A Fearless Rebel (Clan Ross Book 5)

by Hildie McQueen

  He had to speak to his father and ensure someone was sent to find out where Ava was. Unable to stand on his leg, he could not hope to walk out of the room. “Guard!”

  No one entered and he huffed in annoyance. Hopefully, a maid would appear soon, and he could send for his father.

  All day, it had rained, and he wondered if Ava had found shelter from it. If she had remained at Mackenzie Keep, he wasn’t sure if he could accept it.

  On one hand, she’d saved his life by riding to the Ross Keep to get help. But on the other hand, why had she abandoned Gallant? The horse had returned unharmed and saddled.

  If she’d been accosted, surely they’d have kept the warhorse as it was an astonishingly beautiful horse.

  Keithen grunted as pain gripped him. Then again, Gallant was not tame enough to allow just anyone near him.

  Finally, the door opened and Broden entered. “Ye bellowed?” His friend lowered to a chair and proceeded to bite the side of his thumb nail.

  “I thought ye were out on patrol,” Keithen said. “Why did ye return already?”

  “No news. No one has seen or heard of a lass matching Ava’s description riding about.”

  Keithen gave him a droll look. “She would not be riding since the horse returned.”

  “How do ye know? What if she returned to Mackenzie Keep and retrieved a horse there? We do not know where Gallant was released from.”

  It was true. However, his gut told him something had happened to Ava.

  “If yer wife wished to return, she would have arrived by now.” Broden gave him a pointed look. “I think she is at Mackenzie Keep. It is impossible to breach Mackenzie Keep as the gates are closed and heavily guarded.”

  “What should I do?” Keithen asked, knowing Broden did not have a reply.

  His friend shook his head. “All ye can do is wait and recover. Right now, there isn’t much that can be done.”

  Just then, his father and mother entered. His mother carried a tray with a bowl of soup and bread. “Good evening, Son,” she greeted with a smile. “It is good to see ye sitting up.”

  She looked to Broden. “Help him to straighten, please, dear.”

  Doing his best to keep from grimacing at being pulled up and pillows pushed behind his back, Keithen then waited for his mother to place the tray over his lap.

  “Now,” she pronounced. “Yer father and I will keep ye company while ye eat.”

  Broden met his gaze for a moment. “I will see about last meal then.” He left the room and both his parents looked to him with expectation.

  “Eat,” his mother instructed.

  “Father, I must insist that scouts be sent to find out if Ava is safe. She saved my life and I am concerned that no one has seen her.”

  His father nodded. “In all probability, the lass is scared to return. After all, she is the cause of what happened to ye. Several of our men have been seriously hurt, one is near death from the clash with the Mackenzie guards. All because of her impulsive notion to go to our enemy’s keep.”

  “I like the lass, but I do not care for a wife who is disobedient,” his mother said with a frown.

  “Do ye not think, in a similar situation, Esme would have done the same?” he asked, looking first to his father and then to his mother. “I am willing to wager she would have been here without hesitation.”

  “Be that as it may,” his father said. “I am reluctant to send men into dangerous territory. I prefer to wait and see if news comes.”

  There was little he could do. It would be months before he could ride, much less fight. Keithen peered down at the soup. “I only ask that men be sent to surrounding villages on the road from Clan Ross to here to ask about her.”

  His father let out a sigh. “Very well. They will be dispatched tomorrow.”

  “Eat,” his mother urged. “Yer soup will get cold.”

  While he ate, his mother spoke of inconsequential things, mainly about staff in the keep and visitors who’d overstayed their welcome. Her anecdotes were just what Keithen needed at the moment. He and the laird had always enjoyed her descriptions and animated imitations of the villagers who’d been there for hearings.

  Once her parents left, a couple of men came to help him prepare for the night. By the time the healer’s awful tincture flowed down his throat, he was so tired that he would have easily fallen asleep without it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ava thanked the peddler who brought her to Mackenzie Keep. The man was setting up to sell his wares just outside the walls. Immediately, people emerged and began to bargain. She hurried through the gates and inside. The sooner she could retrieve some belongings and, hopefully, some coins from her mother, the sooner she’d leave forever.

  Her mother was nowhere to be found. In the great room, only a few servants milled about. As per usual, no one felt comfortable enough to remain in there.

  “Where are my brother and mother?” she asked a young woman, who started at seeing her. “Mistress Ava. I-in yer brother’s chambers.”

  She hurried up the steps, stopping only upon seeing two guardsmen standing outside the door. Both gave her a quick once over and said nothing.

  News that she was the one to inform the Ross about Keithen’s capture must not have reached them because they allowed her to pass without speaking.

  The stench in the room was horrible. It was almost as if someone had already died. But instead, she found Alastair seated on a chair, drinking.

  “Ah, there she is. My sister appears to ensure I die.” Alastair’s words slurred. “What do ye want?”

  The healer who had a cloth tied around his face to cover his nose and mouth hurried to her. “He will not allow me to clean his wound. It has festered.” Thankfully, the man handed her a cloth and she tied it around her face.

  “Where is Mother?”

