Highlander’s Phantom Lass: A Steamy Scottish Medieval Historical Romance

by Ann Marie Scott

  “Och, Breta, ye do look like a new person this morning,” Trevor teased as she walked into the main room of the hut that they lived in. “At least I can tell ’tis ye this time.”

  Breta smirked at her brother-in-law. “Aye, but the ruse worked, didnae it?”

  He regarded her with a solemn look. “Any Scot would know that ye aren’t a lad if they looked hard enough. Ye are playing a dangerous game, Sister.”

  “Aye, she is,” Garia added as she joined them, with Erik on her hip. “But I am proud of her nevertheless.”

  “’Tis reckless!” Trevor frowned. “Yer da is going tae have yer arse when he finds out.”

  “Then he cannae find out,” Breta responded as Tulia tugged on her tunic until she picked her up. Her sister was the proud mother of four children, with Calum being the oldest and the spitting image of his warrior father in his eighth year. Tulia was next, a precious lass in her seventh year. Erik looked like the McLeish clan in his fifth year, and reminded Breta of Ferra more than Garia.

  But it was Herta that had all their hearts at three years of age—the spitting image of Garia but with her father’s temperament. Right now, she was climbing all over Calum who was trying to feed her her morning fare. He was wearing more of it than she had in her mouth.

  “Besides,” Breta continued, tweaking one of Tulia’s rosy cheeks with her fingers. “I remember someone else being reckless once upon a time.”

  “That was different,” Trevor grumbled, though some of the fight left his stance. It had been Trevor that had been sent out to bring Garia home, instead wedding her and bringing her to the McDougal land to continue to birth bairns. Already they were outgrowing the larger hut they had moved into last season. “’Tis yer sister I was trying tae save. I cannae help I fell in love with her.”

  Garia’s face softened at her husband’s words, and Breta sighed. They were impossible to be around most days because of the looks they gave each other.

  “Well, if I am tae be in these games, I better start walking.” It would not be a long walk, but would give Breta a chance to get her blood flowing for the early morning hour.

  “Nay,” Trevor stated, dropping his arms. “I will take ye.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a knock sounded on their door; Trevor moved to open it. Breta hid her surprise as William strode in, his eyes searching the room until he landed on her. He was far different in the morning light, the angles of his face more prominent than they had been last evening. He was dressed in similar attire as she was, though his sword was resting between his shoulder blades as if it were a part of him.

  It wasn’t hard to also see the way his jaw clenched as he found her, clearly perturbed that he was here to begin with.

  “Will?” Trevor asked. “Wot are ye doin’ here?”

  William cleared his throat. “I’ve come tae take Breta back tae the camp.”

  “Truly?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Ye rode on mah horse last night. There is no reason that ye cannae do it again.”

  Breta didn’t miss the look that passed between her sister and her husband. Clearly, this was not something that they would witness the second-in-command do to begin with, which made Breta wonder if he meant to deliver her to her father this morning.

  “I want yer word,” she started, crossing her arms over her chest, “that ye are going tae take me to the games and not tae mah da.”

  He arched a brow. “Do ye doubt mah word now?”

  He had said something similar to her last evening, but Breta needed to make certain he kept it. “’Tis a new day, Scot.”

  Irritation flickered in his eyes. “I rode all this way tae get ye, didnae I?”

  That was true. He had come to give her a way to the games. “Ye didnae answer mah question,” she said instead. “Give me yer word.”

  “I think ye can trust him, Breta,” her sister said softly, placing her hand on Breta’s arm. “Will is an honorable Scot, and if he told ye he was going tae protect ye, then he meant it.”

  Breta knew what her sister was trying to do, but she had her happy life. She had everything she had ever wished for, and if Will were going to take her to the games, there was always the chance he could give her to her father.

  This meant a great deal to her, and no one understood it but Breta.

  “I won’t turn ye over, lass.”

  His words were so soft that Breta barely heard them. She lifted her eyes to his and was surprised by how soft his entire expression had grown. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she had to look away, confused by the swirl of emotions in her stomach.

  It was no longer because she was nervous, that was for certain.

  “Let me get mah things then,” she murmured, escaping to the small alcove where she had slept with Tulia last night. Grabbing her cloak and weapons, Breta forced herself to draw in a breath, steadying her nerves. She needed to focus on the games and not the handsome Scot that was confusing her.

  Maybe he was doing it deliberately, to distract her from what she had come for.

  “Breta?”

  Breta turned to find her sister waiting for her. “I’m proud of ye,” Garia said softly, a tender smile on her face. “Ye have always been the one that has been the thorn in Da’s side.”

  Breta returned her sister’s smile. “I dinnae wish tae be. If he plans on marrying me off in the next year, I want tae have this tae remember.”

  Her sister nodded in understanding, reaching out to take her hand. “After me, he will be more selective with yer husband, I’m sure of it.”

  “I dinnae want a husband,” Breta grumbled.

  Well, at least not straight away.

  Garia laughed, squeezing her hands before dropping them. “Ye will find yer mate, love, and when ye do, ye will know it.”

