Page 14 of Confessions of a Highland Assassin

“I was thinking the same thing. I kept checking the knot tae see if it wasnae coming loose, but it remained fast sure enough,” Rory agreed. “This next bit o’ news might nae be as welcome tae ye… but the plans for yer upcoming ball are well underway back at the castle.”

Boyd swore under his breath once again and shook his head. The ball was the last thing he wanted to think about. It was bad enough that he had to agree to finding a new wife in the first place.

“Aye, I thought ye might react that way. All the letters have been sent tae the lairds, pending their responses. If I understand things correctly, the ball will be held in about a week. The lasses will stay at the castle with their fathers until ye make yer choice.”

“And how did ye find out all this information? Ye are worse than the talking maids,” Boyd wondered in annoyance.

“The cart driver brought the news with him,” Rory looked almost sheepish as he admitted to his part. “I had naething else tae dae once I saw that ye were all right, it’s quite a journey tae the castle.”

“Why did ye nae speak tae the other men instead?”

“Everyone is unconscious or in tae much pain tae speak,” he jerked his head to the back of the cart. “Then there’s those two, but I may as well have talked tae the horses instead.”

Boyd watched Angus and Ewan chattering away as the world bounced by outside of the cart. “Aye, I dinnae blame ye for talking tae the driver,” he laughed before wincing again and pulling himself up.

Angus and Ewan were fiercely loyal, making them great soldiers. But they both lacked the kind of thinking capacity required to hold a decent conversation. Unless said conversation revolved around bedding lasses and types of ale. Boyd watched as they laughed and joked, shoving each other as the cart rolled on.

“The healer will be waiting for us as soon as we arrive. She will give ye something for the pain,” Rory looked away from the comical duo and straight into Boyd’s wound.

“Ye say that we won the battle?” Boyd looked for a distraction from his pain. Even the trauma of the fight was preferable to his pain at that moment.

“Aye, gave those bloody red coats a good thrashing. They eventually retreated.”

“Nae ‘afore they gave me a lovely wound it would seem,” he grimaced as he tried to move his shoulder.

Rory grew angry and clenched his jaw. “That was a lousy attack from a coward. Ye dinnae remember much, dae ye?”

“I’m afraid things became a little hazy after the start,” Boyd confessed.

“That will be from all of the blood that ye lost,” Rory gripped the side of the cart as the wheel hit a large stone in the road, knocking the men about. “The red coats had just begun tae retreat when we were making our way back tae the camp. A red coat bastard came out of naewhere and slashed at yer side. Ye went down like a ton of bricks in the mud.”

“I hope ye got the coward,” Boyd spat angrily. Honorable men didn’t attack from the side, at least not in his books.

Rory nodded. “Took him down just seconds after with my own blade.”

“Thank ye, it’s nae the first time that I owe ye my life.” Rory had been his best friend since they were children. He’d always been there to pull Boyd out of a mess or even take the fall whenever he got into trouble. This was something that hadn’t changed over the years—even as adults they were thicker than thieves. There was no other man alive that Boyd Cameron would trust with his life.

“Dinnae even mention it, I just avenged ye. It was that young healer that needs yer thanks. I dinnae think ye would have made it if we hadnae stumbled across her cabin in the woods. She stopped yer bleeding quicker than I ever thought possible.”

Boyd fiddled with the node in the bandage as he stared at the passing scenery. He had honestly thought she was an angel. It must have been due to the amount of blood he had lost because Rory had said that her hair had been tied back. He could have sworn that thick black tendrils were framing her face.

In his vision, she was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. He felt a pang of guilt when he suddenly remembered his betrothed. He had always thought that Cora was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Am I betraying her memory by thinking of another woman? Boyd felt the blood drain from his face as a cold shock ran through his body.

“Boyd!?” Rory panicked and gently lowered him onto the hay so that he was lying flat. “What happened? Are ye in more pain? Ye suddenly lost all yer color. Are ye bleeding again?” his questions frantically fired as Rory checked the bandage.

“I’m fine,” Boy said quietly, feeling tired from the shock. “I think I just got up tae quickly.” Boyd had suddenly realized that he’d thought about Cora’s memory as if he’d accepted she was gone and never coming back. At what point had he become more comfortable with the loss and start thinking of her as dead? Was it the trauma of the battle and all the blood he had lost? The upcoming ball, or even the beautiful healer that had somehow managed to infiltrate his dreams?

Boyd stared up at the black clouds lingering ominously above the cart as his body was gently tossed about. He blinked a few times as tiny drops of rain fell onto his hot skin.

Cora… Was the last name he remembered as he shut his eyes against the rain, welcoming the dark void of sleep.

* * *

Boyd sat up in the cart as the darkness around him closed in, crushing his chest with a vice-like grip.

“Boyd, quickly, he’s coming!” Cora whispered frantically beside him, shaking his injured arm. Her voice was cold and muffled as though she were underwater.

“Who is coming? When did ye get back?” he placed his hand on her cheek but withdrew quickly with guilt. Her skin was as cold as ice. He couldn’t bear to touch her.