Chapter Five

"The poor wee ones," Una said to another woman in the laundry. "The smallest will nae remember her father."

They'd spent most of the day ruminating over the death of the man called Edgar, who'd been killed the day before. From what Freya gathered, he and his family were well-liked. Then again people always spoke well of the dead.

"I wonder where the men went today," the other woman said. The question had been repeated several times as everyone questioned if Gavin, Knox, and the others would return with the culprit.

A young lad rushed in, face flushed. "They return!" he yelled. "Mister Gavin returns with all the men." He raced away, probably to inform others.

"Come," Una grabbed Freya's hand. "Let us go see what occurs."

Despite not feeling as if she had any right to be part of what happened in the household, she was curious and allowed the older woman to pull her to the kitchen entrance where many of the servants had already gathered.

A pair of bold chambermaids went so far as to grab buckets and pretend to be fetching water, so they could get a good look to see who returned and hopefully hear what the men spoke about.

Atop his steed, Gavin presented a handsome picture. She could scarcely drag her gaze from him. Jaw set firm, eyes flat, he seemed in a sour mood. When looking to the other men, who'd returned with him, Freya noted they had the same expressions. Whatever they'd discovered it was not good news.

She let out a breath hoping it was not something so bad it would bring more sorrow to the clan.

Flora rushed up to stand beside her. She must have considered the same because she looked to Freya and shook her head.

They went back inside just as Peigi, the cook walked to the kitchen entrance. "Ye all have work to do, time to prepare last meal," she said to her kitchen maids.

Peigi's expression was glum when she turned to Freya. "Will ye help with serving? We are short of help, with two lasses sick."

"Aye, of course," Freya said.

Before she could walk into the kitchen, Peigi stopped her. "Go to the great room and find out when they'd like the meal served."

The woman looked grieved. "Whatever happens, I sense everyone will be in low spirits. I made fruit tarts and sweetened hot mead."

Peigi hurried away into the kitchen and Freya looked to Una who'd joined everyone in the kitchen. "Who should I ask?"

"Lady Ainslie," The woman replied giving her a soft push. "Go on lass. Dinnae tarry."

As Peigi predicted, the great room was quiet. Besides Ainslie, the only ones in the room were Gavin, Cynden, his cousin Knox, and a pair of warriors.

Ainslie sat with Lady Ross, who'd just returned that day. Upon seeing Freya, Ainslie motioned her closer.

Gavin looked up as she entered, his gaze following her progress. Freya kept her eyes downcast, not daring to meet his. It was hard not to look, but she didn't wish to be drawn into whatever sorrow surrounded everyone. She had enough sadness in her own life.

"Peigi wishes to know when ye would like the meal served," Freya said looking from Lady Ross to Ainslie, and dared a glance to see which table the men went to sit at in case Peigi asked.

Lady Ross gave her a curious look. "Ye look much better lass. How do ye fare?"

Caught by surprise that the woman remembered her, Freya took a moment to reply. "I am well. Thank ye, my lady."

"I am glad to hear it," the woman replied. "Tell Peigi to serve some sweetened hot mead. I believe it is needed."

"She is preparing it now." Freya replied.

Lady Ross nodded. "Tell Peigi, the meal can also be served." She looked to where the men sat. "I fear it will be a long night."

Freya hurried from the room and moments later returned, along with another kitchen maid to serve the hot beverages. Most of the men took the cups and drank from them absently.

Gavin, however, looked up and met her gaze. "Thank ye."

There was something in his expression akin to sadness or perhaps worry that made her want to ask questions. Though it was not her place to do so. No matter what the status of her birth, now she was nothing more than a servant at the Ross keep.

Once the meal was served, Freya was dismissed and without a reason to linger, she went to her cottage. She carried a tankard of the sweet mead wishing to drink it while she rested. Hopefully the drink would help her sleep.

She'd not needed to ask questions, rumors flew and soon the entire household was aware not only of the way the man Edgar had been horribly attacked and killed.

Instantly images of her own parents' senseless deaths had encompassed Freya almost doubling her with physical pain as sadness enveloped her. She'd never forget the images of them being brought back on the back of a wagon, their bruised and battered lifeless bodies being carried into the house.

