Chapter Twelve

Somehow Freya managed not to gasp at walking in and finding that Gavin had awakened. He had a pillow beneath his head and shoulders, so he wasn't flat on his back, but not quite sitting up. Still his gaze locked on her as soon as she walked in. Freya had looked away, concentrating on what she carried, fully aware the laird would not be happy to find her there.

Although fully expecting that she'd be sent away, it had been Gavin's injury that had kept the family distracted from doing so. Not only that, but every warrior was busy patrolling the Ross lands. Once finding areas safe, they began escorting those who'd sought harbor in the keep, back to their homes.

Several families, who lived in the furthermost farms were still at the keep waiting to be escorted back. It was a time-consuming process. Freya was astonished at how well the laird cared for his people. Not one person's safety was ignored. Even the surly ones, who demanded to be next.

Gavin's bedchamber was dim.

"Can we open the shutters?" the healer asked. "I must see."

Freya waited for Lady Ross to nod, and she put the pot of hot water and clean clothes down and opened the shutters. Sunlight poured in and she noticed Gavin closed his eyes and then blinked them open while adjusting to the brightness. He met her gaze and for a moment they looked at one another.

Freya looked away first and hurried to stand next to the healer.

The blanket was pushed down past Gavin's stomach. The bandage wrapped around his midsection had a dark bloody stain, but it was dry.

"We will have to pull ye up to sit. It may hurt, but I dinnae expect it to be too bad," the healer said to Gavin and grabbed his right hand.

"Take his other arm," he instructed Freya sliding his hand under his arm.

"Slowly," he said as they pulled Gavin up to sit.

Gavin moaned and let out a harsh breath his face contorting. "It-it h-hurts pretty badly," he gritted out.

"The arrow went through, and the injury was made worse by what I imagine is ye continuing to fight. It tore through a great deal of flesh."

Lady Ross made a strangled sound and Freya glanced to her. "Do ye need to sit down my lady?"

The woman had become pale. "I hate to see my lad in pain." She gave Gavin an apologetic look, tears glistening.

"Mother, please go."

Lady Ross seemed about to argue, but Gavin repeated the request, and she went from the room.

"Now, we must unwrap the bandage, do ye think ye will be able to remain upright?" the healer asked, and Gavin nodded.

It was then Freya realized she was still holding his arm. She pulled away without looking at him.

As the healer unwrapped the bandage, he asked Freya to wet the area with a wet cloth so not to tear away at his wound.

She moved from the front of him to the back as the healer removed the wrapping. It felt almost intimate to be so close to him. To touch his body. Thoughts of being with them in the forest formed and were hard to push away.

Finally the bandage was removed to reveal a jagged cut that had been stitched closed.

Gavin looked down examining it. "How is the back?" He met her gaze as he asked.

Freya leaned down to look at the back wound. "Not as large. About half the size."

Once the healer cleaned the wound and slabbed a thick poultice to the area, they wrapped a new bandage around him.

"I will instruct the cook what to make for ye. 'Tis important ye eat as much as ye can."

The healer looked to the bloody bandages and crimson water. "Ensure to clear it all out."

Freya nodded and picked up the pot, then proceeded to pour the bloodstained water out the window. She then stuffed the dirty cloths into the same pot to take down to the laundry.

"Can ye fold a blanket behind my back?" Gavin asked. When Freya looked up, she noted the healer had left them alone.

"Of course." She hurried to do as he asked. When he didn't lean back, she waited. "Do ye need help?"

Gavin let out a breath. "I know it will hurt. Cannae be worse than what I have already felt."

"I will help ye." She went to stand beside the bed and held him by the shoulders. "Slowly."

He grimaced, letting out soft grunts.

This was perhaps the only opportunity to speak to him in private and Freya would not let it pass. She went to stand at the foot of the bed.

"I owe ye an apology," she began.

Gavin's gaze bore into hers. It felt like a caress, and she fought not to touch him again.

Finally he spoke. "There is nothing to say Freya."

"I should have trusted ye," Freya continued not willing to let the moment pass without her saying something. "It is just that I was so very afraid. He killed my parents."

He nodded but remained silent. The fact he didn't react meant that in all probability he didn't believe her.

