Page 5 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

CHAPTER TWO

The world outside the carriage blurred into shades of wet grey and brittle pine as the wheels creaked and jostled over uneven stone and mud. A low mist had settled over the moors by late evening, clinging to the edges of tree trunks like cobwebs reluctant to let go. Agnes watched it move through the open window of the carriage, her hand curled loosely around the frame as though tethering herself to something solid.

It had been a day and a half since they had left home. She was still felt suspended in the space between departure and destination, as if time itself had lost its footing. The hours bled together with little mercy. She was the kind of tired that seeped into the bones and made them ache from memory alone, not the kind that sleep cured.

A soft clop of hooves drew her attention. One of the guards, a younger man with fair lashes and a crooked smile, had been riding beside her window for the better part of the last hour. She had not spoken to him at first, but there was something disarming about his presence. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen.

He had offered her a piece of honeyed oatcake, clearly pilfered from their breakfast supply, and she’d accepted it with a smile that surprised even her at that moment.

“I dinnae think I’ve ever seen fog settle this thick in this part o’ the road,” he said lightly, adjusting his grip on the reins. “Must be the moors tryin’ tae warn us off.”

Agnes tilted her head slightly, lips curving. “Warn us off what?”

He grinned, boyish and easy. “Whatever it is that waits on the road, me lady.”

She laughed genuinely this time. The sound surprised her again, lifting from her chest like a leaf caught on the wind. “Och, ye sound like me old nursemaid. She used tae say moors like this were cursed.”

“Perhaps they are.”

“Perhaps we are,” she countered with a laugh, before she could stop herself.

The guard’s expression faltered, but only for a breath. “Well then, we’ll be cursed together, aye?”

The words settled something restless inside her. She did not know his name, but she knew kindness when she heard it, and there had been precious little of that in the last months. Perhaps even years.

“Guard yer tongue.”

The voice cut through the air like the crack of a whip.

Agnes turned, heart skipping as Tav rode up beside them on his, his dark cloak catching in the wind like a shadow with a mind of its own. Agnes turned, her heart stumbling as Tav rode up beside them, his steed’s powerful strides eating up the distance. His dark cloak snapped behind him like a living shadow, the wind carving its shape against the broad planes of his shoulders. Gods, he was a vision—all controlled strength and lethal grace.

His jaw was clenched tight, the muscle flickering with restrained fury, but his eyes were what stole her breath, storm-dark and locked onto the young guard with a focus that could’ve cut steel. A shiver raced down her spine.

“Ye’ll ride ahead, from now on,” Tav said, voice quiet but sharp enough to bleed. “Dinnae let me hear ye speak tae her again.”

The young guard hesitated, clearly stunned. His eyes darted to Agnes and back to Tav.

Who daes he think he is?

“Now.”

The boy urged his horse forward with a muttered apology, his smile gone. Agnes watched him disappear into the mist ahead, a bitter taste blooming on her tongue, as a pang of shame pierced her chest.

“That was entirely unnecessary,” she said, turning her eyes sharply toward Tav. “He was simply being kind tae me. Nay one has spoken tae me fer the past two days.”

Tav did not meet her gaze. “It isnae his place tae be kind tae ye.”

Her temper sparked. “And whose place is it, then? Yers? Because if so, ye’ve a strange way o’ showing it.”

Tav’s expression did not flicker. He simply strode forward, his hands tightening on the horse's reins. The movement caused the serpent tattoo coiled across his right hand to flex like a living creature.

“It’s me duty tae keep the guards in line. Tae remind them o’ their rank. And yers.”

She leaned out the window farther, brows drawn tight. “Ye shamed him. And fer what? Bein’ nice tae me?”

“He forgot himself. I reminded him.”

“Ye humiliated him.”