  When Alastair ignored the question, the healer replied, “She’s gone to yer uncle’s keep in the north.”

  “She left ye?” Ava neared her brother. “Ye cannot be left alone right now.”

  When Alastair threw his head back and laughed, she quickly sprinkled herbs into his ale and motioned a servant closer.

  The green-faced young maid, who looked like she was about to get sick, managed to pour more ale into the cup and Ava noted the healer added more herbs when Alastair looked to Ava.

  “I would have left if I were her. When I die, all of this goes to no one.” He motioned with one hand.

  “Ye do not have to die. Allow me to help,” Ava told him in a flat tone. She went to the window to get fresh air. But it did little to help.

  “Guards!” she called out when Alastair slumped forward moments later.

  The men were reluctant to enter, but finally did. They lay her brother atop the bed and then hurried back out.

  Ava then looked to the maid. “Go instruct the cook to boil water. Bring back cold water for now.”

  Along with the healer, she was able to peel away the bloodied cloths from between her brother’s legs. The arrows had pierced his manhood and his lower abdomen. The lower injury had caused enough damage that he would never perform as a man again.

  “The rotting flesh will all have to be cut away. But even then, the festering has spread.”

  “Why did ye not give him herbs before this?” Ava demanded. “Ye could have had guards subdue him and...”

  “I tried, but the guards would not listen to me.”

  Ava understood. Alastair and her father ruled through fear. Punishments for disobedience had always been horrible.

  Ava went to the doorway.

  Two guards looked at her. “Ye should go, ensure the keep is secure. I am not sure my brother will live much longer. The clan will be vulnerable.”

  Ava’s gut tightened. In truth, her brother would, in all probability, succumb to his wounds. The injury was horribly infected. Nonetheless, she had to try to save him.

  It took them several hours to get the infected area cleansed, and most of the infected fles
h cut away. Ava stood by as the healer placed leeches into the wound. The small creatures would hopefully eat enough of the remaining infected area to save him.

  Alastair was unconscious, his pale face wet with perspiration. Ava pushed hair from his brow. Her heart was breaking for the man who’d either die or survive as a maimed man. All for what?

  “He has another injury to his side,” the healer pointed out.

  Ava studied her brother as they did what they could for the green, infected wound.

  By ruling over people without care for their welfare, their father had left her brother with nothing.

  In his quest for power, he’d acquired allies through force and threats of war. Understandably, none of them were truly loyal to them and had cut ties as soon as he’d died. When everyone broke ties at once, it proved impossible to bring them back.

  After all the damage her father had done, it was only fitting that, now, his family had to pay the price. However, seeing everything crumble and her brother on his deathbed remained one of the most horrible experiences of her life.

  Needing to get something to eat, Ava went downstairs. She looked around the empty, dim great room and immediately compared it to the Fraser’s. There, people mingled, came to have their grievances heard and then remained for last meal.

  The people of Clan Fraser actually cared for their laird and his family. Together, they shared life moments and celebrated.

  Here, no one would come to inquire about Alastair’s health. It was rare that anyone outside the family felt comfortable enough to remain for a meal. It was so sad that her parents had preferred this type of austere life.

  When she returned to her brother’s bedchamber, the linens on the bed had been changed and, already, the room smelled better.

  Her brother continued to sleep. Ava wasn’t sure what Alastair would do upon waking. She hoped he would be too ill to do anything harmful, but one never knew with her brash brother.

  “Go get something to eat and rest,” Ava told the healer. “I will remain here with him.”

  She went to the window and peered out at the night sky.

  How was her husband? If she were there, she’d be caring for him. But in all probability, they’d not allow her near him.

  Somehow, she would get word to him that she was well and would be going to live with her mother at her uncle’s keep.

  Even if Alastair recovered, he would not want her there. She turned to the bed and found that her brother was awake and watching her.

  “I do not wish to live.”

  His words were clear. Ava hurried to the bedside and lowered to sit.

  “Ye are Laird Mackenzie. Ye must live to ensure the people are taken care of. Who will be laird if ye die?”

  He turned away from her. “I do not care. Why should I?”

  “A laird puts his people first. That is what a true laird does. Ye have an opportunity to change, Brother. To do well.”

  “I can feel it.” Alastair closed his eyes. “Death is closing in on me. What will ye do?”

  Ava took his hand. “I will remain here with ye, if ye need me.”

  Turning to her, his half-closed eyes met hers. Alastair was so very pale, with dark circles under his eyes and his lips were a purplish-blue. “Remain with me.”

  Her brother closed his eyes and, moments later, his hand went limp. Ava’s eyes rounded.

  “Alastair?” She hovered over him. “Alastair!”

  The healer walked in the next morning and glanced to Ava. “Is he?”

  “Aye, he died last night. We must not tell anyone.”

  The healer nodded and went to the window. The room still reeked of infection, making it impossible to breath properly. Ava herself had slept next to the window.

  “If word gets out that yer brother is dead, I am positive we will be attacked immediately.”

  Ava shrugged. “I am not sure about it. No clan wishes to garner my uncle’s ire. Although he’s not as impulsive as my father, he is very powerful.”