  The ride to the games was quiet, mainly because Breta was too afraid to speak to Will. He didn’t have an arm around her this time, but she was well aware of his broad chest pressed against her back, the way he held the reins with both hands, caging her in. Something had changed since last night, since the first time they had laid eyes on each other, and Breta was unsure what it meant.

  “Why did ye come for me?” she heard herself ask as the horse ambled along.

  A chuckle rumbled against her back. “Did ye think I would let ye walk this morning?”

  “I’m not yer concern.”

  “Aye, and I am glad of it.”

  Breta frowned at his response. Glad of it? She hadn’t been any issue to him.

  Well, maybe she had, but he could have dropped her off at her sister’s hut last night and wiped his hands of her.

  Yet here they were, seated on the same horse yet again. “Are ye fighting in the games?” she asked instead, hoping to pass the time.

  “Nay,” he replied a moment later. “I’m far too busy tae do so.”

  “But ye are the laird’s second,” she argued, wishing she could twist around to glare at him.

  “And?”

  Breta looked down at the scarred hands that held the reins before her, the way his fingers tightened around the leather straps.

  “Perhaps ye are too busy tae play with the likes of us. I dinnae want tae beat ye anyway.”

  The grip tightened more, and Breta knew she had hit a sore spot. She didn’t know what was making her pick a fight with him, but it made her feel better about being stuck on a horse with him, fighting something else that she didn’t clearly understand.

  “Ye think ye can beat me? Who won last night?”

  She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. “I wouldn’t call that winning. I wasnae prepared tae fight.”

  He sputtered and she sat up straighter as the camp came into view. This morning it was abuzz with activity, the smell of roasting meat heavy in the air, causing her stomach to rumble. Apprehension slid through Breta as they drew closer, wondering if she had made a mistake. What if she couldn’t get past the first game?

  What if she wasn’t ready?


  “Ye better pull yer hood up, Breta,” Will said. “Unless ye want yer da tae see ye.”

  She quickly did as he stated, her breathing coming faster now. This was it. She could tell Will to take her back to Garia’s, borrow a horse, and head for home.

  Or she could participate.

  Will drew the horse to a halt right outside the perimeter of camp. “Ye better go, lass,” he stated, his words muffled due to her hood, “if ye want tae make it tae the first game.”

  “I cannae,” she forced out, sliding off the horse. “I cannae do this.”

  He followed her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to look at him. “Ye’re backing out?” he asked, surprise filtering through his expression.

  “I’m a fool,” she said, perilously close to tears. “This was a foolish mistake.”

  Will surprised her by grabbing her other arm lightly, bringing her close enough to him that she could see the odd gold flecks in his eyes. “I didnae peg ye for a quitter,” he told her softly. “Wot are ye scared of?”

  “Failure.” If she failed in the first game, her father would realize who she was, and he would be disappointed that she hadn’t made it any further. He was strong.

  Garia was strong.

  Breta was not.

  Will frowned at her. “Everyone fails. ’Tis not a reason tae back down. Ye have tae go out there and take failure by looking it dead in the eye. Make it back down, but dinnae let it consume ye.”

  “I thought ye wanted me not tae participate,” she said softly, surprised by his declaration.

  “Aye, but that was before I knew whose sister ye were,” he answered, a slight grin on his face. “If ye are anything like Garia, then the lot has something tae be worried aboot.” He let her go, clearing his throat. “Now go on. Ye dinnae want tae miss the start.”

  Breta stared at him for a long minute before squaring her shoulders and walking away, toward the games. She hadn’t come all this way to second-guess herself. She had come to participate in these games, and that was what she was going to do.

  When she reached the interior of the camp, Breta found the laird and her warrior standing on the dais from last evening, the other participants already gathered around them. She slunk into the crowd of Scots, keeping her head low as the others shuffled around her.

  “Welcome to the first game,” Lady Katherine called out over the crowd. “I hope that ye enjoy wot we have planned for ye.” Her expression grew serious as she looked at them. “We wilnae tolerate any cheats. All games must be won fairly or the participant will be disqualified. This is meant tae be a bit of fun and chance for all of Scotland tae see the finest clansmen representing their clans.”

  A cheer went up, and Breta was surprised to see one of her father’s warriors standing nearby, clearly ready to participate. It mattered not, of course. She was still participating, and no one would know her clan until she won.

  Then she would announce her clan and see the pride in her father’s eyes as she did so.

  “The bows are over there,” Katherine said, pointing to the long table placed in the pasture. “Ye will only use the bows provided tae ensure that no Scot has any advantage.”

  There were collective groans from some in the crowd, likely those that had their preferred bow and arrow.

  Breta hadn’t brought her own, so she was glad that she didn’t have to barter for one.

  “The targets are set at various distances. Each of ye will have yer own colored arrow, and the goal is tae get closest tae the bullseye the quickest ye can. Ye will be split into groups of ten so don’t tarry or ye wilnae be winning these games.”

  A race and an archery contest? She could do both, of course, even if they asked them to shoot from a moving horse, but she didn’t imagine many would adhere to the laird’s request for no cheats.

