animals. She loves writing, loves traveling and enjoys incorporating tidbits of her actual vacations into her books. She is an avid Anglophile, loving all things British, but specifically all things Regency.
Growing up in Tennessee, spending as much time as possible with her doting grandparents, soap operas were a part of her daily existence, followed by back to back episodes of Scooby Doo. Her path to becoming a romance novelist was set when, rather than simply have her Barbie dolls cruise around in a pink convertible, they time traveled, hosted lavish dinner parties and one even had an evil twin locked in the attic.
Website: www.chasitybowlin.com
The Haunted Scot
Hildie McQueen
Chapter One
Naill Hay’s boots crunched on the frozen snow atop the wall as he walked to where a group of archers gathered around a blazing fire. Frigid air blew, penetrating his heavy cloak and chilling his skin, so he hurried closer to the fire.
Holding out his stiff hands to the flames, in an effort to warm them, he let out a visible breath that vanished only to be replaced by another.
Admittedly, there were many places he’d rather be at the moment than guarding the desolate northern border of Clan Ross’ lands. For a sparse second, he considered his home, but then realized he had little desire to be there. In the last months, he’d spent more time at Ross Keep than with his family, as his duties were many, and to be away often meant more to deal with upon returning.
“Naill, do ye know who will replace us?” a young archer named Bruce asked. “Tis almost Yule and I would like to spend it with my family.”
Naill shrugged. “Mayhap they will wait until after the celebrating to come, as they probably wish the same.”
“There is little need for us to guard the northern border,” Bruce complained, seeming to have appointed himself spokesman for the trio of men. “No one dares to travel and attempt to trespass in this weather. They would freeze to death without shelter.”
“Admit it, Bruce,” another of the trio said. “Ye are wanting more to be between a woman’s thighs than with yer family.”
“And what is wrong with that?” Bruce rebutted. “A warm bed, a willing woman and some good whisky are never a bad thing.”
“There are women who are more bitter than the first bite of a drink,” another said, to which they all laughed except for Naill. He knew firsthand what an unpleasant woman did to a man’s life.
He looked away and to the snow-covered forest. White as far as the eye could see, not one breathing creature in sight. Although Clan Ross was huge and powerful with many warriors, it did not mean they could relax and allow encroachment of their borders by renegade clans from the north. Not only did Scottish clans pose a threat, but the Norse were forever pushing the boundaries to see how far into Ross lands they could go.
In the distance, a rider appeared. Following him, another four came into view.
“Riders!” Naill called out to the others who hurried over, bows at the ready. It never ceased to surprise him how quickly men could go from a joking conversation to warriors with faces of stone.
“Wait to see if they identify themselves,” he instructed to the two who remained. Bruce had rushed down to warn the others of the riders’ approach.
The first rider motioned, waving both arms over his head and, as they watched, the other four joined him. Then they lifted a banner. On a green background were three red lions. The Ross insignia.
“Our relief is here,” one of the archers said laughing. “Looks like Bruce will get his wish as to where he will spend the Yuletide.”
The front gates to the small guard keep were opened and the warriors filed in, in flanks of two. All together there were forty.
Naill greeted the head archer that would take his place. The man towered over him. Often, he wondered why the man was an archer as he seemed better suited for hand-to-hand combat. He’d received the answer when competing against him and losing for the first time in his life to an opponent within the clan. The man had keen eyesight and a very steady hold on his bow.
“I bet ye are anxious to return home. I saw yer son, he is most excited to show ye how much he’s improved with the bow and arrow.”
It occurred to Naill that he wasn’t sure he liked someone knowing more about his son than he did.