“She cannae die,” Will said to no one in particular. “She has tae live.”
Katherine came to stand beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist as they all watched the healer work on Breta, the sodden cloths growing in the basin at her side. “Come away, Will. We have tae find her da.”
He didn’t want to leave her. What if this was the last time he saw her? What if he had been too late? “I dinnae understand,” he choked out. “I dinnae understand why she gave her life for mine.” He had pushed her away, told her repeatedly that he couldn’t be with her, yet she had done the unimaginable tonight and saved him from certain death.
She had told him she hated him, and she had still done this.
Untangling himself from Katherine’s grip, he strode away, out of the keep and through a guarded side door until he was outside the courtyard, away from the rest.
He could see the fighting in the distance, hear the screams and cries of those still battling their attackers.
But he couldn’t go up there. He couldn’t force his feet to move any further, knowing that there was a lass—a strong lass—fighting for her life because of him.
Will fell to his knees in the grass as the first tear slid down his cheek.
A hand landed on his shoulder, but Will ignored it, fisting his hands in the grass.
“Leave me.”
“Nay,” Cameron stated, falling into the grass with him. “She’s strong, Will.”
He looked at the man he favored above all others, seeing the fear in his eyes. “She could die because of me. Me! I’m nothing, no one tae her. I told her...I told her that I didnae care about her!”
Cameron squeezed his shoulder. “She knows ye didnae mean it or else she wouldnae have given her life for yers. We all say things we dinnae mean. Ye love the lass.”
Will just shook his head, turning his gaze back to the battle that raged on. If she died, none of this mattered. He needed to find her father, to bring him to her daughter’s side. She needed her family.
She didn’t need him.
Pushing himself out of the dirt, he tucked his emotions back into his chest for later. “I will go find her da,” he stated, realizing he had left his sword buried in the man that had attacked him.
“Let someone else go,” Cameron said. “Ye are in no shape.”
Will rounded on him, not caring if he was his ruler. “Nay, I will go. I just need a sword.”
Cameron’s jaw clenched and finally, he gave him a tight nod, unsheathing his own sword. “Then take this and get a horse. It will be faster.”
By the time Will found Laird McLeish and they rode hard to the keep, the sun was starting to dawn. The additional warriors from the village had helped drive out the rest of the attackers, and now clans were wandering aimlessly through what was left of the camp, looking for their lost and fallen men.
Will had passed a few that he knew were his warriors, including the three young ones he had recruited weeks ago amongst the dead. While he wanted to give them a proper send-off, it would have to wait.
First, he had to get the laird to the keep.
“Wot happened?” the laird was asking as he clung to Will.
Will swallowed hard. “She saved mah life.”
“And why the bloody hell would she do that?”
He could hear the anger in the laird’s voice, and rightfully so. Breta should have never been in the camp.
“Because,” he said thickly, “she fancies herself in love with me.”
The laird sucked in a breath, but before he could say anything else, they were arriving at the keep. Breta’s father looked like a broken man as he slid off the horse and walked away without another word to Will, but Will knew it wasn’t the end of their discussion.
If Breta died, Will wanted the laird’s wrath. He wanted him to run a sword through him. It would be the only way he would escape the pain of what he had done to Breta.
Will followed behind the laird into the keep, where they were met by Garia.
“Da,” she breathed as he gathered her up in his arms. “Oh, Da!”
“Where is she?” Laid McLeish asked, his voice laced with pain.
“We moved her tae one of the chambers,” Garia replied, pulling back. “She’s suffered a wound tae her stomach, but the blood loss is alarming tae the healer. She says that it is up tae Breta now.”
Will closed his eyes briefly, sending a prayer of thanksgiving that she had survived this long. Breta wasn’t one to give up, and he knew that she would fight for her family.
“I need tae see her,” the laird said to his eldest, sliding a glance over to Will. “And if I am reading ye right, McDougal, ye need tae do the same.”
“Aye,” Will answered. He needed to see her just once, to know that she was alive.
The laird blew out a breath, the weariness of the night’s events etched in his expression. It was likely in all their expressions. How could something so carefully planned go so wrong? Will had ensured everyone’s safety, yet he had Scots that were dead because of him.
Katherine and Cameron were never going to forgive him for this.
“Come, then. Let’s see her.”
Will’s head snapped up and he looked at the laird. “Wot?”
“Ye want tae see her,” the laird stated, his jaw clenched. “I dinnae know wot is going on between ye and mah daughter, but if she gave her life for yers, then something greater is at play here.”
He turned away and Will swallowed hard, following the duo up the stairs to the second landing, where a group was gathered outside one of the chambers reserved for guests and also not far from his own.
Trevor was slumped outside the door, straightening as he saw them coming. “The healer just left. She’s resting now.”
“I will wait,” Will said, wanting to give the family some privacy. He really wanted to put his fist in the stone wall but decided against it. He might need his hand to defend the keep.
“Here,” Trevor said, thrusting a flask at Will. “Ye look like ye could use this.”
