Page 16 of A Fearless Rebel

Something about the sound of her mother’s tone gave her pause. Had her mother been different when she arrived at Mackenzie Keep at the age of ten and six? Her mother had grown up in another Clan Mackenzie, from the northern region. Since both the clans were connected, as far as Ava knew, her mother had been immediately accepted. Had her mother always been so cold and distant?

Prompted by the notion, she asked the question that came to mind. “Mother, did ye change upon marrying Father?”

There was a faraway look in her mother’s gaze as she directed it toward the window. “Like most young lasses, I wished to live with my family longer. Once I caught yer father’s eye, there was nothing that could be done. I was obedient to my father and married.”

Her mother’s countenance hardened once again. “Ava, ye must be obedient to yer father and then to yer husband. Do yer best, appear to care about those who surround ye. Pleasure yer husband well, so that he will become protective of ye.”

Appear to care.

Is that what her mother thought she did? Because in Ava’s opinion she’d never once been kind to others, except maybe when her family visited.

Disheartened, she left her mother’s chamber and went to her own. There was little to do until last meal and, as usual, her heart felt as heavy as the air inside Mackenzie Keep.

When entering her chamber, she grabbed several items and articles of clothing that were serviceable.

If she was to escape, it had to be that night while her father and brother were gone. Otherwise, another opportunity would be scarce.

Chapter Five

Keithen woke with a start.

After a long day of patrolling, he’d been exhausted when he went to bed. He’d planned to sleep for a few hours before heading out to the Mackenzie lands. The sunlight through the window told him it was morning and he’d overslept.

Grunting, he turned onto his side and grimaced. The stab wound smarted. He’d have to clean it thoroughly to keep it from festering.

Since it made little sense to go anywhere at that point, he lay on his back and studied the ceiling.

The first image that formed in his mind was Ava Mackenzie’s face. The rebellious streak was something he could relate to. Obviously, she escaped for rides and tempted danger as a way of asserting herself. Keithen admired her for it. However, it went no further. She was a Mackenzie, which meant her father’s blood ran through her veins.

Admittedly, there had been a hint of vulnerability about her, and perhaps she could be kind. After all, if it were not for Ava, Catriona could have been killed.

At thinking of Catriona, his chest constricted. Would his poor friend ever recover? Probably not. There was hope that, with time, she would grow stronger and get past the horrible experience, at least a bit.

At the sound of knocks, he called out for whoever it was to enter. It was Broden. “I’ve not known ye to sleep in.”

Keithen sat up and pretended annoyance, although he was glad his friend had come and dragged him away from thoughts of Ava Makenzie. “Since when do ye visit bedchambers? Do ye wish to embroider next?”

“I prefer to weave,” Broden replied in a dry tone and went to peer out the window. “The contingent of Ross guards have arrived.”

“How many?’

“Fifty as agreed, no more, no less.”

It was admirable that the Ross kept his word. They’d been promised fifty men who would come and live there. Some would rotate back and forth to Ross lands, but most had volunteered to remain.

“Who leads them?”

“Ewan Ross,” Broden replied. “I do not care for him.”

Although Keithen recalled the amicable man, he wasn’t sure what about him would make him unlikeable. “What did he do?”

Broden’s face went hard. “He annoys me.”

A chuckle escaped from Keithen. He slid from the bed and dressed. “Is my father up?”

“Not as yet.”

Moments later, they exited out to the busy courtyard. Horses were being led away by stable lads, while more lads rushed forward to get other steeds. The warriors who arrived milled about, sacks of belongings at their feet as they studied the surroundings.