Her sweet father had fought as much as he could against the attackers. He'd suffered greatly for it, his face had been unrecognizable.

Freya wiped tears that flowed freely down her face and let out a long breath. She couldn't allow despair to take over. Not now.

Carefully, she placed kindling in the small hearth, adding bits here and there until the fire burned fully, its heat flowing into the room.

Freya sat on her bed and sipped the mead as she pondered what had occurred that day and did it mean more death to come. Certainly with as many men as Clan Ross had, they would soon find those responsible. A shiver went through her and she glanced to the door, once again thankful to be inside the walls of the keep.

It had been pure luck that she and her brother had washed up near Keep Ross and had been given harbor there. Otherwise, Freya wasn't sure where she would have ended up.

The warmth of the mead settled in her stomach as she peered at the fire imagining that she was back home in her bedchamber, her parents in another room, and her brother nearby. It seemed like another lifetime since she'd been home and part of a family.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away. Nothing would bring that life back. It was best not to dwell on the sadness, but to remember the happy moments.

A knock on the front door jolted Freya out of her musings.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Who would come to her door?

Although several of the guards had made crude comments on occasion, none had dared be so bold as to come to her door. At least she hoped not.

She listened intently for a voice, hoping it was Flora or Una. Finally, she stood and went to the door.

"Who is it?"

"Gavin." The reply made her eyes widen.

There was little choice, she had to allow him in. Her hand trembled as she unbolted the door and opened it.

"Is something wrong?" Freya said, her voice breathless. She took a step back, unsure if she should invite him in.

"May I enter?" he asked.

Freya nodded, and he walked in. Immediately the tiny interior seemed even smaller making it hard to keep distance between them.

Gavin's face was etched with lines of exhaustion. He'd pulled the strap that held his shoulder length hair tied back leaving the tresses tussled, which unfortunately was rather flattering. A woman with windblown hair like that would look like a hag, but he looked as if recently ravished.

He lowered to the only chair in the room and looked to the fire. "It has been a hard day." Gavin didn't look at her, his gaze remaining on the flickering flames. It was almost as if he spoke to himself and not her.

Freya retrieved a small cup and poured half of the mead into it. Then she handed it to him. "What happened today?"

For a moment he didn't say anything, then his green gaze lifted to her. "For years we fought battles. Our people have suffered and lost so much. It was supposed to be over."

She nodded. "It is. The Mackinnon is dead."

His chuckle was mirthless. "He is."

"So this attack has something to do with the late laird?" Freya asked not wanting to know the answer, but realizing he wished to talk, to unburden to someone.

Gavin lifted the cup and looked at it as if noticing it for the first time. "I cannae drink this. It is for ye."

"I brought a large tankard of it. I have nae drunk all that I poured for myself."

"Ye are an intelligent lass. Aye, we believe men who were loyal to the late Mackinnon are who may now be attacking our people."

Freya remained silent, her stomach sinking at the news.

He sipped the drink and finally looked to her. "I am nae prepared to stand in my brother's stead. Munro is gone and has his own responsibilities. Cynden is young yet."

"If yer brother believes ye to be the one who will stand in his stead, then ye must. I hear from the staff that ye are a fair and good leader."

His astonished look almost made her smile. "Ye have heard thus?"

"I have," Freya said nodding. "And what is said in the servant quarters is usually negative."

He let out a long sigh. "Ye should nae be a servant. I know not who ye are, but it is obvious ye are highborn."

"I am here to seek refuge and must pay in some way. I dinnae mind and prefer keeping busy to being left to my thoughts with nothing to do. Una, Flora, and Peigi have been very kind to me."

They were silent for a few moments, it was interesting how comfortable she felt in his presence, despite the flurry of butterflies whenever their gazes met.

"In the past, the fighting brought many times of sorrow. Today, a family grieved the death of a man who did nothing to provoke it," Gavin said with a hard edge to his tone. "We are missing a guard and believe he too was attacked."