Will took the flask and let the fiery whiskey slide down his throat, welcoming the pain. It was nothing like what Breta had gone through, and if he could, he would have taken the pain from her in an instant.
“She’s strong,” Trevor continued as Will handed the flask back to him. “And hardheaded. She will fight through this.”
“I told her I didnae care,” Will blurted out, slumping against the stone. “I told her I cannae love her.”
Trevor smirked. “Then she will fight back just tae kick yer arse.”
Will couldn’t drum up a smile himself, worry settling in. If she did make it, what was he going to say to her? How was he going to fix this?
It was clear to him that Breta being with him was dangerous to her. He couldn’t be with her knowing that he could cause her pain like this. She deserved a keep, a family, a Scot that could give her all that she wished for.
That Scot wasn’t him.
It would never be him.
19
Breta winced as she shifted in the bed, throwing back some of the furs that were trapping her. The heat was stifling in the room, and she longed to walk over to the window to let some cold air in.
She couldn’t, however, get herself out of the bed. She felt as weak as a newborn babe right now; the blood loss she had suffered was going to take some time to replenish itself.
But she was alive and apparently so was Will.
He hadn’t come to visit her since she had wakened three days after the attack, hungry and in sore need of a bath. Her family had fussed over her, watching her every movement until she had shooed them all off to get their own rest, seeing the exhaustion on their faces. She had never been one to stay abed before, and though Breta knew that she needed to, she longed to leave it.
Sighing, Breta looked around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. Though no one wanted to tell her, she had finally gotten out of her sister the weight of the casualties from her father�
�s warriors. They had lost nearly half of their warriors in the attack, though their clan had fared better than some. Garia had explained how the clans had claimed their dead, no one certain as to who had set off the fires and attacks. Each clan was blaming the other and the lairds were now distrusting of those that they had formed fragile alliances with.
It seemed there would be no peace in Scotland for a long while.
The door suddenly opened and her father strode through, his face wreathed with worry. “How are ye, Daughter?”
“I’m fine, Da,” she said, crossing her hands over the top of her fur. He fell into the chair beside the bed; she wished she could trade positions with him. He looked as if he needed to sleep for a week. “Wot is going on?”
He let out a breath. “The lairds are in an uproar. The clans want blood, but no one knows who tae blame, so everyone is blaming each other. It seems the measures of peace no longer exist, and we must prepare for battle.”
“I’m vera sorry,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his hand.
He gave her a small smile. “’Tis not yer fault, Breta. It was just a dream for us that we could live in peace for the rest of our days. We must go home and prepare. Do ye think ye can travel in two days?”
“Aye,” Breta said softly. The pain wasn’t as great as it had been, and as long as she took the herbs the healer was putting in her tea, she should be able to withstand the journey. “Is it safe?”
“As safe as it is staying here,” he stated. “I cannae leave yer ma any longer. I’ve already sent some of the warriors back tae protect them until I can return. We...our losses were great.”
Breta felt the prick of tears. She didn’t know who had survived or who was gone forever. “We should have never come.”
“Nay I’m glad we came. It was a chance we took, and our warriors died doing wot they were born tae do.” He then arched a brow. “Though we need tae discuss how ye learned tae wield a dagger like that.”
She flushed, picking at the fur with her fingers. “Ye know I was never one tae sit still.”
He chuckled. “Nay, and ye still aren’t. I’m sorry that ye had tae kill, Breta. ’Tis not a thing that anyone enjoys doing, taking the life of another, no matter wot they did tae ye.”
He was right in that regard. She still saw the faces of those she had killed in an attempt to save her life, and their deaths didn’t bring her any sort of comfort. They brought nothing but sadness to her.
“I wilnae be a warrior.”
“That’s good tae know,” the laird responded as he pushed himself out of the chair and leaned down, brushing his lips over her forehead. “Rest, Breta. Regain yer strength. We will get past this.”
She nodded and he quit the room, leaving her to her silence once more. She was going home. She would see her mother and Ferra, be in her own chamber and on the lands that she had grown up on.
So why did she feel a heavy sense of loss by it? It was because of her newfound love for a warrior that didn’t want her. He wanted nothing to do with her.
She regretted the words that were exchanged between them right before the attack, how she told him that she hated him.
Breta didn’t hate Will. She hated the fact that he thought he couldn’t be a warrior and love her as well. He thought she would make him weak, whereas if he just looked at her for a minute longer, he would see that she could only make him stronger.
And now she would be leaving behind the man she had saved.
None of it made any sense to Breta, but what could she do? She couldn’t force him to love her. She couldn’t stay behind and watch him ignore her at every turn, feel her heart shatter every time he rode off to battle and didn’t say goodbye to her.
She couldn’t be the woman who watched the man she could never have, a man who held her heart in his hands and didn’t know what to do with it.
She couldn’t be that person. So perhaps it was for the best that she was returning home.
As if she had conjured him up, the door opened and Will strode in, his jaw clenched. “Will,” she breathed as he came to the side of the bed. “Wot are ye doing here?”
“I had tae beg an audience from yer sister,” he told her, easing into the chair. “She’s keeping yer door heavily guarded.”
