A FEARLESS REBEL
Chapter One
Storm clouds gathered overhead, darkening the surroundings in the thickly wooded forest. The wind blew through the branches, making the leaves flutter sideways as birds called out to others, warning of the storm headed their way.
Keithen Fraser’s focus was entirely on the man he was facing. Each of his opponent’s movements caused him to make calculations of what his own would be. As furious as he was, it was important not to lose sight of his ultimate goal. To kill each of the men he’d been informed who were responsible for the vicious attack on his childhood friend, Catriona.
The slash of the man’s dagger came too close for comfort, just a hairsbreadth away from his throat. Keithen pushed the man back, glad to see him stumble and sway. His opponent bled profusely from his nose and cuts across the upper chest and arm.
The man grinned, pacing side to side, biding his time. “We passed her around, each of us taking turns with the wench. I quite enjoyed watching the men use her, over and over again. When it was my turn, she screamed because I took her from behind. I didn’t want to be like the others ye see,” he recounted, his eyes gleaming. He spit blood on the ground. “She was given to us. We only did what came freely.”
Fury sent blood pumping against Keithen’s eardrums and he lunged forward, swinging his right hand in an attempt to plunge his dagger into the bastard’s heart. But the man was prepared for it and manage to block the strike. Still, he was able to cut the bastard’s arm and then he was forced to leap backward when the man swung with his own weapon.
The man grimaced but managed to smirk. “I left my mark on her. Next time ye bed her, ye cannot miss my bite mark on her left breast. She was quite a morsel.”
Keithen roared with anger. “Ye will pay for it with yer life.”
When the man rushed toward him, Keithen defended against the fall of the man’s blade with his own. Then with his left hand, he punched the man in the gut. Somehow, his opponent managed to stab him as he bent forward. The stab on Keithen’s side wasn’t deep. He’d been able to move just in time. But it smarted and made him even more furious.
It began to rain, the drops drumming on the tree leaves in a noisy concerto that, under most circumstances, would be nice to hear. Instead, it meant he would be able to slip away without being seen. First, he had to avenge Catriona’s lost honor.
“I will kill ye,” Keithen gritted each word out and rushed the man who’d continued bleeding, the bloodstains growing on his tunic.
They rolled over each other on the muddy forest ground. The only witnesses to the struggle were their steeds. Keithen’s warhorse reared up when they came near, the animal not liking the situation.
The man swung and hit Keithen square in the jaw, sending him reeling backward until his head collided with a tree. Keithen had to shake his head to gather himself.
“Tis too bad ye did not kill me, Fraser, because my laird will ensure every single one of ye dogs are dead by sunset tomorrow.” The man turned and ran to his horse.
Keithen was aware that if he allowed the guard to get to the Mackenzie, what the man spouted was true. So Keithen gave chase. The Mackenzie would declare war on his clan.
Fueled by desperation, Keithen caught up with the man just as he reached the mount and sunk his blade into the man’s side.
“Argh!” the man cried out and bent forward grabbing his side. Keithen sliced his blade across the man’s neck. His opponent grabbed at the injury with both hands, eyes going wide and mouth falling open. Blood seeped from in between his fingers as he finally fell forward to the ground.
Keithen walked to the man’s horse and untied it. The animal’s return without its rider would alert them to the bastard’s death and deliver a message. They’d know another of their guardsmen had been killed. The volatile Mackenzie would go crazy with fury. As Clan Mackenzie had so many enemies, they’d not be able to place blame on any clan for certain.
Even though it was gratifying to have killed another one of those responsible for attacking a woman from his clan, a part of him felt empty. Nothing he did would bring back the Catriona he’d known most of his life.
He’d gotten names from the man he’d just killed. Obviously, the guard had thought he’d kill Keithen, so he’d bragged about which of his friends had participated in the attack.
Three more. At least by his calculations, that’s how many were left. Three had died under his hand, now three more would pay for what they’d done.
Gallant, his warhorse, flew across the terrain. There was little the great horse seemed to enjoy more than being allowed free rein to gallop. Putting as much distance as he could between Mackenzie lands and his, Keithen rode to a small farm on Fraser lands.
