A Fearless Rebel

by McQueen, Hildie

  “Mayhap we can keep her healthy long enough to sell her,” the man with appalling teeth had muttered.

  They’d bound and gagged her and thrown her over a horse, and finally put her into a wooden crate. She’d struggled and not made it easy for them to stuff her into the tight space, but they’d overcome her easily.

  Once again, her stomach cramped, and she hoped not to have to relieve herself. Silently, she prayed to be let out of the crate.

  Moments later, the cramping became worse and she doubled over, moaning. Wave after wave of pain tightened her midsection unlike anything she’d felt before. It was too dark to see, but the smell was unmistakable.

  Blood.

  She wasn’t sure how long it continued until, finally, she fell into a fitful sleep.

  Light followed by fresh air made Ava wake.

  A man’s face came into focus.

  “She’s gotten worse. No one will give us any coin for her. She won’t finish the trip. She’ll be dead in a day or two.”

  Two other faces peered down at her. The men who’d taken her. One of them wrinkled his nose. “Why is she all bloody?”

  “Leave her. She’ll die soon,” the first man assured them. They replaced the top on the crate.

  Moments later, the crate was lifted and lowered to the ground. Then not so gently, it was shoved against something.

  The putrid smell of rotting fish made Ava nauseous and she heaved, praying not to get sick since the rag was still shoved into her mouth.

  Lifting to her knees, she pushed at the top of the crate with her head, and it gave way. The men had been so convinced of her imminent death that they’d not bothered to nail it shut.

  “Ye’re a bloody mess.” A craggy face appeared over her. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman who stood next to the crate. “Here.” The person held out a dirty hand. “Come on, I’ll help ye out.”

  Ava did her best to stand, but her legs wobbled. She fell against the side of the crate and it tipped over. She grimaced when her shoulder hit the ground but was so happy to be out of the crate, it didn’t matter if it hurt.

  “Ah, ye’re tied up,” the person said, yanking the cloth from her mouth. “Let’s see here.”

  She now guessed the person was a woman because she wore long, dirty, gray skirts. “I normally do not help strangers, but ye are left behind, so I am thinking no one’s coming for ye.”

  “Water?” Ava croaked.

  “None to be had,” the woman said, cackling and untying her hands. “Got a bit of ale.” She held up a bottle with a cracked top. “Only a sip.”

  Her arms refused to move, so she tipped her face up and the woman pressed the bottle to her lips. The ale was bitter, but she welcomed the wetness of it.

  “Thank ye,” Ava finally said. She remained sitting on the ground, her blood and urine-stained skirts collecting dirt.

  “Ye should go over and wash up.” The woman motioned to the water’s edge with her head. “Salt water will help with the healing”

  Ava wasn’t sure about the healing properties, but she did have to wash up. Although she would have preferred an alternative to salty water, it was better than nothing.

  “Where am I? What place is this?”

  “Shandwick,” the woman replied, walking away. “Ye be with care. Many men look for young lasses for the taverns or to sell to traders.” She pointed to a ship that had drifted away from the shore. “Ye were probably meant for that one.” The woman continued rambling as she walked away.

  Once Ava got to her feet, painful tingles traveled down her arms. But at least feeling was returning.

  On wobbly legs, she managed to make it to the water’s edge and walked into the water until it reached her knees.

  The water was frigid but, for some reason, it felt exhilarating. Being in the water, washing away days of filth meant she was free.

  Having to wash away all the blood, she continued forth until she was waist deep and then began splashing water to her arms and face. She ensured to wash between her legs and then rubbed the fabric of the skirts in an effort to get as much excrement from them as possible.

  Shivering, she hurried from the water. Soaked from the waist down meant she’d be very cold if her skirts did not dry by sundown.

  Like every other port village, it was untidy and probably dangerous for a woman alone. She blew out a breath as she tried to figure out what to do.