Breta allowed her eyes to wander over his familiar face. He looked like the rest, defeated and mourning the loss of those that had lost their lives on the battlefield.
“How are ye?” she asked anyway.
“I’m fine,” he bit out, his own eyes roving over her. Her entire body heated under the furs, knowing full well he couldn’t see through them. “How are ye faring?”
“I’m fine,” she responded, glad that Garia had plaited her hair so that it wouldn’t look like birds had nested in it. “There’s hardly any pain.”
Will’s expression looked stricken s he ran a hand over his haggard face. “I’m vera sorry ye were injured,” he started out, his voice soft and his gaze on the wall next to the bed and not on her. “Never in mah days had I thought ye would be injured like that.”
“He was going tae kill ye,” she whispered, remembering the flash of the dagger. “Ye would have died.”
“So would ye!” he said harshly, his voice ringing out in the silent chamber. “Did ye think aboot yer life too, Breta? It would have gutted me tae see ye perish.”
“At the time, ye were all I was thinking aboot,” she said quietly, keeping her anger at bay. He could be infuriating at times, and this was one of those times. “I love ye, Will. I would do it again without hesitation.”
“Nay,” he said, his expression closed off as he pushed out of the chair. “Nay, lass. Ye cannae love me.”
“I dinnae care that ye are a warrior,” she continued, not giving up. “I dinnae care if ye love yer battles or ye sword more than ye will ever love me but give me a chance tae love ye.” That was all she wanted: just a chance. If Will would accept her as his wife, she could show him how to love.
Will looked at her, and she could see the indecision in his eyes. “I dinnae deserve ye,” he said quietly, reaching out to grasp her hand. “I dinnae deserve yer love, nor do I deserve the happiness that ye might bring.” His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand, each stroke like a stroke on the walls of her heart. “I dinnae love ye, lass. I’m vera sorry.”
He was lying. She could feel it in his voice, see it in the way he was looking at her. “Why are ye lying tae me?” she asked, hurt lacing her voice. “Wot is so wrong that ye cannae admit the fact that ye love me? Wot are ye scared of?”
“Losing ye!” he shouted, pulling his hand back. “I’m bloody scared of losing ye!”
She stared at him, shocked by his outburst. Will sighed and thrust his hand through his hair roughly. “I have tae go,” he stated firmly, clearly done with the conversation.
Breta waited until he was nearly to the door before she said, “I’m leaving in two days.” She watched as his shoulders stiffened. “I am leaving, Will, and if ye let me leave this keep, these lands, I wilnae come back. Ye understand? Even if ye come after me later, I wilnae see ye.” She couldn’t let him pull at her like this, and if he couldn’t tell her before she left, then it was going to be his regret that would keep him warm at night, for she would move on with her life. No matter how much she loved him or the feelings he might have for her, he had to readily admit that he wanted to give her a chance, or they would be doomed from the start.
“Do ye understand?” she repeated.
“Aye, lass. I understand,” he said, not looking at her.
Breta waited until the door shut softly before a sob ripped through her, pressing her fist to her mouth to keep from sobbing aloud and alarming her sister. She had tried to do everything to make Will see that they were meant to be, but he wasn’t willing to meet her at least halfway.
When her sister entered the room, Breta allowed her to take her into her arms. “He’s stubborn,” Garia stated as she smoothed Breta’s hair with her hand. “The warriors, t
hey are all the same.”
“I want tae stab him,” Breta muttered as she lay against Garia’s chest, her sobs easing.
Garia chuckled. “I’ve said that a time or two about Trevor as well. Mind ye, I have never done it because he always comes around. And Will is going tae as well. Go on with yer plans tae travel home. I imagine he wilnae let ye get out of the village.”
Breta pulled away from her sister. “But wot do I do if he does?”
Garia sighed. “Then Trevor will run him through with his sword.” At Breta’s horrified expression, she laughed. “Nay, we wilnae hurt him! But if he does let ye go, then he’s a fool and he didnae deserve ye in the first place. I know ye love him, and I suspect he loves ye as well. Ye didnae see his face that night, dear sister. He just has tae figure out that he cannae live without ye.”
Breta nodded and her sister rose from the bed. “Now, let’s get ye moving a bit or that journey home will be a struggle.”
Breta threw back the furs, touching her feet to the cold floor. She hoped she wouldn’t be making that journey, but given what just happened, she wasn’t sure that Will would be coming to her rescue.
20
Two days later...
Will clasped his hands before him and stood before his laird, his shoulders tense. He had waited for them to call upon him about the attack and just this morning, he received word that they were ready to discuss what happened.
They were in the great hall, with the fire burning cheerily behind them, and the hall now back to rights as most of the injured had moved on. Still, there was a sadness that hung over the clan as the families started to bury their dead. Will had attended five burials over the last few days, two of which were the young recruits that had showed so much promise. Their deaths would be forever etched on his conscience. When he had laid their swords on the coffins, he had sworn to them that their deaths would not go unpunished.
Highlander’s Phantom Lass: A Steamy Scottish Medieval Historical Romance Page 12