Chapter Ten

Freya could barely function. Her feet, back, and arms were throbbing from constant work. Everyone in the household pulled their weight, sharing the tasks of cooking, serving, cleaning, and seeing after the injured. Lady Ross had disappeared into her chambers refusing to come out.

She'd been moved into the house at Ainslie's insistence as her cottage was required for one of the warrior's family.

Trudging up to her small bedchamber on the second floor, she hoped to lay down for a few hours before getting up to relieve someone else. Being up since dawn, Freya wondered how late it was. If she were to guess, it wouldn't be long before the sun rose.

When Freya woke, she felt rested and immediately bolted upright. Guilt assailed at the thought that she'd slept much too long.

To her astonishment, someone had refilled the large pitcher and basin in the room. As kind as the act was it felt much too indulgent. There were too many tasks on the shoulders of the household staff that they would take time to see after her needs.

Not wishing to linger overmuch, Freya removed her clothes and began washing away the dirt and sweat from the past couple of days. The water, although chilled, was refreshing. By the time she stood completely naked in front of the fireplace, Freya felt like a new person.

After a quick rap, the door began to open. Freya dashed sideways, grabbing a drying cloth to cover her nakedness. The fabric was not large enough to cover her completely, but she managed. Holding the cloth in place, she stared at Gavin, who hesitated at the doorway, then quickly closed the door behind.

"I should have waited for ye to reply." His green gaze roamed over her bare legs past the covering to meet her eyes. There wasn't any warmth in his expression, but more of a detached coolness when he looked at her.

"Did something happen?" Freya asked, not daring to move.

He studied her for just a bit longer. "Much is happening, as ye well know."

If he expected her to say something, it was lost on her.

"I am aware. I am helping where I can. As soon as I dress, I will go to the kitchens… or the sick room."

Once again his frigid gaze locked with hers. "During my patrol, I came upon two men. They are searching for someone. A woman with black hair and dark eyes. They are from the Isle of Eigg. They said she is called Freya Craig."

Her stomach dipped and throat closed, making it impossible to swallow. Her throat went dry, and she gasped for air barely able to get a breath. Her eyes watered and she fought not to cry.

Gavin didn't move. He watched her dispassionately.

"I dinnae know why anyone would come…" Freya began. The lie sounded weak even to her own ears.

"Dinnae lie to me," Gavin interrupted. "They searched for ye. Called ye by name."

At her attempt to lie, the dispassion was replaced with fury. His lips twisted. "It seems yer betrothed is offering a reward for yer return."

She opened her mouth to say something, but Gavin interrupted. "As soon as it is safe, ye should go. It matters not if ye return to yer betrothed, it is nae my right to demand that of ye. But ye cannae remain here. If he is able to offer a reward for yer return, that means men will be coming to seek ye and it means danger for my family."

It was as if a vice gripped her so tight she could barely stay upright. Her legs threatened to give out, and her lungs refused to expand and retract.

"I must explain. There is so much ye are nae aware of." Her voice came out like a rasp.

Tasgall would force her into a marriage, he'd ensure her uncle would not be informed until it was too late. Then in all probability Freya would not live long. Once she was his wife the house, lands and family fortune would belong to Tasgall.

In a haze, Freya's eyes clouded, and she couldn't see past the tears. Terror gripped her at the realization that all was lost.

Freya's legs won the tug of war and she collapsed onto the floor, the cloth still gripped in her hands leaving her naked and vulnerable.

"Dinnae send me away. I beg of ye. I will leave. I just need time." Freya's soft sobs accentuated each word as she uttered them.

The cold floor seeped through her body, but she couldn't move. All she wished for at the moment was for Gavin to allow her the opportunity to explain. Even if he did, it was doubtful that he'd believe anything she uttered.

When he lifted her from the floor and carried her to the bed, hope sprung only to be dashed when he immediately retreated.

She looked up at him. "I should have told ye. It is that I am so scared."