With each fall of his horse’s hooves across the ground, his mind went over what had happened lately between the clans. His family was in peril until they agreed to terms the Mackenzie had set. But with the newly formed alliance between his clan and Clan Ross, they were not as vulnerable as before.
Months earlier, along with his father, they’d met the Mackenzie to discuss a truce. The man had suggested marriage between Keithen and his daughter, Ava. Instantly, Keithen had rebuffed the idea. The last thing he wished for was to become forever linked to the man who’d attacked his clan.
Not only had the man been responsible for the deaths of many of his clanspeople, but he’d terrorized surrounding villages, causing people to flee in fear. Too many had lost everything because of the Mackenzie’s avarice.
The last thing Clan Fraser wanted was a family alliance with a man no one respected. The Mackenzie grew in power using his large army without a care to the damage they left in their wake.
Keithen would do whatever he could to never be tied to the Mackenzie. Not only because of his lack of care, but mainly because of him throwing a defenseless Catriona to his guards to do with as they wished.
A small keep came into view. Compared to his father’s keep, this one had only one small house, a large stable, and two guards.
A large garden that called to a traveler to stop by and admire it, seemed to invite one to rest.
In a small corral were several goats and pigs. The small adjoining field was neatly plowed. Different vegetable plants formed perfect lines on the slight hill.
Keithen admired the planning of the field from which the cook could harvest different items for daily meals.
A dog and its two pups raced to his horse, the tiny beasts not seeming to care that his horse could easily trample them.
When Keithen dismounted, one of the pups bit his boot. The tiny beast growled and shook its head side-to-side.
The mother dog looked on, her eyes moving up to him as if apologizing for her unruly pup. If he’d not been in pain from the cuts, he would have taken time to greet the dogs, but upon straightening, he felt a bit lightheaded.
“What have ye gotten yerself into, Boy?” his aunt, Matilde, called from the doorway. “Ye’re a bloody mess again.”
A shrill whistle sounded, and the dogs turned and ran to his uncle, Hamish, who gave Keithen a once over and shook his head. “Ye’re going to end up dead one of these days.” The older man grabbed Gallant’s reins and led the huge beast away.
Knowing he’d be treated to fresh oats and perhaps some carrots, the horse went with him as meek as a mouse.
An animal lover, his uncle enjoyed any time spent with a steed like Gallant.
Inside the house, Keithen was greeted by the aroma of food and bread. He dared not ask to be fed, as his aunt was already cross with him for, once again, showing up beaten, bloody, and without an explanation.
“Take yer tunic off and come sit over here,” M
atilde instructed while motioning for a maid to pour water into a bowl. “Just know if yer father or mother ask us about this, we will not lie for ye.”
Keithen nodded and winced when she took a wet cloth and began to clean out his wound. “That hurts.”
“It should,” she replied in a flat tone. “I’m going to have to sew it up.”
“The fields look good,” Keithen told her. “The garden is beautiful.”
“Yer uncle has taken over gardening. We’ve got a helper now, too. Young lad from the village. He’s building a small house for himself and his wife over on the creek’s side.”
Sometimes, Keithen envied the simple life of the villagers. They lived pretty much as they pleased. Unless, of course, they were attacked by warring lairds.
Matilde was his father’s sister, a simple woman who’d married the third born son. Although they were not well off, they lived a good life on land that had been granted to them by his grandfather.
Often as young children, Keithen and his sister, Esme, had spent long days there at the small keep. His aunt and uncle, who’d had a son the same age as Esme, had enjoyed having more children there.
“Where is Jamie?” Keithen asked, referring to his cousin.
“Gone to work for yer uncle across the river. Ye know he never wished to remain here. I am not sure exactly what he does, but he lives at the keep. He came here not too long ago with the guard force,” she said, referring to a few months earlier when Clan Mackenzie had attacked Keithen’s home. His uncle, John Fraser, laird to a larger clan than his, had sent several hundred warriors to defend them.
“Aye, I remember seeing Jamie then. We didn’t have time to speak.”