  They were sectioned off, and she felt the sweat beads roll down her back, wishing she could throw off the heavy cloak to bring some cool air on her skin. After picking her bow and her yellow-tipped arrows, Breta stood at the line with the rest of her group, having been picked to go first. The only way she was going to win this was to hit every target perfectly and use her size to her advantage, moving quicker than some of these Scots. While they might have brute strength, that wasn’t something that was needed in this challenge, and Breta smiled to herself as she thought about her advantage.

  In the later games, she would likely struggle to keep up, but this one was made for her.

  “Ready yer bows!” Katherine called out, holding the white flag high in the air. “When the flag drops, ye will begin!”

  Breta gripped the bow and arrow so tightly, she was afraid that the wood would split her skin. Quick and accurate. That was what she needed to be.

  Quick and accurate.

  Her eyes strayed to the flag, and she blocked out everything around her but that flag, focusing on her breathing. The moment she allowed herself to grow anxious, she would lose sight of what she was doing, which would not bode well for this challenge.

  Katherine smirked as the flag dropped from her hand, but Breta was already moving before it hit the ground.

  The games were afoot.

  12

  Will tried not to show any outward signs of concern as he watched Breta move from the starting line, clearly getting a head start over the heavy Scots in her group. He hated to admit it, but his eyes hadn’t left her since he had joined Katherine and Cameron on the dais, wondering if she thought him a fool for his speech.

  He should have stuck to his original plan and escorted her to her father this morning. It had been the plan when he had ridden to the hut, knowing that she was going to get herself hurt if she participated in the games.

  But when he arrived at the hut and saw her, Will knew it was none of his concern whether or not she participated.

  He wanted her to participate. It was the fierce determination that had drawn him in first, knowing that she had risked everything to come and do this. She was hiding from her father, wanting to prove herself, and he wasn’t one to stand in the way of anyone that was doing so.

  Will had been in that position before. He had stood before Trevor and wanted to prove to him that he was worthy of being a McDougal warrior. No one else believed in him, and if he had stopped believing in himself, he wouldn’t be in the position he was in today.

  So he hadn’t let her give up, even when she tried to earlier. He wanted her to feel like she had accomplished everything she had set out to do, and he didn’t want to see her fail.

  He watched as she drew back her arrow and let it sail at the first target, the tip whacking into the painted target a moment later.

  Dead center. Even from his vantage point, he could feel her smirk as she raced to the next one.

  “Wot has ye smiling so?”

  Will didn’t tear his gaze from Breta. “Nothing.”

  Cameron chuckled. “I’ve known ye for a long time, Will. Something has captured yer attention...or is it someone?”

  Breta hit the next target with ease and was already moving on to the third one, leaving her fellow competitors far behind her. “I’m enjoying the game, that is all.”

  Cameron stepped in front of Will’s line of sight, and Will never wanted to push him out of the way like he did now. “Och, have I made ye angry?” Cameron asked lightly, arching a brow.

  “Nay,” Will grumbled, forcing himself to look at the man and not over his shoulder. The cheers grated on him, and he couldn’t help but wonder who they were for and if Breta was still in the lead.

  “I think so,” Cameron answered, tapping his chin with his finger. “Someone does have yer attention. I’ve never seen ye like this before.”

  Another cheer went up, and he moved past Cameron then, spying Breta far ahead, hitting the target dead center again. She might be a laird’s daughter, but the lass could shoot as well as any of his warriors.

  “Ah, I see it now.”

  “Cameron, leave him be!” Katherine finally hissed. “Ye
’re worse than a lass trying to rile him up!”

  “He’s infatuated,” Cameron said smugly, winking at Will. “The lass’s skills are impressing him.”

  At Will’s shocked expression, Cameron laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “’Tis obvious the way she carries herself. Any Scot that looks at her will know unless he’s daft. The bigger question is, do ye know who she is?”

  “Nay,” he stated, swallowing the truth. Breta was entrusting him to keep her secret, and he was going to do so.

  Cameron eyed him. “Nay, ye know. Why are ye hiding it, Will?”

  He didn’t have a chance to answer, as Breta hit the last target, her hood hiding her expression as the crowd cheered. She had done it. She had won out of her group, solidifying her chances of moving on to the next round.

  “Well then,” Katherine stated, turning to them both. “I dinnae know who she is, but she’s impressive, that is for certain. Maybe ’tis time for a lass tae show the rest of those Scots wot we can do.”

  “Careful, love,” Cameron told his wife as she was handed the flag for the second round. “We have our own warriors in these games.”

  Katherine gave him a shrug before turning her attention back to her duties. Will didn’t stick around to hear Cameron’s retort, leaving the dais. And before he knew it, he was walking over to Breta. She was still being congratulated by some of those she had bested, and though he couldn’t see her face, the way she was holding herself told him that she was mighty proud of herself.

  “Congrats, Scot,” he told her. “Ye bested them all.”

  “Aye,” she said in her raspy voice, leaning on the bow that was balanced on the ground before her. “It was slight of build that helped.”

  Will let out a laugh. Slight of build wasn’t the only thing that helped her.

  “Where did ye learn tae shoot like that?”

  She placed the bow back on the table. “A Scot never divulges his secrets.”