Page 91 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

Tav blinked. The air in the room thinned. "What daes this mean?"

Caithness folded his hands. "It means that now he’s afraid."

"Afraid o’ what?" Tav asked, but even as the words left his mouth, he felt the chill of understanding creep in.

"Of ye," Ewan said. "Of how ye might threaten his rule. He wants tae erase the threat before his son is born. Make sure there's nay claim but that of his own legitimate heir."

Tav’s throat worked. “Even if this is true what daes he think I’m goin’ tae dae? March up tae his gates and declare meself? Take his keep?”

Ewan’s voice was quiet. “He thinks ye might. Ye wouldnae be the first. Men like Armstrong plan decades ahead. And he’s always been a man ruled by fear.”

Tav paced, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots. “It makes nae difference what he fears. I dinnae want it. I never have. I want peace. I want...”

He closed his eyes.

Agnes.

Kerr was watching him carefully now. “Ye dinnae sound sure.”

“I am,” Tav snapped.

There was a long pause.

Caithness set his glass down. “We can bury this, if ye want. We can burn the secret and keep it between us. But it willnae stop the man from comin’. If he thinks ye’re a threat, then he’ll come fer ye again. And next time, it willnae be a raid.”

Tav clenched his fists. “Let him come. I’ll meet him with steel if I must. But I’ll nae go playin’ prince in a house I’ve never seen, among people who dinnae even ken me name.”

Kerr leaned forward, his expression grave. "And if it's true, Tav? If what we’ve found proves true? That makes ye a rightful heir tae a seat of power. That makes ye more than a warrior. It makes ye a threat."

"I'm nay threat," Tav muttered. "I'm a man who wants tae be left alone."

Agnes stepped into the solar just after the midday bell, expecting the space to be empty. The room was warm with afternoon light, the fire burning low but steady. The shutters had been thrown open, letting in the spring air, but she barely noticed the breeze. Her stomach was tight, her hands colder than they should have been.

She hadn’t even crossed halfway into the room before a voice behind her made her freeze.

"Agnes."

Her breath caught. She turned. Her father was standing by the hearth, arms folded, eyes on her with that familiar, steady warmth that cracked her wide open.

"Faither?" she breathed, astonished.

His face softened into a smile. "Ye look well."

She managed a smile. "Dae I?"

"Tired," he added, stepping closer. "But well."

She stepped toward him, heart fluttering wildly. "What are ye daeing here?"

She tilted her head, studying him. Her father, there without warning, standing in this castle as if he had always belonged to it. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It felt strange they had been apart this long, and stranger still that she could feel both unsettled and happy to see him. The sight of him was a comfort she hadn’t realized she’d missed until then.

"Couldnae stay away forever," he said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently. "And we have things tae speak about, ye and I."

“How have ye been? Is Constance back at Stewart castle with Bane?” she asked, her voice gentler now, even as her throat tightened with the question.

“Aye, she is. We’ve all been well enough,” her father said, his gaze softening further. “Though the castle feels hollow without ye, me child.”

He reached out and cupped her cheek, his callused thumb brushing lightly along her temple. He was the last one who had touched her with that kind of uncomplicated affection.