Page 38 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

She blinked, stunned. “Was that really necessary?”

Tav held up the offending branch like a trophy. “It worked, nay?”

Her hand flew to her hair, and she winced. Bits of twig were tangled in the braid, a small knot forming at the base. “I look like I’ve been wrestlin’ wi’ a hedge.”

“Ye kind o’ have.”

She gave him a flat look. “Chivalry’s dead, clearly.”

He grinned. “Dae ye want help cleanin’ it out or nae?”

Agnes paused. She hated asking for help. Hated being fussed over. But her arms were sore, she couldn’t see half of what was in her hair, and frankly, if she tried to sort this herself, she’d likely make it worse.

“…I could,” she muttered.

“I’ll take that as an aye,” he said, already turning back to his horse. “We’ll stop fer camp soon. I’ll fix it then.”

“Oh, will ye now?” she asked, trotting after him. “Is that one o’ yer many hidden talents?”

“I’m prepared fer anything,” he called over his shoulder. “I told ye I’d take ye there in one piece.”

Agnes was momentarily too stunned to reply. The thought of Tav braiding hair, his large, callused hands deftly working through knots and strands, was so at odds with the man currently ducking under low branches and muttering about firewood that it made her head spin.

She swung back into her saddle, her hair still sticking out at odd angles. “Well then,” she muttered. “Let’s hope ye ken what ye’re daein’.”