Page 22 of Confessions of a Highland Assassin

Boyd accepted the drinks without a word as the woman took up her seat beside him again.

“Now that’s a fine lass right there!” Rory lifted one of the fresh mugs, spilling some over the side and onto his companion, who had climbed onto his lap.

“Hey!” she protested with a giggle and wiped at the drops that had splashed onto her chest.

“Och! Dinnae fash, lass!” Rory jested and gave her side a little tickle with his free hand. “We can just tak’ that dress off tae dry!”

The woman laughed heartily and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

Boyd watched the scene with thinly veiled amusement as he downed the second ale. His friend had always been a bit of a flirt with the lasses, a man who was unlikely to take a wife unless she matched his character. None of the women who frequented the taverns would ever make a likely wife for him.

“Are ye enjoying that ale, milaird?” his supposed companion purred beside him, casually placing her hand on his arm.

Boyd was beginning to feel the effects of the dram that he and Rory had already chugged before the lasses had arrived. “It’s just fine,” he answered gruffly.

“Ye didnae ask my name, milaird,” she said pouting her lips and leaning in until she was pressed against his side.

“Aye, what is yer name then, lass?”

“Kenzie,” she whispered softly in his ear.

“And what dae ye do for a living, Kenzie?”

“Why dae ye nae come with me? I have a room behind the tavern, and I can show ye exactly what I do.” Kenzie gently kissed his cheek with soft lips, lingering for a second or two.

Boyd paused, feeling like he owed himself a chance to feel something, anything. He was after all to take a wife in the near future. Downing the last of his ale, he banged the mug back down and stood. “Show me, then.”

The woman brightened considerably as she stood in haste and took his hand, leading him through the throng of merry patrons. They left the tavern and took a short walk to a line of rooms behind the wooden frame of the noisy building.

“Just in here, milaird,” Kenzie smiled at him as she pushed open the door with her hip and led him inside. The interior was dim and smelled of cheap perfume. But Boyd had little time to assess his surroundings as Kenzie threw her arms around his neck and drew him in for a passionate kiss.

Bringing his hands up to her waist, he held her fast and returned her kiss, drawing the warmth of her body into his.

Her hands caressed his thighs and massaged the path between his legs, letting him know exactly what she had in mind. “I’ll just help ye a little with that,” she whispered against his lips as she dropped to her knees in front of him and placed her hands on his inner thighs. “I promise ye will like it very much… milaird…” the way she emphasized his title made him freeze.

“That’s enough,” he said as gently as he could while pulling her to her feet by her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I cannae dae this. It’s nae going tae happen.”

Her face immediately changed. Kenzie looked deeply hurt as she straightened her dress.

“I’ve had a wee bit tae much ale, thank ye for yer company, lass,” he said politely and closed the door behind him as he left the room, without even having a last glance at the girl.

What are ye thinking, Boyd. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb before walking back toward the tavern. He needed to sober up and clear his thoughts.

Why dae I feel like I’m betraying Cora… He raked his hands over his face and sighed at the struggle he felt brewing in his head.

Boyd made his way over to a barrel of water beside the tavern's back wall and dunked his head in the icy clear liquid, gasping as he came up for air. He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing the stray blond strands back into place. He was about to walk away when he was startled by a scream. He spun around, scanning the area. He couldn't see where the scream came from until a second cry sent him scurrying into a nearby thicket of old oak trees.

Slashing through the overgrown bushes as quickly as he could, he came upon a man pinning a woman to the trunk of a tree. His filthy hands were all over her body as she tried her best to fight him off to no avail. The highlander was three times her size.

Breaking free, the woman slapped the man in the face. But he was quicker than she and ripped the bodice of her grey dress, tearing the fabric and exposing her flesh.

Boyd lunged toward them and gripped the man by his shoulders, yanking him back and sending him sprawling into the undergrowth.

“What in the blazes!” the man yelled angrily from the ground as he caught sight of Boyd. “Mind yer own damn business!” Picking himself up, the man drunkenly lunged forward, trying to grab Boyd around the waist. But even in his inebriated state, Boyd was much quicker on his feet. He easily side-stepped the man, letting him crash headlong into another tree. Drawing his sword, he quickly used the butt of the hilt to knock the man unconscious with one swift blow.

“That will keep him out for a while,” he said confidently when he was sure that man was out cold. “Are ye hurt, miss?” he turned to the woman who was watching him with a shocked look on her face.

“Nae,” she breathed as she stared at him.