  Moments later, there was a knock, and Ava slipped out, not allowing the young man to look in. “Ye must deliver a message to my uncle immediately. Alastair needs his assistance.”

  The man nodded. “Of course, Mistress Mackenzie.”

  She didn’t bother correcting him that her name was now Fraser.

  “Ride without stopping,” she instructed. “Take the swiftest horse.”

  When she walked back inside, the healer turned to her. “I am hopeful they will arrive within two days. We cannot possibly maintain the illusion that yer brother lives.”

  “We have no choice,” Ava said wearily. She’d not slept for two days other than dozing for a few moments on the chair. “We will take turns staying here. I will instruct the servants that my brother does not wish to be disturbed.”

  “Who do ye think will take over this clan?”

  Ava pictured her uncle’s family. “I do not know. He has three sons. So perhaps the second born, Cayden, since the oldest cousin, the first born, will take over for my uncle when he dies.”

  ***

  For the next two days, Ava and the healer managed to keep everyone at bay. Being her brother was not well-liked, no one had insisted to enter the room. The only person who seemed suspicious was the leader of the guard, who insisted her brother would want to hear his reports.

  Ava crossed her arms and stared up at the warrior whose broad shoulders prevented her from seeing around him. “My brother is very sick. I doubt he will remember anything ye tell him. The healer and I are doing our best to maintain Alastair’s dignity,” Ava whispered. “He was shot between the legs, as ye know.”

  The man grimaced and nodded. “Alastair does not wish anyone to see the extent of his injuries, which cannot be covered because...well, there are leeches being used.”

  This time the warrior paled. “Leeches?”

  Ava nodded. “Which is why I doubt he will be able to focus on a word ye say.” She reached for his forearm. “Please do not say a word. He will be most cross at me for saying what I have.”

  After a moment, the man sighed. “Very well. I am sure ye will send word when I can speak to him.”

  “Err.. aye, of course. I must inform ye that the Mackenzie of the north will be arriving in a day or two.”

  “Very well.” The man turned and walked away.

  Ava let out a long breath. Would her life ever be normal? Would she ever have a day without a life hanging in the balance or without fear of what will happen next?

  The next day slogged by until, finally, late in the day, a small army appeared on the horizon.

  Ava prayed they were Mackenzies.

  Another attack would too much to bear at the moment.

  ***

  Last meal was presided over by her uncle, the Mackenzie. He was a calculating man who, like her late father, measured his gain before making decisions. Unexpectedly, it was decided that another relative, Atholl Mackenzie, a cousin, would be given the lairdship of her clan. Ava suspected it was either because the man was spineless or because her uncle was indebted to him.

  To her, it didn’t matter. Other than needing a place to live, Ava wanted nothing to do with her family.

  Her mother, who’d returned with the party, studied her for a long moment. “Why are ye here? Yer husband, whether dead or alive, is gone.”

  It took every ounce of strength not to cry. Ava swallowed. “It was my fault that he was captured and hung.”

  Her uncle looked to them. “What was he accused of?”

  “He killed guards, picked them off one by one. Some sort of vendetta,” her mother answered, waving her hand as if it were nothing more than a nuisance. “I doubt it was him. It was probably one of our own guardsmen. They are not loyal. They should be hung, every one of them.”

  The guardsmen in the room looked to one another making Ava wonder why they’d remained to begin with. Her family mistreated everyone in their charge.

  Atholl, who looked to be in his forties, with silv
er temples and a sharp jawline, narrowed his eyes. “Guardsmen should be treated well. After all, they are who protects the family and clan. I will speak to the men and ensure that if there is a conflict within them, it will be rectified straight away. There must be harmony within this clan if we are to stand a chance to survive.”

  If Atholl Mackenzie was as wise as he sounded, perhaps the clan was headed for the better.

  Her mother straightened and placed a hand over her chest. “Of course. What I meant is that whoever is found guilty should hang...or be punished.”

  Her mother was flirting with the man. Ava coughed to hide her grimace. “Laird, may I ask if it is possible for me to remain here to live?”

  “I would like to request the same,” her mother interjected.

  Her uncle considered them for a moment. “Lady Fraser, of course. This is yer home.” His gaze scanned Ava’s face. “I will send a scout to find out if yer husband lives. If he does, ye will return to Fraser Keep. If he is dead, then I will allow ye to remain here. I do require a wife.”

  Her eyes rounded and her mouth fell open. Had the man just insinuated he would marry her? Ava’s throat dried up. Her mother’s face turned bright red and she glared at Ava.

  “Splendid idea,” her uncle said. “Perhaps as laird, ye can remain alive, unlike the first two.”

  The men laughed and Ava wanted to throw a tankard at their heads.

  “There is no need to send a scout.” Ava stood and crossed her arms. “I will go find out myself. If my husband is dead, I will return, otherwise, I will remain.” She had absolutely no desire to remain in the house with her family.

  Her brother was dead, buried without more than a few words by the vicar. Most of their allies were gone and now they planned to marry her off again.

  She stormed from the room. Behind her, she could hear her mother telling them how Ava had always been strong-willed and not very stable.