Page 69 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

Tav’s laugh was a harsh scrape of sound. "Tried tae stay away. Tried tae be the dutiful guard, the honor-bound soldier—all the things I’m meant tae be." His fingers flexed at his sides, as if gripping an invisible sword.

She crossed her arms tight over her chest, her nails biting into her own sleeves. "And what exactly is this, then?" The waver in her voice infuriated her. "Honor-bound madness?"

"This is me failing," he said, and took a step closer. The space between them crackled. "Failing tae pretend I dinnae feel what I feel every time ye walk into a room. Every time ye laugh. Every time ye breathe."

"Ye had a strange way o’ showing it," she snapped. Heat flooded her cheeks as the memory struck—his dark head bent toward that girl’s face, their shared smiles in the candlelight. "With yer new wee friend at the ball. Ye seemed tae enjoy that conversation too much."

"Isla?" Tav’s voice tipped into incredulity. "She sat beside me. Gods, I barely said ten words tae the lass."

"Ye laughed." The accusation tore from her, raw-edged.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. "So did ye," he growled. "I watched ye dance with him. Watched him put his hands on ye like ye were already his." Another step. His breath hit her cheek. "And ye let him."

She stepped forward, fire in her eyes. “I had tae. I’m tae marry him. Or did ye forget?”

“Nae,” Tav said, bitter. “I’ve nae forgotten. I watched every bloody step ye took with him. I saw the way he looked at ye.”

“And what way is that?”

Tav held her gaze. “Like he owns ye.”

Agnes flinched. Then squared her shoulders.

“Better that than being ignored while ye flirt with someone else,” she said.

“Is that what this is really about?” Tav asked. “Ye want tae keep count? Should I have spun Isla around the floor tae make it even?”

“Ye already did enough. Ye looked comfortable.”

“I was pretending,” Tav said, taking a step forward with hands shaking at his sides. “Just like ye were.”

The air between them vibrated with heat. Neither stepped back. Neither gave in. Agnes shook her head, trying to swallow the storm rising in her chest. “This is madness.”

“Aye,” Tav said again, stepping closer, his voice rough. “And yet I cannae stop.”

His hand lifted to her face. He stopped just short of touching her.

“Tell me tae go,” he said. “And I will.”

Agnes didn’t speak. The world narrowed as the calloused pad of his thumb traced her jawline. The touch was so light it might have been imagined, were it not for the wildfire it left in its wake. His fingers trembled slightly, as if he feared she’d vanish like mist if he pressed too hard.

Then he surged forward.

Her lips met his with none of the hesitation his touch had carried. It was no gentle courtship kiss, but something fiercer. It was the culmination of every stifled glance, every unspoken word, every night she’d lain awake aching for this. The taste of him flooded her senses as her fingers fisted in his shirt, anchoring herself against the dizzying realization that she’d crossed a line there’d be no coming back from.

It was not gentle. It was fire meeting fire. Her hands fisted in his coat, pulling him closer as his mouth claimed hers like he was starving for her. She gasped when he pushed her back, pressing her against the door, one hand tangling in her hair.

“Gods,” he murmured against her lips. “Ye drive me mad.”

“Good,” she whispered. “Then we match.”

His lips captured hers again, but where the first kiss had been wildfire, this one was slow-burning embers, devastating in its patience. One broad hand cradled the base of her skull, fingers tangling in the loose hairs at her nape, while the other traced the silk-clad curve of her waist with reverence. His touch skimmed lower, mapping the flare of her hips through the fabric as if committing her shape to memory, fingertips pressing just hard enough to leave phantom imprints on her skin beneath.

"This dress," he muttered against the column of her throat, his teeth grazing the frantic pulse there. The words vibrated through her, warm and rough as aged whisky. "It's tryin' tae kill me." His palm slid up her ribcage, the heat of it searing through the delicate fabric. "All this bloody silk...."

Agnes arched into his touch, her breath hitching as his mouth found the sensitive hollow behind her ear. "It's tryin' tae kill me too," she gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

A low growl rumbled against her collarbone. "Let me help."