Page 4 of Confessions of a Highland Assassin

“Dinnae start again,” Boyd winced through gritted teeth, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead.

“Ye cannae escape women all the time, Boyd. Ye need tae bed a lass, even if it’s one of the local lasses, you neednae go all the way tae the brothel in town. One of yer own maids here at the castle will dae.”

Boyd looked up at Rory in shock. He had never before suggested such a thing. Where, for God’s sake, was that idea from? Taken by the distraction, Boyd stumbled back as his sword fell from his grasp, clattering to the courtyard's cobbled ground after slicing a neat slit in his grey breeches.

Rory swung his sword triumphantly as if he had made his point clear. “Ye may nae think that sparring is enough tae slake yer lusts, but ye are distracted, Boyd. Ye need tae dae something about that before ye get yersel’ killed in battle. Or even worse, ye could make a mistake and get yer men killed…”

Boyd relented to defeat and let himself sink to his haunches before sitting back on the ground. “I dinnae think that bedding the maids would reflect kindly on me as Laird, Rory.”

Rory took in a satisfied breath and placed his sword back at his side and looked down at the laird panting on the ground. “Then begin the search for another wife, Boyd. It’s been a year since…”

“Exactly, it’s been only a year. I dinnae want tae talk about that,” he snapped quickly. “Ye ken that very well.”

“Ye can bark at me all ye want. Ye dinnae scare me,” Rory hunkered down in front of his friend so that they were eye-to-eye. “Ye need tae hear the truth, and I dinnae mind that it needs tae come from me,” he paused before lowering his voice slightly to a more sympathetic tone. “She’s nae coming back, Boyd… We’ve looked everywhere.”

Boyd pushed himself up angrily, glaring down at Rory, who rose and stared him down, determination mingled with pity. “Dinnae say things like that, ye dinnae ken if she’s been killed,” he reached down and picked up his sword again.

Rory raised his voice more sternly, losing his patience slightly as Boyd failed to listen to reason. Again. “We have searched damn near every corner o’ Scotland. Where else dae ye want the men tae search?” He flung his arm out in a broad gesture. “Under all the heather and peat? She’s gone, Boyd. They all are. Whatever may have happened, ye cannae live yer damned life digging in the past. Ye are Laird.”

Boyd glared at his friend, panting from the exertion of picking up his sword again. The sun was still setting when they began their evening sparring match, and his energy was depleted. But the mention of his lost betrothed fueled his rage. He charged at Rory once more, letting out a fierce battle cry.

Stepping aside with ease, his friend dodged his attack, knowing full well that the Laird’s judgment was clouded. Any talk of Cora never returning was a taboo subject where Boyd Cameron was concerned. Both Rory and Boyd himself knew that very well.

Boyd landed with a thud and a clatter on the stones, his sword scraping in the dirt as it sailed away from him toward the inner walls of the castle.

“I think I have made my point,” Rory said, staring down at Boyd who had rolled onto his back, offering his hand to help him up. Boyd took it and let his friend guide him up. Deep down, he knew that the search could not go on forever. But he was unwilling to accept the fact that he would never see the woman he loved ever again.

Night after night, she haunted his thoughts and dreams. Her beautiful face kept him awake, urging him to find her. Cora. Cora Steward. She had gone missing the night before their wedding under mysterious circumstances, along with his father and the rest of her family and bridal party. Boyd thought her disappearance was the end of him—he could still feel the panic and anguish he felt when he realized they were gone.

“I dinnae say these things tae hurt ye, Boyd. I want ye tae have peace again,” Rory said as he pulled him up. “Tae much time has passed, ye need tae mourn and move on. The clan has bigger things tae worry about.”

Boyd placed his hands on his hips and examined the earnest expression on his best friend’s face as he caught his breath again, panting for air. Everything Rory said rang true. But there was no snuffing out the spark of hope he felt inside. She couldn’t just be dead. She must still be out there, somewhere, waiting for me… Killing somebody’s memory was far harder than killing an actual person.

“I ken what ye are saying, but I cannae just stop looking for her. As for yer suggestion that I bed a lass…” he looked up at the castle window where her bedroom had been on that night while feeling his emotions ebbing to dangerous places.

“I have nae been able tae look at any other lass in that light since… I cannae bring mysel’ tae…” he looked down and shook his head. “I ken that everyone thinks the marriage was planned against our will… and that since it was arranged tae remedy the bad blood between the clans, that we didnnae care for each other with genuine affection…” his voice trailed off.

“But yer attraction was real,” Rory finished his sentence for him.

“Aye, nae just the attraction. She made me laugh and filled a void in my life I never even knew existed.” Boyd looked down at his soiled breeches and the scrapes on the palms of his hands. Tiny drops of blood were beading on the cuts. “It was love at first sight for me… I cannae be sure o’ her feelings on that score. But she did express a great fondness for me as well,” a sad smile tugged at his lips.

The marriage had been arranged by the lairds and the families of the opposing clans to settle the hostility that had long plagued the families for centuries. The plan had seemed like it was going to work up until the night before the wedding, when everything had gone terribly wrong. The families had been once again at war since then. Callum Steward, Cora’s uncle, had taken over as Laird after his brother had disappeared, along with the rest of his immediate family, Cora included.

Callum maintained that the Cameron clan must have had something to do with the disappearance, since the incident had occurred in their castle whilst his family were guests. To make matters even worse, Boyd’s father had gone missing along with the rest of the party, implicating them even further.

Boyd racked his mind but had failed to come up with a plausible explanation of what could have occurred. It is impossible that an entire group of people can go missing just like that without a trace…

Grief-stricken, his mother had taken her own life a short while after. Boyd felt desperately sorry for the pain she must have been feeling with the loss of her husband—it was a pain all too familiar with his because of how he felt for Cora.

Boyd thought back to the time he had first laid eyes on Cora Steward…

He'd been waiting impatiently in the grand entrance hall of the castle for the woman his parents had said he was to marry for the good of the clans. His hopes and dreams had been dashed when he was informed that he would no longer be able to choose his own bride. For Boyd's heart was already set on a beautiful lass he'd noticed from another clan.

“It’s ye…” a quiet voice had suddenly said from just behind him.

Boyd had turned around to see a beautiful young lass with strawberry blond hair and golden-brown eyes. Her skin was flawlessly white with undertones of peach. Her pale pink gown made her perfect lips look even pinker. To his greatest shock and amazement, she was no stranger at all.

“Hello…” he had managed through his astonishment. “Are ye here with the party or… it cannae be,” his eyes searched her face hopefully with a slight amount of disbelief.