"First my father, then my mother. Beathan, my brother, found out. He overheard two men talking about how they would kill him next. They planned to ask him to go hunting and then return with stories of how he'd died. That is when we escaped. We dinnae have time to get anything…" The words stopped when grief choked her, making it impossible to keep talking.

"If that is true, then the fact ye both arrived in such horrible shape makes it believable. What will ye do now?"

His tone was flat. If he'd ever cared for her even a bit, it was gone. Trust had been lost and he would never allow her close again. Every emotion crushed through her. Despondency the strongest.

"Yer brother has offered to send me to Uist."

Finally he looked at her again. "I wish ye well."

It was as if someone had sliced through her and Freya flinched, her breath escaping in an audible whoosh. She grabbed the edge of the blankets and pulled them up to cover his wounded midsection.

His hand covered hers, and when she looked at his face, his eyes were closed.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I am so very sorry. The one thing I am grateful for in all of this is to have known ye. I should have trusted ye with my secrets." Freya grabbed the tray with dirty bandages and fled from the room stopping just a few feet in the corridor as sobs overtook and she crumpled to the floor.

"Freya." Flora hurried by with a tray. "Stay there, I will return shortly."

Her friend went into Gavin's room. It was not much later that she emerged without the tray. "He insists he can feed himself. Quite surly, which means he is definitely recovering," Flora chatted, lowering to sit next to her.

Many times, Freya had been thankful for her friend, now more than ever. Flora didn't expect explanations but accepted things as they were. And if Freya shared then Flora listened.

"I am going away," Freya finally said, her voice just above a whisper. "The laird is sending me to Uist, to his cousin, Laird Ross' household."

"To keep ye safe?" Flora asked. When Freya gave her a questioning look, her friend smiled softly. "It is obvious by ye nae speaking of yer past, that ye are running from something. Or someone."

Freya nodded. "Aye, to keep the people who killed my family from finding me. And they dinnae wish for my presence to bring more chaos to this clan."

"I dinnae want ye to go," Flora said, her pretty face etched with sadness. "Ye are my first good friend."

"I dinnae wish to leave ye either," Freya replied. "But I must go. There is no other recourse."

Flora looked toward Gavin's door. "What about him?"

Obviously not much had gotten past Flora. "He does nae trust me because I never told him why I was here. He is rather angry with me."

"That is selfish," Flora said crossing her arms. "Ye were only protecting yerself. If it was nae that I am but a servant, I would tell him myself."

Freya couldn't help but chuckle. "Ye are a good friend."

That evening Freya was still in the chamber on the second floor. Una had insisted another girl had to stay in Flora's room and that Freya had to remain in the one the family had given her.

She paced and thought about the fact she'd leave shortly. Perhaps she could try speaking to the laird again and ask to remain at the village. Not that it would do any good. She couldn't guarantee that the Tasgall wouldn't send a larger group of men after her. Although they'd be no match for Ross warriors, it didn't mean it was a welcome probability.

There was very little to be done, but to pack her few belongings and prepare to leave.

Unable to sleep, she grabbed a shawl and left her room. There was a light coming from a doorway and she walked closer. It was Lady Ross' sitting room. Freya would ask to sit with her for a bit, but upon voices spilling out, she stopped.

"Ye should allow her to remain," Lady Ross said. "I think it will help Gavin."

"What of her past?" It was Alexander, the laird who spoke with his mother. And they were talking about her.

"Do ye trust her, Mother?"

There was a beat of silence before Lady Ross replied, "What is there nae to trust. Send someone to find out. We have friends in Eigg, why not send someone to find out what occurs there? If it is true that the Craigs were slain, then perhaps those responsible should be brought to justice."

Alexander cleared his throat. "Why would I go to all this trouble? I have other more important matters. We have nae found out who is behind the attacks prior to the Mackenzies coming."

"For yer brother. Once Gavin is better, if ye wish to send her away do it then."

The silence continued for longer and Freya decided it was best she return to her bedchamber.

Lady Ross was concerned for Gavin, which was understandable. Still it hurt to hear that they would simply "send her away" at Gavin recovering. Her presence wouldn't help anything. If she'd mattered to him in the slightest, it was gone now.

