Page 103 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

She smiled at him.

Laird Caithness gestured them in. "Thank ye all fer comin’. Have a seat."

She and her father sat. Tav remained standing.

Caithness folded his hands. "I’ve given our betrothal a great deal of thought," he began, looking at her. His voice was quiet, measured. "And I cannae go forward with it."

Agnes blinked. "What?"

"Nae because o' what happened," he added quickly. "But because ye’re nae mine tae take."

Agnes blinked again, slower this time. Her heart kicked hard against her ribs, and for a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

""What—what daes that mean?" she asked, her voice cracking at the edges.

Caithness turned to her, the faintest smile in his eyes. "It means, lass, that I believe there is another soon-tae-be laird already waitin' fer yer hand."

She looked at Tav, then her father, then back again. Her chest rose and fell too fast, her fingers curling against the fabric of her skirt. Agnes blinked, startled by the sudden turn, but this time it wasn’t from fear or confusion. It was disbelief, radiant and breathless.

Caithness gave a quiet smile, warm and resolute. “Ye’re free, Agnes. I won’t hold ye tae a promise made in war. Nae when yer heart’s already spoken fer.”

Her eyes stung, and for once it wasn’t from pain. She stepped toward Caithness without hesitation, reaching for his hand. “Are ye sure?” she asked, voice thick with emotion. “After all ye did… all ye risked⁠—”

“I’m sure,” he said gently. “Ye were never mine tae keep.”

She gripped his hand tighter, eyes searching his face. “Thank ye. Truly. Ye’ve been naethin’ but kind tae me. I’ll never forget it.”

Caithness gave a quiet huff of a laugh. “Dinnae go gettin’ sentimental on me now.”

Agnes smiled through the tears. “I’m serious. Any lass would be lucky tae have ye. And I ken one day, ye’ll find her. Someone strong and good, just like ye.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. “If she’s even half as strong as ye, I’ll be happy.”

She laughed, soft and real, and then turned to look at her father, who gave her a slight nod of acquiescence, and then to Tav, eyes shining. She didn’t need any more explanations. She already knew everything she needed to. And this time, there was nothing in the way.

“Well then,” she said, tilting her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Guess I’ll have tae get used tae callin’ ye me laird now.”

Tav flushed, just slightly, "I never wanted it. I still dinnae. But until his child is born, the clans want me tae lead. I’m the only heir. Fer now."

Agnes looked at Tav. Really looked at him. He didn’t look proud, he looked pained. As if the weight of the name itself hurt.

Then Tav said, softer, "But I’ll give it up. All o' it. I dinnae care about bein’ a laird. I dinnae care about the name. I just want ye."

Her heart squeezed at his words. He was so humble. So good. The very reason he didn’t want to be laird was exactly why he deserved to be.

Her father stepped in, clearing his throat. "That may nae be an option."

Tav turned. "What?"

Kerr’s face was serious. "If ye want tae marry me daughter, ye’ll need tae be a laird. The clans need a leader. I’m a laird meself, and I could barely keep her safe."

Silence fell again. Agnes stared at him, wide-eyed.

Tav didn’t blink. Didn’t falter. He nodded once. "Then I’ll dae it. I’ll take the name. The land. The weight. Whatever it costs."

And she knew. Whatever lay ahead, he would carry it for her. And she would never let him carry it alone.

The wind coming off the Caithness hills was softer that day. Clean and brisk, but not sharp. Tav sat tall in the saddle, the early summer sun warming his shoulders as he looked down at the quiet sprawl of tents below. The camp was still busy with the final sweep. Soldiers were moving gear, laughing, calling to one another like men who knew they’d won and were finally allowed to breathe again after the rule of a tyrant.