Page 51 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The first rider tore through the trees like a shadow wrenched from the earth.

Tav saw him before the sound reached them, moving like a dark shape against deeper wood, hooves drumming into the clearing. Another followed. Then another. Dirt and pine needles scattered, lifted into the air as the riders cut through the forest like hunting dogs unleashed.

His breath locked behind his ribs. Five. Six. Too many.

He didn’t think, didn’t wait. He shoved Agnes back with one hand. “Get tae yer horse. Now.”

She didn’t hesitate. She ran.

Behind him, Tav heard the sharp hiss of steel as he unsheathed his sword. The weight of it settled into his palm like breath to lung. He didn’t look back. Her footsteps pounded across the moss and earth, her soaked shift dragging against her legs, boots forgotten by the bank, but she was moving. He could hear that much.

He pivoted, tracking her out of the corner of his eye as she threw herself into the saddle, her mare tossing its head in protest. The beast was spooked—eyes wide, nostrils flaring—but Agnes held on, bare legs gripping slick leather.

Tav was beside her in seconds. He vaulted into the saddle, swinging up in one fluid motion.

“We ride. We ride fast. Dinnae look back.”

“Tav—”

“Castle Mey. Move!”

She didn’t argue. The horses surged forward, muscle and panic beneath them, hooves ripping into the soft ground, flinging moss and stones in their wake as they galloped toward the forest trail. Trees blurred into streaks. The roar of pursuit clung to their heels.

Agnes leaned low over her mare’s neck. Tav rode beside her, close enough to shield her, close enough to lose sight of her only if he fell. Branches clawed past them. The wind lashed wet hair into his eyes. His pulse thundered with the rhythm of hooves.

“Who are they?” she gasped. Her voice barely reached him.

“Mercenaries. Maybe scouts. Daesnae matter. They’re after us. Keep ridin’.”

She said nothing more. He knew she was hurting, her legs trembled, her lungs worked raggedly, but she didn’t slow. He knew she would handle it.

The path twisted sharp. Tav’s horse bucked against the turn. He heard her stumble behind him, caught sight of her nearly losing grip—but she stayed upright, correcting fast. Brave. Too brave. He shouted, pointing toward the ridge ahead.

“Go left! The incline! We’ll lose them if we make the crest!”

But the sound of hooves never dulled. Closer now. Much closer.

“They’re splittin’—tryin’ tae flank us!” he yelled.

She swore, barely audible over the wind. Tav caught the shape of a rider gaining on them from the left. No time to hesitate. He cut across, veering toward the trees, sword up.

“Tav!”

“Keep goin’! Dinnae stop!” he bellowed, without turning.

The break in the trees came sudden. They burst through—and then there it was. Castle Mey.

The towers rose like jagged teeth from the cliff’s edge, banners whipping in the wind, stone walls catching the pale afternoon light. The sea glittered behind it like a promise, unreachable. Tav felt her breath hitch beside him. They weren’t safe. Not yet.

“We’re close!” he called, drawing even with her. Blood dripped down his jaw, but he didn’t stop. “Ye see it?”

“Aye!”

Behind them, hooves still thundered. The shouts of their pursuers echoed off the hillside. Tav twisted in his saddle. Too many. Still gaining. He drove his horse harder. Down the slope. Toward the gates.

Guards stood on the battlements now. He saw bows drawn. He lifted his sword high, shouting over the pounding of his horse’s hooves.