Page 6 of A Fearless Rebel

“Because I like it.” She motioned to the surroundings. “It’s peaceful and beautiful. There is rarely anyone here as they’d have to cross a long distance through our lands to reach this point.”

“Whoever killed Graham made it this far,” Alastair pointed out.

Ava lifted a brow. “Then perhaps the killer is one of our own.”

For a brief moment, his eyes lowered to the short sword at her waist. “I suppose ye could be right.”

When her brother turned away, Ava lifted her foot. Beneath her boot was a dagger that had been partially buried in the soft mud of the creek bank. She recognized the insignia.

A stag, with the words, “Je Suis Prest”.

The Fraser crest.

Quickly, she stuck it into a hidden pocket in her serviceable skirts and hurried to mount her horse. Was it possible that it was indeed a Fraser who was killing their guardsmen?

Mind awhirl, she rode back to the keep. There had to be a way to speak to a Fraser and warn them that if whoever it was continued to do this, her father would not touch his heart in retaliation.

He’d send the entire warrior force to decimate the Fraser Clan, without regard for what the aftereffects would be. It would mean years of war against the larger Fraser Clans and anyone affiliated with them.

Ava felt physically ill. She grew increasingly tired of the constant chaos that was her life. If only she would have been married off to a man who was strong enough to take her away from her father’s lands.

Instead, her late husband had been weak and too eager to please the Mackenzie. He’d forsaken his own lands and people to move to Mackenzie Keep. The decision had ultimately caused his demise.

When a pair of deer appeared just in front of her, Ava froze, watching them. After seeing her, the duo disappeared into the woods.

Ava watched as they vanished, envious of their freedom.

“There ye are.” Her mother stood just inside the great room when Ava returned home. Her face was a study of consternation. “What have ye done now? Yer father is most upset by yer actions.”

Ava spoke in a sing-song voice as if reciting a beautiful poem. “I forgot about our visitors and was not there to help entertain them. He’s already threatened me with the worst punishment, to send me to a nunnery to live my days, in prayer, in fasting, days and nights upon my knees.”

Her mother frowned. “Why do ye say it like so?”

“Perhaps because life in a church sounds appealing.”

Lady Mackenzie didn’t reply. Her mother would never understand. As hard of heart as her father and brother, her mother rarely showed caring.

Ava often wondered why she didn’t have the same disposition as they did. It certainly would help deal with the many unfair things her father had done through the years.

“Come along, dear. We must discuss yer trousseau.”

“For what, Mother?”

“As ye well know and insist on ignoring, ye will be married as soon as yer mourning is over.”

Ava looked down at her dark clothes. Since her husband’s death, she’d grown fond of wearing the nondescript colors. Wearing clothing that fit loosely and unflattering had allowed her more freedom to move about, practice archery and ride.

“What about a pale blue?” her mother was asking. Ava wasn’t sure what she was referring to.

Ava attempted a calm smile. “I do not plan to get married, Mother. Like my late husband, this poor man will end up dead as soon as he disagrees with Father about anything.”

Her mother straightened and pinned her with an annoyed look. “Do not add kindling to the fire. Ye should be the first to stand up and deny any rumor that, in any way, yer father had anything to do with Gilbert’s death.”

“Gillian,” Ava corrected.

“Yes, right.” Her mother let out a sigh. “I could never remember his name. It must have been a sign. I will do my best to memorize this one’s name. Keithen, isn’t it?”

At the name, a current traveled down her spine, and she remembered the handsome young man. “I am not marrying. I do not wish to be a widow twice.”