Page 20 of Confessions of a Highland Assassin

“Pleased tae meet ye, Rhona,” he said while reaching for his satchel. “I must really get going, Skye. Ye can catch up with yer friend,” he placed the strap back over his shoulder. “I will come and see ye again.”

“I actually cannae stay here, Skye. I had a problem with the lass behind the bar the last time,” Ava attempted to rectify the situation and stood. “She caught me speaking with her husband,” she whispered before continuing out loud. “I didnae mean tae interrupt yer meeting with yer handsome friend here,” she adapted one of Skye’s tactics.

Bram looked more pleased than he probably ever had in his life.

“I just had an idea,” Skye interjected. “Dae ye still stay in the woods?”

“Aye,” Ava smiled. “In that cozy little cabin ye loved so much,” she knew exactly what Skye was thinking. “Would ye and yer friend like to join me there for a dram? I must run a fast errand. But if ye both want, ye can head up there and I’ll come a half an hour later.”

“That would be lovely!” she uttered and gripped Bram’s arm. “Fancy that Bram, such a polite invitation for us both.”

“I dinnae think…” he started to decline.

“Aye, that is great! All right, I’m leaving because I cannae stand that lass throwing daggers at me. Ye’ll meet me there, right?”

Bram breathed a little deeper when Skye pushed her hip into his side.

“Ye dinnae mind if we wait for her at the cabin? Dae ye, Bram…” she leaned in even closer and emphasized her words. “We could… catch up… while she’s away.”

“Aye, that would be nice,” Bram said with a broad smile, his important deliveries all but forgotten.

* * *

Ava waited outside the cottage for a few minutes once she had said her goodbyes to the happy couple. She marveled at the way Skye could captivate a man, getting him to act on her every whim. She had flirted with Bram all the way to their cottage and he, in return, had been completely spellbound by the time Ava said she was leaving. Listening intently to hear the familiar click of Skye’s bedroom door, she quietly snuck back into the cabin and scanned the room. Just as she had thought, Skye had taken off his shirt in the kitchen and left it just outside her bedroom door with his satchel underneath.

A genuine smile spread across Ava’s face. Together, she and Skye made an unstoppable force that functioned like a well-oiled machine. They could have entire conversations with a simple look, and nobody would ever be any the wiser.

Tiptoeing to the door, Ava picked up the satchel and pulled out the stack of letters that were tied together with brown twine. There seemed to be quite a few eager young lasses that wished to become the next Lady Cameron. She undid the knot and quickly flipped through the letters, looking at names scrawled across the cream envelopes until she came across the only seal of an ewe bowing with one leg.

Rose Sinclair… She recalled Bram saying the family name and was relieved to have found the right one based on the description and stamp. The name has a nice ring tae it. Hopefully, the laird would think so tae.

After surveying the slanted letters for a second, Ava slipped the paper into her coat pocket before retying the knot and placing the satchel back on the ground with the stack of letters inside. She bundled the shirt back on top, just as she found it. Bram was probably too preoccupied to have noticed the position of his shirt, but one could never be too careful. The devil was in the details when it came to a successful mission, or letter napping, as it were.

Her heart stopped when a sudden crash came from the room. Frozen in fear with her hand on the satchel she stood waiting. Her heart pounded in her chest. How would she explain her current position outside the bedroom door while Skye was getting ‘reacquainted’ with her old friend? Would he believe that she was just picking up after them? Her mind raced for possible explanations and solutions where she wouldn’t have to take his life.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Skye giggling and shifting on the bed. They must have knocked something over by accident. Ava shook her head and removed her hand from the satchel before silently making her way outside again, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Leaning against the cabin wall with the door shut tight, she breathed and waited for her heart rate to return to normal. There was always a moment of panic when she was about to be caught. That moment when your life flashes before your eyes and you scrutinize your choices. After a breath of fresh air, Ava couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment with the letter now safely tucked into her coat pocket. Since neither she nor Skye could write, she decided to take the letter to the tavern where Sophie and her parents liked to eat. There was a small chance that she could catch Sophie on her own and ask her to write the letter on her behalf.

Sophie had a kind heart and would help them with whatever they needed. Ava was certain of it if she explained how dire the situation was, perhaps omitting the murderous details. But Sophie would help. After all, she was present when Neil was taken.

Only Sophie's parents had a problem with Ava and her family. But Sophie was a great help and a dear friend. She’s stuck around through everything and never turned her back.

Even though she still had to kill an innocent man to save her brother, things were starting to look up. Ava paused for a moment before noticing the dark clouds gathering beyond the trees. A foreboding reminder that nothing in life is certain. No matter how promising the outlook appeared, there was always a storm brewing on the horizon.

CHAPTER NINE

Boyd sat at the large desk in his father’s study. It had been a year since the incident with Cora and yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to call this study his own. Boyd was, in every sense of the word, Laird of the Cameron clan. But it still felt too unsettling to claim his possessions. In his mind, the rows of leather-bound ledgers and worn historical books all belonged to his father.

“We didnae suffer too many losses at the battle,” Hamish broke into his thoughts. “But the men we lost were good men and great warriors. We need tae rethink our strategies, milaird. Losing men in an outside war when there’s an active clan war on our doorstep, is too dangerous.”

“All men that fight in battle are good men, Hamish,” Boyd squeezed the crumpled-up paper in his fist. “It disnae matter if they are soldiers or page boys, a loss is devastating tae the clan and their families in every case.”

“Ye ken that was nae what I meant…” Hamish said quietly. “We need tae think of the war on our own doorstep, as noble as the Jacobite cause may be. We have problems closer tae home. Ye nearly lost yer own life, and then what would we have done? With nae an heir tae tak’ over. The clan would be in disarray…”

Moving his arm away from his ribs, Boyd felt the numb sting from his wound that wasn’t quite healed—a constant reminder that he wasn’t invincible. Real causes meant real battles. And real battles meant high stakes.

“I have agreed tae yer ball where I will choose a wife, Hamish,” Boyd snapped as the pain shot through his muscles. “I cannae magic an heir for ye out of thin air. I first need a wife. And these matters tak’ time whether ye like it or not. The council will at least have tae be patient until then.”