“Perhaps ye should consider going to visit yer uncle for a spell as well. Keep yerself out of trouble. It will kill yer mother if I tell her.”
Keithen knew his aunt wouldn’t tell her. At least he hoped so. “I am doing what I do to protect someone’s honor.”
“Does the person need that sort of protection?” his aunt asked. “Sometimes, what the person who is dishonored needs is time to heal and to forget. Seeing more hurt and sorrow will not help them.”
***
Last meal was being served when Keithen finally arrived at his home. He’d had to ride Gallant hard to make it back at a time that would not cause too many questions.
He did his best not to stumble to the nearest table, where he settled and instantly began to eat. His aunt had refused to give him more than a drink of ale as punishment for not telling her what he’d been up to. The woman loved him and always saw to his injuries, so he understood her frustration with him.
When someone poked him in the shoulder, Keithen turned to find Broden. Broden was a guard and his close friend. The large man gave him a bland look. “Yer father wishes to speak to ye.”
Keithen tore off a piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth and then stood to follow Broden from the room. “Did Father eat already?”
“Nay. He’s been in here with the council.”
That statement did not bode well. Something was amiss. Hunger and discomfort were immediately forgotten as he entered his father’s study.
At once, his father’s keen eyes traveled over his face. Although he’d done his best to keep from being struck in the face, the man he’d attacked had hit him in the jaw and temple a couple of times.
“It is kind of ye to join us.”
Keithen sat at the table. Broden slid a glass of whisky in front of him, and he looked up to see apprehension in friend’s gaze.
One of the council members, a lifelong friend to his father, cleared his throat. “We received a missive from the Mackenzie requesting a date be set for the wedding between ye and his daughter. We must reply this time.”
Before Keithen could speak, his father leaned forward. “I am sorry, Son. There is nothing we can do to prolong it.”
“We are to give in?” Keithen asked. “Are we to allow this man who is responsible for the deaths of many of our people and us to be joined permanently? I will not do it.”
His father got to his feet and Keithen did as well. He was prepared to argue the point until an alternative was figured out.
When their gazes clashed, a cold sweat came over him. Keithen knew that look on his father’s face. His father’s eyes narrowed. “As yer laird, who ye have vowed fealty and obedience to, I order ye to do as I ask. Ye will marry Ava Mackenzie for the good of our clan.”
It was a low blow. His father knew Keithen would never stand against him and disobey a direct order. Like every other member of the guard and family, on bended knee, he’d given his sworn oath to give his life for not only the laird, but also for the good of the clan.
Keithen folded his fingers into a fist and placed his right arm over his chest. “Yes, Laird.” Unable to utter the word “Father”, he’d preferred to use the title. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, that a father would order his own son to marry the daughter of the man responsible for so many deaths of their people.
And yet, upon meeting his father’s gaze, he understood the decision had not been made lightly.
“Sit down. We must discuss the wording of the message we will send back. If this marriage is to take place, the Mackenzie must agree to the lass coming to live here. We will travel there for the marriage ceremony along with five hundred guardsmen, which will include the contingent from Clan Ross and my brother, Clan Fraser.”
Keithen nodded in agreement. Perhaps this would be a way to enact his revenge. His presence on Mackenzie lands could not be questioned as much if he were married to the laird’s daughter.
“For a dowry, I will ask for the lands at the forest that border our own,” Keithen said.
There was pride in his father’s expression at the comment. “That is very good thinking. Why had it not occurred to us?”
By the time the message was written, it was wordy. The messenger was sent away with instructions to not stop until arriving at Mackenzie Keep.
Although not happy to be marrying, Keithen wondered if the Mackenzie would call off the wedding at his request of land. He hoped it would be something the man would not agree to and therefore make it easier to turn down the marriage offer.
As Keithen walked down a corridor, he slowed outside a door that was partly open. Inside, he heard his mother speaking.
She looked up at seeing him and lifted her finger to her mouth, signaling for him to be quiet.
“I do not wish to leave this room,” Catriona’s voice sounded vacant, without any emotion.
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.”
A Fearless Rebel (Clan Ross Book 5) Page 1