Page 37 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

Agnes muttered a curse under her breath and leaned forward, squinting ahead. Her hand rose to push back a branch but something sharp caught in her hair.

She froze.

It snagged tight, dragging against her scalp with a sting. Her horse snorted and shifted beneath her, agitated. The pain made her wince.

“Tav?” she called, but her voice was quieter now. A thread of unease coiled in her chest.

He hadn’t heard her. He was riding a few paces ahead, still talking—something about watching the roots up ahead—but she couldn’t make it out. The forest around her seemed to close in, the dark turning thick, the hush pressing too tight against her ears.

She reached up, fingers fumbling and felt another sharp pull. She winced again, twisting slightly in the saddle.

“Tav,” she said again, louder this time.

He reined in instantly. “What is it?”

Agnes didn’t answer right away. She was too busy trying to untangle the thing clawing at her hair.

A branch, probably. Or gods forbid, some forest creature deciding she made a fine nesting site. But it tugged again, and her scalp throbbed.

“Tav—” she said, half screaming now, half annoyed. “I’m stuck.”

He turned his horse around fast, dismounting in one fluid motion. Agnes sat still, hands awkwardly twisted above her head, one leg half-slid from the stirrup as she tried not to move too much.

“I said I was fine,” she muttered as Tav approached, her arms still raised above her head in the most undignified posture possible. “Clearly I lied.”

Tav didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, one brow raised, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Dinnae laugh.”

His smile deepened. “I’ve said naethin’.”

“Ye’re thinkin’ it loud enough I can hear it.” The words were barely out of her mouth when she winced, her hair yanked back again, sharper this time.

He gave a small, infuriating shrug. “Well, it’s nae every day I find ye strung up like a woodland ornament.”

Agnes rolled her eyes and hissed when the branch gave another tug at her scalp. “Charming. Truly. Instead o’ standin’ there like a smug oaf, ye might consider helpin’.”

Tav clicked his tongue like he was weighing the idea, then stepped in, his expression sobering as he peered at the knot of hair tangled around the branch.

“It’s caught good,” he said, voice low now. “Hold still.”

“I am holding still,” she snapped. “I’ve been holdin’ still. Me entire skull is at the mercy o’ this cursed tree.”

Tav didn’t respond, but she felt the warmth of him as he reached up. His fingers brushed against her braid, careful but rough, tugging gently here and there as he assessed the damage. Agnes gritted her teeth. The branch was tugging at the base of her braid like it wanted to take her scalp with it, and Tav’s soft huff of amusement wasn’t helping.

“Are ye enjoying this?” she asked.

He made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh. “Aye.”

She jerked slightly, and the branch bit into her skin.

“Stop movin’,” Tav said, barely holding in another laugh. “Ye’ll make it worse.”

“Ye’ll make it worse,” she mimicked under her breath. “Ye think ye’re hilarious.”

“I’m tryin’ tae help,” he said mildly, and then, before she could respond, he reached up and snapped the branch clean off at its base.

Agnes gasped, jerking backward. Her braid came free, but with it came a rain of dry leaves, twigs, and the sharp sting of a pulled hair or two.