Jaw clenched, it was as if he held back anger, or perhaps what she saw was a flicker of hurt. It was the worst possible timing for those men to appear. When his clan fought for their lives.

That he had little sympathy for her was expected. Yet she had to try. What she felt for Gavin was stronger than anything she'd ever experienced, and she believed he felt the same.

His eyes moved past her. "We will nae turn ye over to those men. But ye cannae remain here. Once it is safe…"

"I will leave," Freya interrupted him, internally pleading for him to meet her eyes and see the truth. To see that she loved him. "My betrothed is responsible for…"

"Stop!" Gavin shouted. "I dinnae want to hear it now. Whatever happened to ye before coming here, ye should have told me. I asked ye time and again."

With that he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. The slamming of the heavy door sent tremors through her.

She didn't cry. There were no tears left. This was another heartbreak to add to the many she'd already suffered.

To lose Gavin meant there was nothing more to hope for.

If it were not for the fact there was a battle ongoing, Freya would have packed and left. The exhaustion of the night before returned, but she slid from the bed and dressed.

As soon as possible, she would go to the village and find someone to take her to mainland Scotland. Perhaps she could find work at another keep.

The rain pelted her face the next morning when she opened the shutters to peer out. Gloomy and gray with heavy downfall, it was impossible to see far. It meant there would probably be no battle that day. Although she'd heard the Mackenzies seemed impervious to weather, it was doubtful they'd attack that day.

Since the laird had arrived with reinforcements, it had been quiet. Scouts must have reported it to the Mackenzies as they'd not reappeared.

Freya dressed in a hurry having decided that despite her having to leave, for the remaining time she was there, she'd continue to help the household. If not for someone having moved into the cottage, she would return there to make it easier to avoid Gavin.

The great room was a flurry of activity. Families who'd sought shelter were packing up, deciding to return to the village. The injured remained in the sitting room, being looked after. The usual long tables where people ate had been moved closer to the front of the room. There people huddled in groups having hushed conversations. Freya guessed they were deciding if it was safe to return home or wait.

She went to the sitting room to see about an injured warrior, who was alone. "Do ye require anything?"

He nodded. "Something to drink."

Freya went to a side table and poured ale into a cup then brought it to him.

Just then conversations ceased. The laird stalked in flanked by several men. He was one of the most striking men Freya had ever seen.

With raven dark hair and piercing deep green eyes, he was intimidating and stunning all at once. His shoulder-length hair flowed in waves just past his wide shoulders. Encased in a thick tunic, his muscular body was still evident. There was something about him that brought pause. Almost as if born for the role of leadership, he commanded attention.

Upon reaching the first bed, he stopped to talk to someone, then glanced to where she stood. Freya froze.

Was he about to come to her and ask that she leave?

To her horror, his eyes locked to hers as he walked closer and closer until stopping at the foot of the cot where the injured warrior lay.

He glanced at her. "Dinnae go. I wish to speak to ye."

Freya's blood turned cold, and she remained rooted to the spot.

"How do ye fare Xavier?" he asked the injured warrior.

"Well, Laird," the man replied with a grin. "Will be able to challenge ye to swordplay again."

The laird's eyes narrowed, but a smile played at the edges of his lips. "Challenge, aye. Beat me, never."

The injured man chuckled. "Give me a few days."

The exchange complete the laird returned his attention to Freya. He motioned for her to follow him outside past the great room and into the corridor that led to the kitchens.

Freya suddenly felt tiny when walking next to the huge man.

He hesitated just outside the great room his eyes scanned over her, but not in a lusty manner. It seemed more curious than anything. "I am nae sure what occurred between ye and my brother. He is furious. I am informed men are seeking ye."

Swallowing past the fear, Freya nodded. "Aye. I was betrothed to a man called Tasgall Macgregor. My brother found out that he had our parents murdered. He wants our home and lands. That is why we escaped and ye know the rest."

His expression never changed. Was it something warriors perfected? To keep from others knowing their thoughts. "Why did ye nae tell us all this upon arriving? Why instead keep silent?"