Most of her belongings were already packed. Freya grabbed the last few items and tossed them into a sack. Then she crept down the stairs and went to the servant's quarters.

She pushed the door to Flora's tiny room open, placed her bundle on the floor and then climbed into Flora's bed. The lass stretched and yawned, sleeping cap askew, she could barely keep her eyes open.

"I've decided to leave. I will go today," Freya whispered.

Flora scrunched her face. "Explain why ye are leaving on yer own."

"I must. Tis best no one knows where I go. I do wish for ye to inform the laird once they discover I am gone. I dinnae want them thinking the men who search for me had something to do with it."

"What will I say?" Flora asked.

"Tell them that I decided to leave on my own. That I preferred no one know where I go."

Flora looked on the verge of tears. "Will ye nae tell even me?"

Freya's own eyes stung. "I plan to find a way to get to mainland Scotland. Perhaps find employment there. I am nae sure how to go about it, but hopefully something will occur to me."

"That is so very dangerous," Flora exclaimed. "So much can go wrong."

"I know." Flora wiped away an errant tear. "However, I never planned to remain this long to begin with. Tis best I go."

By the time the sun rose, Freya was at the village. She'd been fortunate that a man with a cart was heading to Tokavaig after bringing items to the keep. The older man was friendly and seemed thankful for her company as he chatted the entire way, not bothering to ask her any questions about exactly where she was headed. He accepted her initial explanation of being a servant going to visit family.

Once in the village, she walked to the stables and inquired about going to the mainland. The stablemaster was an intimidating man, who eyed her with barely concealed distrust. "I have never seen ye before. Where are ye from?"

Freya gave him her best innocent look. "I have been working at the Ross keep for months now. I rarely leave. Now I must go visit my ailing grandmother."

"Wait here," he replied and walked away in the direction of the tavern.

When he returned, another man came with him. Freya pushed away her fear and met the men's gazes.

The man seemed nice, of medium build, older. "I leave to Dornie, I can take ye that far."

Hope instantly sprung. "When do ye leave?"

"Today." It was all the man said and the stablemaster chuckled.

"Martina is taking her time packing then?" The stablemaster asked.

Freya perked up at hearing a woman would be traveling. "I can help her. I have nae else to do but wait."

The man's house was a long walk, by the time they got there, a red-faced woman greeted her husband with narrowed eyes. "And where have ye been? I have been loading everything on my own." She ignored Freya and continued glaring at her husband. "At the tavern, eh? Had to see yer lads before leaving, I bet."

Finally she seemed to notice Freya. "And ye, where did he find ye?"

"The stables… I am offering to pay to go along with ye," Freya answered.

"Come on then, put that in the back." The woman pointed at her sack. "Norman, fetch the last of the things while I have a bit to eat." She looked Freya over and then gave a little nod. "I bet ye 'ave nae eaten."

Freya followed a surprisingly swift Martina into the house, where she rushed to the hearth and began frying eggs and waving a cloth around to shoo chickens out the back door. "Eat before we leave or the chickens will steal it," she called out.

A young man walked in, he eyed Freya for a moment then stood next to the door with a bored look.

"See after the chickens. Ensure to feed them. Do nae burn the house down son," Martina instructed between bites.

The chaos of Norman and Martina's household was a welcome distraction from her heartbreak.

It wasn't much later that they rode away from the village at a slow pace. Martina spoke nonstop about visiting her family and how she'd come from there with Norman to Tokavaig when newly married. She grumbled about missing her family and how she'd been trying to convince Norman to move there.

"Is there a large estate nearby that perhaps I can find work?" Freya asked.

Martina eyed her. "I suppose if ye worked for the Ross, ye can work at the castle there. Clan Macrae may welcome the help. Nae too many villagers live nearby,"

Freya eyed the sky, it was heading toward the afternoon. Had her absence been noted yet?

If so, no doubt the stablemaster would inform whoever came asking. She'd not thought and had been honest about where she worked.

When Norman and Martina stopped to rest for what seemed like the tenth time, she wanted to scream in frustration.

"How much longer before we arrive?" she asked, following Martina to some bushes. "I must find a place to sleep once there."

"We should arrive before night fall. Ye can stay with us until morning," Martina replied.

