Page 23 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

“This isnae about carrying things,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “It’s about safety. Ye walk out that door with your face uncovered, and someone will notice ye.”

“And if I cover it?”

He took two long strides across the room until he stood directly in front of her, looking down into her face, her defiance, her fire.

“If ye cover yer face,” he said, “they’ll wonder what ye’re hiding.”

He reached out without thinking, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. The gesture was small. Her skin was soft beneath his callused fingers.

She froze, breath hitching. She didn’t step back.

“Ye are nae safe here,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “And I cannae be in two places at once. I need tae ken that when I leave this room, ye willnae step outside o’ it.”

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face like she could see straight through the layers he wore. She didn’t speak.

“Promise me,” he said.

Still no answer.

Finally, her voice came, low and rough. “I promise.”

He exhaled, the knot in his chest loosening by a hair. He stepped back before he could change his mind. He grabbed his cloak and sword, strapping the blade to his side.

“I willnae be long,” he said, opening the door.

Her voice stopped him. “Tav.”

He turned. She looked small. The firelight cast her in gold.

“I’m nae angry,” she said again, softer now. “Just… unprepared.”

He nodded and with that, he stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Tav rubbed the back of his neck, pacing the edge of the hallway just outside the inn. The air was cool against his skin, but it did little to steady the heat simmering in his blood. It had seemed like a smart choice at the time—one room, one key, fewer eyes watching her movements, no questions from the innkeeper. It meant he could keep her safe.

But how in the hells was he supposed to endure it?