Page 43 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tav stood with his back to the fire, his arms folded, gaze pinned to the darkness just beyond the edge of light. The forest breathed around them, deep and steady, like some ancient beast at rest. The trees whispered above, the wind threading through their branches like fingers through hair, and in the canopy overhead, stars burned cold and clear.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink much. He’d trained himself out of that long ago. When you blinked too long, you missed things. Things like the rustle of a boot in dry grass, the flex of a bowstring before the arrow flew. Those woods weren’t likely to hold danger, but Tav never trusted a quiet night. Quiet was a liar, because when you got used to it, that’s when danger struck.

He scanned the tree line again, instinctively mapping the terrain. The stream they’d passed earlier curved west, which meant they’d need to double back before sunrise and cut east again to avoid the worst of the slope ahead. He pictured it all in his head, like laying out stones on a board. Forest, incline, creek bed. Old game trails hidden beneath the brush. He marked them with invisible ink behind his eyes, a route unfolding step by step.

One day until they arrived to Castle Mey. Hours. He should have felt relief at that. The end was in sight. The duty done. But his chest pulled tighter the closer they got. Not just because of the risk, the men who might still be behind them, somewhere in the trees. But something harder to name.

He shifted slightly, boot grinding into the dirt. The fire behind him popped. Agnes was stirring in her sleep and he turned just slightly, just enough to see her curled up in the blanket, her hair a dark braid across her shoulder, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her breathing was slow and steady, the lines of her face soft. Vulnerable. He hated that word. Hated what it meant out here. But she was. Not because she was weak, but because she trusted him enough to fall asleep with her back to him.

That thought made his chest ache. He looked away. Ye’re the sword, he reminded himself. That’s all ye are.

And yet, every time she laughed, every time her voice cut through the dark and she looked at him like he was more than a blade, more than a shadow of obligation, and it rattled him. Made something sharp inside him curl toward the warmth. But was that simply her nature? To be kind without cause? Or did her pulse quicken when he neared, as his did for her? The question lodged like a blade between his ribs. He couldn't entertain it, not truly, for the mere possibility of her indifference left him breathless, as if his very soul had been pressed between millstones.

A small sound pulled him from the thought. Not the forest. Agnes. She shifted again, harder this time. A whimper. Tav turned immediately. She jerked in her sleep, brows drawn tight, her limbs twisting under the blanket. Another sound, low and strained. Then⁠—

A high, broken cry escaped her throat. Tav was moving before he even realized it.

He dropped to his knees at her side, one hand reaching out but stopping just short of touching her. Her face was twisted, her lips trembling, her breath coming too fast. Another choked noise escaped her throat and his gut clenched.

“Agnes,” he said softly, urgently. “Agnes—it’s me. I’m here.”

Her eyes snapped open with a sharp gasp. Her whole body jolted, sitting upright too fast, wild-eyed and panting. Tav caught her before she could fall sideways, steadying her with both hands.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, calm, “It’s alright. It’s me. Ye’re safe.”

She blinked rapidly, tears clinging to her lashes, chest heaving. She looked around like she didn’t recognize where she was. Like she wasn’t sure any of it was real.

“It was just a dream,” he murmured, “Ye’re safe. I promise.”

Agnes shuddered. Her mouth opened once, then closed. She pressed her hands to her face, dragging them down roughly as though trying to erase what she’d just seen.

“I saw them,” she whispered. “The men in the forest that tried tae kidnap me. The ones who… grabbed me and killed yer men.”

Tav’s hands curled into fists where they rested against her bedroll. He kept his voice level. “It wasn’t real. They’re gone. Long gone.”

She shook her head, still breathless. “It didnae feel like a dream. It felt like I was back there. Like I was in it again and they wouldnae let go.”

The firelight caught the sheen of sweat on her brow, the fear still clinging to her skin like a second cloak. Tav hated the look in her eyes. Hated the helplessness he saw there. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled her against his chest.

Agnes stiffened for a heartbeat. Then, she melted into his embrace. Her hands gripped the front of his tunic like it was the only solid thing in the world. She was trembling.

He didn’t speak. Just held her with his arms wrapped around her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other at her spine, anchoring her. Her breath hitched again, then leveled slowly. He could feel the shape of her against him, every curve, every breath, every tremor. She fit. God help him, she fit like she belonged there.

He shut his eyes, his cheek resting lightly against the top of her head. If he could have taken the memory away from her, ripped it free and buried it where it could never hurt her again, he would have in a heartbeat. If he could have hunted the men down and silence their breaths with steel, he’d have done that too.

But right now, all he could do was be there, be her shield. Agnes didn’t let go. Didn’t speak.

Tav rubbed slow circles into her back, whispering things he barely remembered saying. Things like “I’ve got ye,” and “Nay one will touch ye again,” and “Ye’re alright, lass. Ye’re alright.”

She shivered against him. One of her hands curled around his sleeve.

“Ye dinnae have tae speak,” he told her, voice rough with something too big to name. “Ye dinnae have tae explain. I’m here.”

She nodded into his chest.

He stayed there until her breathing evened out again, until her grip loosened. Until the tension bled from her spine. But he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. Because somewhere in that moment, sitting beside the fire, with her held so close he could feel her heartbeat beneath her ribs, he knew something with a clarity that shook him: he would never be able to let her go. Not when they reached the castle. Not when she was passed to another man like coin across a table. Not when she smiled at someone else the way she smiled at him.