying Keithen, the plan she’d had in place had been to leave, to start a new life away from everyone she knew. Perhaps it would be best to do so at that moment. Whether Keithen lived or died was out of her hands, and if she didn’t know exactly what happened, her heart would hold to the hope that he lived.

  With her gone, he could go on with his life. Perhaps marry Catriona, whom he cared so much for.

  Ava looked to Gallant. The horse would adapt to being hers. Perhaps he was a bit large for a woman to have but, at the same time, he was strong and would take her far.

  Instead of heading to the keep, she’d go to the cottage where she’d stored items over time. It was possible to reach the small home without being seen.

  No longer in a hurry to go, she nestled against the tree to sleep before heading in the new direction.

  The sun was high by the time she and Gallant rode once again. Sadness settled in her chest like a boulder pressing against it, but Ava soldiered on, unwilling to look in the direction of the keep.

  Her husband was possibly dead by then. If he lived, he would probably be maimed. She’d seen how horribly beaten people were by the time they were put out of their misery and hung. A cry caught in her throat and she lost control, sobbing uncontrollably. Her entire body quaked with each breath as she mourned losing the one person who’d given her a sense of security.

  Keithen with his barely-there smiles and beautiful body, had, for a short time, made her feel wanted and given her a sense of belonging.

  Now because of her foolish actions, he was suffering or dead and there was nothing else she could do for him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The damp frigid dungeon walls permeated through his beaten body and it relieved some of the pain. Keithen wanted to move closer to the wall, but it was impossible to gather the strength.

  More surprising than the relief from the cold was that he still lived. After passing out the last time, he’d come to and found himself hanging by his arms in a room just outside the dungeon. Two men had taken turns beating him, lashing him, and finding creative ways to torture him until he could barely breathe. Just as he’d been about to lose consciousness, Keithen had been convinced he was about to die.