Page 32 of A Fearless Rebel

“Lady Fraser has invited us to picnic in the garden tomorrow,” her aunt announced, having neared. “I am afraid this day has proven too much and I must retire.”

Ava stood and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Thank ye for coming, Aunt Theresa. Yer presence means so much to me.”

Her aunt nodded in understanding. “I worry for ye, sweet dear. It will be hard to leave ye here. However, I will have to trust that yer husband will keep ye safe.”

Both looked to where Keithen and the two men remained. All three were in deep conversation with gesturing and such. It looked as if they were close friends.

When she sat, Catriona too looked to where the men were. “The man on the left is Ewan Ross, cousin to Laird Malcolm Ross. He, along with fifty men, came to live here after our alliance with his clan. The other is Broden McRainey, a guard and childhood friend of Keithen’s.”

“Yer clan and Clan Ross have become very close,” Ava stated matter-of-factly. “Tis nice when those things happen on friendly terms.”

“Aye,” Catriona agreed. “I plan to visit, once I am able to travel…I miss Esme greatly.”

Esme Ross had married a cousin to Laird Ross, Ruari, a man Ava had met once. She had been struck by the man’s large physique.

It was not much later that Keithen came to fetch her. Obviously, he’d noticed her yawning. Catriona and Flora stood and also claimed to be retiring.

Altogether, by the end of the evening, Ava had not had a totally unpleasant day. Ending the evening in the company of women had not been something she was used it and she had struggled to maintain a conversation. Thankfully, Catriona seemed to not mind long moments of silence.

The bedchamber had been prepared for them. Obviously, someone had ordered fresh bedding and for the fire to be lit. There was a pitcher of flowers on a table and neatly folded cloths on the wash basin.

Unsure how to proceed, Ava moved to stand in front of the fire and held out her hands although, if she were to be honest, it wasn’t necessary.

“I will give ye privacy to prepare for bed,” Keithen said and walked out of the room.

It wasn’t going to be that way between them for long, she was aware. However, it was very kind of him to allow it then. Ava hurriedly undressed and with the water and a fragrant poultice that were on the washstand, cleansed away the dirt of the day. Once done, she slipped a night rail on over her head and climbed into the bed.

Not much later, Keithen entered. He didn’t look toward the bed, but instead went to the wardrobe and removed his boots and trews. She noted he left his tunic on and then, like her, washed up at the washstand.

Then he climbed into bed and lay on his back looking up at the ceiling.

“I am not used to sharing my bedchamber…or my bed actually,” he said, still looking straight up. “If I do something while I’m asleep that annoys ye, do not hesitate to jab me with yer elbow.”

Ava turned to gape at him. “Jab ye?”

“Ye know,” he demonstrated by gently pushing his elbow into her side. “To wake me.”

She considered it for a long moment. The conversation was not what she’d expected. “Do ye keep a dirk under yer pillow? What if ye think I am an intruder?”

“Good point.” He slid from the bed, reached under his pillow and pulled out not one, but two blades. Then he walked to the fireplace and put them on the mantel.

Ava lay on her back and met his gaze. If they were to have relations, she prepared herself mentally and was as ready as one could be for the cumbersome activity. “Can ye douse the light please?”

“Aye, of course.” The room was instantly darker. However, there was a bright moon and so she could still make him out.

He climbed into the bed and let out a loud yawn. “Sleep well.”

Her husband turned on his side, the wideness of his back blocking her view of the doorway.

“Good…night,” Ava finally replied, unsure what was transpiring. She was about to poke him in the back with a finger and ask if she should do something, but the sound of a soft snore stopped her.

When morning came, Ava sighed, not wanting to wake. It was so very warm in the cocoon she’d made for herself. The softness of the bedding as well as the firm structure she was pressed against made for a perfect restful morning. And then her eyes flew wide.

Not only was she in a strange place, but she was firmly pressed against her husband’s side.

She wiggled away from him and pressed her face into the pillow to keep quiet as she gasped for air. Thankfully, he seemed to continue to sleep.

When her breathing regulated, she looked toward Keithen through slitted eyes. He was on his back, one arm over his head, the other across his midsection. The blankets had slipped just past his chest and his tunic had ridden halfway up his chest. There was a sprinkling of hair that trickled down the center of it.