Page 13 of Confessions of a Highland Assassin

Boyd looked down to see that his wound had completely disappeared. The skin was smooth and untouched as if it had never been there in the first place. “How did ye dae that?” he asked the angel as she bent down and placed a delicate finger on his lips.

“Shh...” she whispered. “Everything is going tae be all right now. I am here.”

The scent of lavender took over his senses. Her long dark hair floated about her head against the blinding light emanating from an unknown source.

Boyd slowly reached up and stroked the delicate curve of her chin with the back of his hand. Her peach-like skin was softer than anything he’d ever felt, velvety smooth with a warm pink glow. Her hand came up and cupped his own in a warm embrace that sent a healing wave through his arm, penetrating his whole body, chasing his worries and pain away.

Moving his hand to her cheek, he gently drew her beautiful lips toward his face. The fullness of her curves made him want to kiss her deeply for as long as he could. Every fiber of his being wanted more of the peace that flowed from her presence. Boyd could feel the heat of her lips inches away from his as he leaned in. He was suddenly yanked away from her. Frowning, he reached up again, but his arm was yanked back down by an unseen force.

Boyd’s body jolted with pain as he opened his eyes. The beautiful angel was gone, replaced by a dim grey sky filled with ominous clouds.

The world rattled around him as the sound of hooves and wheels hit the road, jostling him back to reality. He knew he wasn’t heaven due to the unbearable pain in his side whenever he tried to move. Heaven could not be that vile.

“Easy there…” a familiar voice called as Boyd stared at the dark clouds building overhead. “Ye took quite a hit, Boyd. It will take a while ‘afore ye can move that arm properly again. Best lay still for now.”

Boyd recognized Rory. He tried to move his arm but felt a vice-like pressure keeping it in place.

“We had the good fortune of finding a healer in the middle of the forest after the battle. Good thing tae, ye had lost quite a bit of blood. Thought we were going tae lose ye there for a bit… Yer arm is nae broken,” Rory continued when Boyd tried to move his arm again. “The healer tied it good and fast tae yer side so that it would nae move.”

Boyd reached up with his good arm and felt the tight knot just below his clavicle. The dream was beginning to fade into a fog as reality crept in. Visions of the recent battle flooded his mind. Or the start of the battle, at least. Boyd couldn’t quite remember how everything had ended.

“She did a right job too. I was impressed, she kens what she was doing,” Rory continued talking as Boyd struggled to search his thoughts for more sense.

Boyd pushed himself up from the bed of hay that someone from the castle had fortunately thought to line the cart with. Still half groggy, he looked around the cart at the men who were bumping along beside them. They didn't seem to have lost any of the men in his platoon. He couldn't, however, speak for the rest of his clansmen. The people in the cart were bloodied and beaten, indicating that they had suffered a few losses.

“Here, take a wee dram, it will help with the pain,” Rory drew his attention back to the side and handed Boyd a small silver flask. The steel felt cool against his hot skin.

He ran his tongue over his cracked lips and realized just how thirsty he was. Taking the flask and tipping it into his mouth, Boyd let the sweet ale gush down his throat and quench his thirst. The coolness soothed some of the dryness that itched his mouth.

It didn’t seem as though Rory had taken too much damage during the battle. He wasn’t wearing any bandages. But there was a long cut across his cheek with dry blood lining the wound.

“We won the battle,” Rory said when he noticed that Boyd was a little more awake. “Our clan suffered the least casualties, thank God. But we did lose a few.”

“What are ye nae telling me?” Boyd asked gruffly when he saw that his friend was hesitating. The jostling of the cart began to rub his arm against the wound in his side.

“We lost John Graham.”

Boyd swore under his breath and winced from moving too quickly.

“Aye, it’s a terrible loss. But he fought bravely alongside the men.”

Boyd stared at his torn and bloodied shirt for a moment before lifting his flask into the air. “He was a brave soldier and gave his life for Scotland. Tae Johan Graham.”

The conscious men around him lifted their flasks. “Viscount Dundee,” they chanted in unison before swigging the ale.

“Aye, it was a great loss,” Rory agreed solemnly, “and I am afraid it willnae be the last until Bonnie Prince Charlie sits on the throne. There will be many more battles like this in the future. Hopefully, we will win those tae. The men who gave their lives today did so for a righteous cause.”

Rory reached into a sack beside him on the cart and pulled out a second flask.

“How long have I been asleep?” Boyd asked, turning the conversation away from the battle for he felt his eyes burn after the news for Viscount Dundee’s death. It was a difficult loss to accept.

“About three hours. We will reach the castle by nightfall,” Rory answered as he drunk most of the ale that filled the second flask.

“I had the strangest dream,” Boyd relaxed against the hay, making himself a bit more comfortable. “I thought I was in heaven with an angel taking care o’ me. She had the most beautiful porcelain skin, straight black hair, and grey eyes. I wanted tae reach out and touch her. But someone kept pulling on my arm,” he said dreamily with a faraway look in his eyes.

Rory laughed at his friend and took another sip as the cart bumped over a few holes in the road. “Aye, she was pretty,” he chuckled. “But she was nae an angel by a long shot. It was the healer that saw tae the men and tended yer injury. She looked more like an old governess tae me rather than an angel. She did have a nice figure, I will give ye that. I think the blood loss was making ye see things that werenae real.”

Boyd reached up and examined the knot on his bandage. He used force to tug at it a few times, but the knot remained in place, resembling a rose with linen petals. “I wonder if we could find the lass again; she could show our healer how tae tie this knot,” he said, rather impressed with her skill.