  Finally, she walked in the direction the old woman had gone. After a few minutes, the woman came into view as she tottered into a tiny, lopsided house. Ava hurried to the door and knocked.

  “Ah, it’s ye,” the woman said, not seeming surprised. “I suppose ye may as well come in. Tis not a good place for ye to be out and about.” The woman’s keen gaze took her in. “Have ye any coin?”

  The question surprised her. Ava did keep a small sack of coins in the pocket hidden in her skirts. But she wasn’t about to admit it to a stranger.

  “Nay. I was robbed of everything when I was attacked. My family will pay a ransom for me,” she added, not sure which family she referred to.

  One way or another, she had to get away from there. “Is there someone who could take me home?”

  The woman shrugged and lowered to a stool. “I do not have a horse. Thomas may take ye, but I’ve not seen him in days.”

  “I promise to send ye payment and…” Ava looked around the shabby surroundings. “Fabric for a new dress if ye help me.”

  The woman brightened. “I do need a new dress.” She got to her feet with surprising spryness. “Come along then.”

  They traversed one of the most interesting and, at the same time, terrifying places Ava had ever been. Men called out as they walked by asking the old woman how much for Ava. She hunched her shoulders, allowing her hair to fall and hide her face, but it did not stop her from attracting attention.

  Although not as painful, the cramping in her abdomen continued. It was obvious that she was suffering from more than her monthly courses. At the moment, however, she refused to think about what was actually occurring.

  The woman stopped at a shack and rapped on the door. “Thomas.”

  An instant later, the door opened, and a man emerged. With hair past his wide shoulders and a full beard, it was impossible to describe his features. He grunted at the old woman. “What do ye want today, Hilda?”

  “This woman claims her family will pay a ransom for her. I want a portion of what they pay.”

  His icy gaze moved to Ava. Something flickered a sort of softening, but it was gone when he shook his head. “No, I do not trust ye.”

  Not sure if he spoke to her or the woman, Hilda, Ava waited.

  “There won’t be another ship for days. Ye have time.”

  He looked to Ava again. “Where are ye from?”

  She considered the closest clan but discarded returning to Clan Ross. “Clan Fraser near Munlochy.”

  “Ye can get there sooner if ye take a birlinn and cross by water,” the old woman suggested, obviously eager for the fabric Ava had promised.

  “I will ensure ye are paid for it.” Ava considered the amount she had with her, along with what she kept in the bedchamber at Fraser Keep. It would more than pay for the man’s help.

  She clutched at her stomach when pain struck again. “I need to sit.” Stumbling to a stool outside the man’s door, she lowered to it and wrapped her arms around her lower midriff.

  “She’s lost a bairn. There’s nothing much to worry about other than the woman will be in pain for a few days.”

  At the woman’s words, Ava squeezed her eyes shut and blew out a breath. She’d not been aware of being with child until the last night she was alone in the forest when the first pangs had begun. It had been over two months since her last courses. The hard riding had been what killed her unborn child.

  So much had occurred because she’d been rebellious and disobeyed Keithen. Neither her brother nor mother had been harmed in the battle. Additionally, neither had care
d one bit that she’d come to ensure that they were well.

  Instead, Alastair had accused her of being part of the reason for the attack, even insinuating she helped plan it.

  Although her mother had not been overly welcoming, she’d acted as if it were a bother that Ava was there.

  Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. Why did she keep trying to gain her family’s care? They would never change.

  “When can we leave?” Opening her eyes, she looked up into the man’s grayish ones.

  After looking up to the sky, he then turned away from the docks. “In the morning. Ye can stay here if ye wish.” He motioned to the shack. “Up to ye.”

  Ava looked to the older woman, but she shook her head. “I do not have room for ye.”

  For the rest of the evening, Ava sat on the stool or paced outside Thomas’ shack. The cooling salty air made her shiver since her clothes remained wet. Then to make matters worse, the salt on her skin was itchy. Never had she been so miserable. Ava returned to the stool, crossing her arms in an effort to maintain warmth. Only when it was absolutely inevitable would she go into the man’s shack.