"Because I didnae know if Clan Ross would send me back to them. I still dinnae know if ye and Laird Macdonald of Eigg are allies. The Macdonald and my betrothed's family are close."

Once again, the laird remained silent, seeming to be considering what to say to her. Finally he met her gaze. "Whatever yer reasons are, yer silence has caused more harm. My brother is…" He stopped midsentence and looked toward the great room.

"I will arrange ye safe travel to Uist. Ye can find work there at our cousin's keep in Uist if ye wish. He will be informed of the truth."

Freya nodded as trails of tears flowed down her face. "I didnae wish to cause harm to Gavin or anyone here."

Alexander's lips pressed together, and his eyes snapped to her. "Then ye should have been honest with him." The laird turned on his heel and walked back to the great room.

"Ah, there ye are." Una appeared from a doorway, carrying folded linens. "I was wondering if ye would be up. It was a long day yesterday." She continued talking and Freya walked beside her toward the kitchens. She was numb, unable to speak or think clearly.

"Go on in there and get ye something to eat. Then I need ye in the laundry," Una called out over her shoulder as she headed toward the door leading out to the courtyard.

Thankfully the kitchen was much too busy for anyone to pay her any mind. She ladled soup into a bowl and tore off a chunk of bread that she buttered. After placing both items on the tray, she walked back to the great room. She helped the injured man, Xavier, to sit up and placed the tray on his lap. "I will return to get it in a bit."

She repeated the action several times, with the other injured men in the room.

The day before she'd noticed they'd not been fed until late, so she wanted to ensure they ate well so they could recover faster.

It was much later that she finally broke her fast. Despite the hunger, the food tasted bland. How long before she left for Uist? After eating she would gather her meager belongings and move into Flora's room to allow someone to have the small bedchamber she'd been given. Staying in the servants' quarters would make it easier to avoid Gavin.

A part of her wanted to speak to him and try to explain. Perhaps the laird would tell him what she'd said.

Would it matter?

"Freya?" Una had reappeared. "Come along lass."

She stood and followed behind the harried woman, who showed her into the laundry. "Ensure to wash all the filthy blankets and clothes," Una said to her and the other two women in the room.

Just then a chambermaid walked in with another armload. "These are bloody," the young woman said, her nose wrinkled. "And they smell."

The task of stirring the laundry in boiling water with lye and then spreading it out to dry outside was laborious, but Freya was glad for the work. With it being so cloudy, it was doubtful the linens would dry, but at least they aired out as the rain, albeit much lighter, continued to fall.

When going back and forth to the well, she caught sight of men on horseback leaving the keep. She ventured once to the wall to look out. An archer approached.

"Ye should nae be here. It could be dangerous." He didn't seem angry, just spoke evenly.

"Those of us inside wish to know if any Mackenzies have been seen," Freya said.

The archer shook his head. "Not in the last two days. If ye ask me, they are gone to other places to attack."

"I pray it is so," Freya said. After another glance across the courtyard, she returned to her chores.

After they finished washing the linens, they began the task of washing clothes. Freya recognized a tunic, and she lifted it. It was Gavin's. She'd wanted to ask the archer if he knew where Gavin was but had been unable to form the words.

It was later that day that the rain finally ceased, and she went out to check on the clothes that had been hung earlier. Since it was quite windy, all were dry. She began pulling one after the other and folding them into a basket.

She hesitated and walked to where she could see across the inlet. It was surprising to see several fishermen out on the water. People still had to eat and with only a few willing to fish, these men would most likely sell their entire catch.

On the shore a half sunken bìrlinn was the only indication of recent unrest.

Freya let out a long breath. There was no doubt that in the next day or two she would be gone. A part of her was thankful that the laird was willing to help her resettle. At the same time, how long before they came to look for her no matter where she went.

Perhaps it was best she leave on her own. Not tell anyone where she headed. It would be safer for the people of Clan Ross.