"I dinnae wish to be a bother. I can stay on the back of the wagon." Freya peered toward where they came from looking for any signs of riders.

Martina chuckled. "Ye will nae do anything of the sort."

Upon returning to the wagon, Norman stood looking to the distance where two men on horseback ambled in their direction.

Freya's blood ran cold at the sight. Praying it wasn't the duo from Eigg, she narrowed her eyes attempting to see them clearer, but they were still too far away.

Norman motioned for them to hurry to the wagon. "Come now. Dinnae want to catch their attention." It was evident he meant Freya as his gaze landed on her. Freya's breath caught and she nodded as she and Martina clambered onto the back of the wagon.

She pulled a cap from her bag and stuffed her hair into it, then pulled it low. Martina gave her a quizzical look but didn't say anything. Thankfully she'd thought to carry the dirk Gavin had gifted her in the pocket of her skirts.

Sitting in the back of the wagon meant she couldn't see the men, so she settled down and pulled her knees up to her chest calling on all the holy beings that they continue on without stopping.

It seemed only moments later that the riders called out to Norman. Norman exchanged words of greeting.

The men continued past the wagon. Freya held her breath, not daring to look up. Just as they passed one of them hesitated.

The horses came to a stop.

Freya's blood ran cold, she kept her face turned.

"Freya." Tasgall's voice was level.

She finally looked up and was met with his cold gaze.

He looked to Norman, who'd climbed down and stood between the horsemen and the wagon.

"What happens?" He looked to Freya. "Do ye know this man?"

Tasgall's bark of laughter sounded hollow. "Aye she knows me."

Norman seemed at a loss at what to do.

"Do nae interfere," Martina pleaded softly.

Freya's voice shook and she spoke in a whisper so only the woman could hear her. "He is dangerous. Go with yer husband. I will leave with him, I do nae wish to put ye and yer husband in harm's way."

Tasgall and his companion pulled swords and Norman took a wobbly step backward. The older man was no match for them.

"Leave them be. I will go with ye," Freya said scrabbling from the back of the wagon.

Tasgall dismounted and walked to Norman holding the sword to the man's neck. "They can alert whoever ye were staying with."

"They do nae know anything," Freya insisted, pushing herself in front of Norman.

The slap was so hard, she fell sideways. She'd not seen him raise his hand until it was too late.

Martina cried out at seeing Freya fall, but her eyes went back to her husband, who kept his ground.

"Let them go," Freya scrambled to her feet and rushed to Tasgall, who kept his sword at Norman's neck, seeming to enjoy the discomfort he was causing the older man.

He grabbed Freya's hair, pushing her toward the horse. "keep your mouth shut."

Slicing across, he cut the older man's upper arm. Norman and Martina both cried out. The man stumbled backward in shock.

The cut didn't look deep, at least that's what Freya hoped.

Tasgall glared at the older couple. "Donnae follow us." He turned and went to where Freya stood.

Norman managed to climb onto the bench and with his wife's help they urged the horse to take them away.

The further they went, the harder Freya shook. Her only hope now was that someone would come looking for her. They had to traverse through Ross lands to get to the shore where they would catch a bìrlinn headed for Eigg.

Tasgall grabbed her by the shoulders his face transformed into a mask of fury, upper lip curling and nostrils flaring. "Because of ye, I have had to leave my duties to search ye out. I am nae pleased with ye."

"Ye could have declared me dead. I am sure ye and yer family are already living in my home. Claiming my lands."

This time his fist sunk into her stomach, and she fell to the ground as all air left her body. The strike fanned the embers of hatred that already existed. Freya could barely move, her legs almost gave out when he yanked her up to stand.

"I feel sorry for ye Tasgall. That yer greed has pushed ye to do things there is no forgiveness for." Her words rasped out, barely above a whisper.

He lifted his hand to strike again, but his companion spoke up. "Enough Tasgall, we must find a place to sleep. Cannae have her all bruised up. People will notice."

His hand wrapped around her arm so hard she flinched. Yanking her to the horse he lifted her upon it then mounted.

It was best to keep a clear mind. Freya hung her head as if in defeat not wishing to alert him that she was considering when to kill him.