Page 10 of Confessions of a Highland Assassin

“I ken that that could nae have been easy for ye. I’ve kent ye since ye were a lad and ken when ye put the well-being o’ others above yer own,” he panted slightly as stopped just a few steps away from Boyd. “Yer father was nae good at that. He was a good laird, but he lacked the self-sacrifice that ye so readily display.”

Boyd could feel the vein in his neck beginning to throb from annoyance. His father was a harsh laird and an even harsher father. Yet he was fair to the people that served him and never let them down.

There had been a rumor shortly after his disappearance that members of the council had been glad that Boyd was taking over. There were even more rumors before that stating there was something amiss between his parents, but Boyd could not recall them ever fighting.

They loved each other as a man and wife should. Perhaps his mother was a little subservient, but that was just part of her character. She did as she was told and never fought back. His father had insisted on him spending as much time as possible training to be a warrior, so he had never had the opportunity to get to know his mother on a deeper level.

“I just wanted tae say that I am proud o’ ye for making the right decision, my boy.”

Boyd was about to relax and thank him when Hamish continued.

“So, it pains me tae have tae say this as well,” he searched Boyd’s face. “The men ye have allocated tae search for Cora and her family, as well as yer father, are needed right now. Ye need tae call off the search so that we can put them tae better use. They are chasing ghosts, milaird. If that is nae too harsh tae say.”

Boyd took a deep breath and stared at the man that had given his family wise council for the past few decades. The wound on his leg that caused his limp had been acquired because of a battle decision his father had made. A crucial decision that Hamish had opposed from the start.

Boyd let his eyes fall to the cane that carried the man’s weight. He may be a meddlesome old goat, but his mind was sharper than a double-edged sword. As much as Boyd needed to hold onto hope, he knew that calling off the search was the right thing to do, even before Hamish spoke of the subject. He was just not ready to do it.

“Send the word for the men tae return at once, Rory can put them tae better use once they arrive.”

“Thank ye, milaird,” Hamish called after him as he turned and made his way down the hall.

Boyd Cameron anticipated another restless night, thinking about the woman he loved. Or had once loved… he corrected himself as he made his way to his room down the winding halls of his ancestral home. Perhaps everyone around him was right and it was time to give up hope.

After all, his father had been a formidable and feared highlander. If there was any hope of them escaping whatever fate they had met, his father would have brought them back by now. Boyd felt his heart clench as he spotted the foreboding full moon through an open window in the hall—he needed to readjust his thinking and begin the search for a new wife.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ava pulled her dark hair back and fastened the shiny strands into a tight bun behind her head. Ignoring the knock at her door, she smoothed out her dark green dress and straightened her boots. Whoever was looking for her would have to come back later. She had to focus on this other self of hers, and distance herself from her feelings.

Examining her reflection one last time, Ava pulled her cloak over her dress. The dark cloak she always wore on her missions was bulky enough to hide her figure, but light enough for her to move with ease. She could easily have been mistaken for an entirely different person, a man even. The black leather boots also had the advantage of adding an inch or two of height.

Skye had already left and was waiting for her at the place where Ava was to carry out a smaller mission. One that was a good distraction from the impending doom she felt when she thought about hurting the laird who was a good man. One of the local lads had murdered his friend. And the deceased’s family was now seeking justice.

Ava frowned as the knocking grew more frantic by the second. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she swore under her breath. Who could possibly need me in such a hurry? Shutting her bedroom door behind her, she made her way across the kitchen and peered through the window.

The opening in front of her cabin was littered with twelve injured men that looked as if they had just come from battle. Their clothes were torn and bloodied while their legs were caked in mud up to their knees.

“Please, help!” one of the men cried while pounding on her door.

Yanking the door open, Ava hurried out. “What happened?”

“There was a battle,” the tall man with dark hair and blue eyes said frantically as he attempted to stop the blood squirting from another man’s wound. He didn’t seem as if he was too badly injured, but his friend seemed to be in a rough state.

Ava scanned the men as quickly as she could, assessing their injuries with a trained eye and determining that the man on the ground was the worst and required immediate attention. “We need tae get him inside as quickly as we can,” she said as she rushed over and lifted his arm.

Blood immediately began to spurt from the man’s side once again.

Ava plugged the leak with her own hands and motioned for the other men to pick him up as she tried her best to maintain the pressure.

“Try and shift him as gently as ye can,” she ordered the men that rushed forward to help.

It took four men including Ava placing pressure on the wound to lift the man and carry him into the cottage where she instructed them to place him on her brother’s bed.

He was partially unconscious. His head of matted blond hair lulled to the side as Ava tried to reposition his body. The wounded man was far too tall for the bed. Yet, even in his bloodied and disheveled state, she could see how strikingly handsome he was.

Ava moved to his side and took care not to touch the ribs under his wound. She examined his side and determined that the blood would need to be stopped if he was going to have a chance at survival. “The wound is nae fatal, but I will have to stop the bleeding if he is tae have a fighting chance,” she informed his companion that hovered over him with a watchful eye.

“Please, dae all that ye can tae save him,” the man pleaded with her, his blue eyes filled with panic.