Freya thought back to how she and her brother had grieved the death of their parents. The pain had been unbearable. Crushing them. Making it impossible to think clearly or even function. Her heart went to the family who was currently experiencing such a burden.

"Ye know grief well," Gavin stated. "Yer brother died to save ye. It was honorable and yet unfortunate."

"If ye suspect who is responsible, then ye will find them and they will pay," Freya stated, needing to move the conversation away from her own pain. It would be hard to stop crying if she started. There were many things she feared disclosing, so it was best not to begin speaking about her family.

Gavin shook his head. "If my suspicious are correct, then there are some who dinnae accept Clan Ross as their overseers and seek to avenge their laird's death."

"But he was cruel and unjust," Freya countered. "Why would they remain loyal to such a man?"

"It is nae easy to accept defeat, to become subjects of a clan whom they fought against for a long time. If I am to be honest, this is nae unexpected. We should have been prepared for it."

"Why kill an innocent man?"

"That is what I must find out." He looked at her for a long time and she couldn't tear her eyes away.

His gaze turned hard. "The others have brought up another possibility. One I dinnae like."

Immediately she knew. They'd brought up that perhaps whoever searched for her was taking revenge on Clan Ross for giving her harbor. Freya's mouth turned dry making it impossible to speak.

"Yer secrets are yer own. However, understand that if they bring danger or trouble to our shores, it will be on yer head. Sooner rather than later, ye must talk."

A cold shiver went down Freya's spine. The same man who came to her with his troubles, now looked at her with suspicion.

"I prefer to think of ye as a kind woman. Someone who seeks refuge and will nae repay our amity with treachery or deceit."

When Gavin stood to his full height, again it was as if the room shrunk around them. He was both terrifying and enticing.

Freya got to her feet and met his gaze. "I dinnae feel that my past troubles would ever cause ye hardship. I would flee before allowing anything to affect the kind people of this keep."

"I hope what ye say is true." His expression softened when he looked from her to the door. "I want to believe ye, Freya."

He sought comfort and unable to keep from it, Freya touched Gavin's forearm. When he turned to her, she slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. It wasn't meant to be sensual or provocative. More someone comforting another person, giving them strength and understanding.

After a moment of hesitation, he released a long sigh and returned the hug, pressing his cheek to Freya's temple. Two people, unsure of the future, and sharing the understanding was what they were. Both needed the reassurance the other offered.

"All will be well," Freya said dropping her arms, feeling suddenly utterly sad that he could not remain. How she craved the company of another, sharing thoughts and talking of nothing important.

He gave her one last long look and walked away soon disappearing into the darkness of the courtyard beyond.

For hours, she tossed and turned in bed. The more she considered it, the stranger it was that Gavin had come to her that evening. Surely he could have unburdened himself with either his brothers or his family.

Was there perhaps a lover that he could share all his thought with?

Although she didn't think he had a lover, the thought of a woman with him, made her insides twist. Freya kicked the blankets off and went to the hearth, adding another log. Of all the stupid things she could do, allowing feelings for a man to grow, would be the worst.

After all, it had been emotions—thinking herself in love—that had been the catalyst for the demise of her entire family. Her parents and brother were dead because she'd been blind to what was clearly in front of her.

Gavin's words of it being on her head were true, and terrifying. The burdens she brought with her from the past were already unbearable, she could never bear bringing troubles to more people.

Despite the words she'd uttered, her betrothed was a ruthless man who cared for no one but himself. He was capable of murder, of killing whoever stood in his path. Perhaps she should tell Gavin everything and let him decide if she should go away.

At thoughts of Tasgall Macgregor, fear overtook, and she began to shiver. Was he coming for her? Was he already there and killing whoever didn't tell him where she was?

Knowing she'd be unable to sleep, Freya poured water from a pitcher into the pot that hung on a hook, added herbs and swung it over the fire to simmer.

As she watched the flames, she considered what to do. She had only managed to save a few coins. To be able to afford to travel elsewhere and scratch out the beginnings of a meager existence, she needed another several month's worth of wages. Then she could buy fare and head to a place far away.

One thing was certain, she could not remain in the same place for long.