  Moments later, Thomas appeared from wherever he’d gone. He carried a bucket, which he placed next to her.

  The smell of food made her mouth water, but she didn’t dare touch the bucket. He ducked into the shack and brought out another stool and lowered to sit on it. Then digging into the bucket, he brought out a loaf of bread that he tore in two, followed by a bowl that spilled over with a sort of stew. “They only had one bowl left, so we’ll have to share,” he explained.

  Ava didn’t care. She dipped a piece of bread into the stew and carefully scooped up some of the contents.

  They ate in silence. The man made no attempt at conversation. Ava was just as comfortable without it.

  When they finished, he offered her a drink from a wineskin, and she took it. After she took a drink, she shoved her hand into her skirts and pulled out a silver coin and held it out. “Thank ye.”

  With a nod, he took the coin. The sum would have more than paid for the food. Ava hoped that it gave him more confidence in agreeing to take her back.

  He stood. “I am going to return this. Ye can come along if ye wish or ye can go inside. There is fresh water for ye to wash up with.”

  Rinsing away the salty water sounded good, but Ava wasn’t sure she could walk as far as she’d seen him go. “I am afraid that I cannot go very far. I am still in pain.”

  He nodded and walked away.

  Inside the shack, it was cleaner than the old woman’s. The few belongings the man had were placed on a shelf next to a small cot. The only other furnishings were a table and a trunk. Both were well made and clean.

  She noted he kept two buckets of water and a small tub that could be used for washing clothes or bathing. It was interesting that someone who lived on the docks where danger lurked and everyone was out to make coins would live so sensibly.

  When he returned and ducked through the doorway, the already too small space shrank.

  “I brought more fresh water for ye and this,” he said as he held out a faded frock. “I will be outside.”

  Ava wasn’t sure what to think. How could a virtual stranger be so kind? She was sure he was not what he seemed. Or perhaps he was what he seemed: a miscreant, someone who took women and sold them off to the highest bidder.

  How far could she get if she slipped away and headed south? There was a loch between Ross and Fraser lands that had to be traveled over or around.

  With no horse and a lack of clear direction, returning home seemed impossible.

  Finally, she gave in and quickly undressed to her chemise. With quick movements, she washed her body, hating that the water turned bloody from the dried blood between her legs. She pulled the faded frock on over her head and then proceeded to tear her chemise into strips. From the strips, she fashioned a strap around her waist, she then took two strips and tied them to the front, between her legs and then to the back. She fashioned a wrapped bundle that would hopefully absorb any further bleeding to the strap between her legs. Once that was accomplished, she felt relieved to not be bleeding on her clothing.

  She walked out and tossed the dirty water. Thomas sat on a stool with a piece of wood in one hand a knife in the other. He slid the blade deftly through the wood. “Sleep well, lady. We will head out early.”

  Ava nodded. “Where should I sleep?”

  He looked at her. “The cot. I will sleep on the floor.”

  Clean and with food in her stomach, Ava lay on the cot, grateful for not being still locked in a crate.

  If only she’d not gone to see her family, things would be so different in that moment. But she’d been so stubborn and had a habit of going into things without thinking it through.

  She let out a sigh and prayed that Keithen was alive and well. Then, when the door opened, she prayed that the man, Thomas, would not harm her, but instead help her get home.

  To her surprise, he didn’t even look in her direction. He instantly doused the lantern on the small table and then spread a blanket he pulled from the trunk onto the floor.

  Within moments, his soft snores sounded, and Ava, too, fell into a slumber.

  “We will leave shortly. I will go pull my birlinn. Ye can come after breaking yer fast.”

  Ava sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her fast? She hurried to find a bucket to relieve herself and then once that was done, rinsed her face and hands.

  On the table was a bowl with what looked to be mutton and bread. Ava ate the portion he’d left for her and then dutifully rinsed out the bowl.

  She would make sure the man was paid well for everything he’d done for her. Hopefully, he did not have sinister plans in mind and would indeed ensure she arrived back at Clan Fraser in less than three days.

  Moments later, she and two men who’d been recruited to help with the rowing were on a birlinn crossing a span of water. It was the first time she’d been on a vessel like the one Thomas owned. He seemed at ease on the water, maneuvering it to the opposite shore by allowing the sea to set the speed.

  When they came to the opposite shore, several men hurried out the help pull the birlinn to the beach. They all spoke in fast tones, seeming to be catching up on latest events.

  The talking and laughter brought to mind the men at Fraser Keep, who often remained after practice to stand around and talk of home and families. For the first time, she’d finally felt at home, somewhat belonging. However, Esme had reminded her she was truly not wanted or needed there.

  If she did return to Fraser Keep, perhaps it would be best to ask Keithen to allow her to go into a nunnery. The family would no doubt urge him to do so. After everything that happened, how could they not wish her gone?

  The next day, she spotted a village in the distance. Ava recognized it. The coin purse was not heavy, but she had more than enough to pay the man who’d helped her. He’d been respectful and silent most of the trip. Although curious about him, Ava didn’t pry and ask any questions. Whatever his reason was for living the way he did was his own.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Ava told him as he guided the wagon he’d borrowed from acquaintances once they’d landed on the opposite shore. “Just take me to that village.”

  Without even a shrug, he guided the horses in the new direction. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she untied her coin bag.

  Drizzle began to fall, and Ava hunched against it. She’d no cloak, no shoes and only the worn frock the man had found for her. A man who stood under an overhang by the tart shop watched them with curiosity, but then disappeared through a door.

  She looked about hoping to see a familiar face, but the only other person was a young man pulling two goats.

  “Here.” Ava held out her coin bag. “I hope it is enough for yer troubles. Thank ye so very much.”

  The man took the coin bag, plucked out three coins and handed it back to her. “Get yerself a cloak and shoes.”
/>   Moments later, she entered the tart shop and the woman behind the counter gasped. “Lord above, what happened to ye?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Catriona McKay held her face up to the cloudy sky and closed her eyes. After being indoors for over a year, she now relished time outdoors. Although she’d yet to go further than the keep grounds, it was progress from the confines of the house.

  Nightmares continued to bring back images of the days she’d been brutally attacked at the hands of Mackenzie guardsmen. At least they didn’t come nightly any longer. However, they happened often enough that she could not stop the terror that seized her at being approached by men.

  It was only recently that she could spend time in the great room. But she always sat at a table in the corner, with only Flora, her companion, and whatever other women decided to join them.

  “There ye are,” Esme walked toward her. “I wondered where ye had gone off to.”

  Her childhood friend’s assessing look came next. “Ye look good. Ye have gained back some weight.”

  Catriona couldn’t help but smile at Esme’s motherly actions when she touched her face and met her gaze. “How do ye feel today?”

  “I am not sick,” Catriona said. “I am well and have taken over working in the gardens. Today with the drizzle, the plants will be happy.”

  “Aye,” Esme let out a breath. “It is quite a dreary day.”

  “When do ye go back?” Catriona reached for Esme’s hand. “I hate it when ye leave.”

  “Not for a while. I will not leave until I am absolutely convinced Keithen will be well.” Her friend looked up at the second story windows. “He is not well at all right now.”

  Catriona had loved Keithen Fraser most of her life and the thought of any future without him made her ache physically.

  “I am sure he will recover. He is strong,” she said, trying to convince herself as well as Esme. “Ye will see.”

  “Have ye gone to see him?”

  Ever since Keithen married Ava Mackenzie, Catriona had done her best to keep her distance. As much as she treasured her friendships with Esme and her brother, he was not to be hers, ever. And although she accepted it, it still hurt.