Page 33 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

A flicker of something—wry amusement, maybe—broke through her nerves. “Aye, well. Ye pinned me tae a tree, Tav. There wasn’t much else I could dae.”

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. But not far from one either. “Ye could’ve kicked me. Screamed. I’ve kent ye tae be louder.”

She raised a brow, recovering some of her footing. “Give me time. I’m sure I’ll be yellin’ at ye before the day’s out.”

That earned her a proper look this time. She held it for a moment, longer than she should’ve. Then dropped her gaze.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, voice low again. “Stay near the tree. Dinnae move until I come fer ye.”

She gave him a small nod, folding her arms over her chest to still the shiver working its way up her spine. As he disappeared into the underbrush, the forest seemed to sigh around her. The trees relaxed. The tension eased, but only slightly.

Agnes swallowed hard. Her heart was still racing. And she wasn’t sure anymore if it was from fear… Or from him. All she could feel was the thunder of her heartbeat. The way her skin still remembered the shape of him. The way her body still hummed with the echo of his nearness.

Alone again, Agnes leaned her back against the trunk and stared up at the canopy. The light filtered down in golden slats, illuminating the dust motes and the faint mist that still clung to the forest floor. It should’ve been beautiful. It was beautiful.

She let her head rest back against the bark and closed her eyes.

She didn’t know what to do with any of this. With him. With the fact that she was meant to be a bride, and yet the only man who made her feel anything close to alive was the one who had no business looking at her that way. The one she had no business wanting. Her lips parted. She drew a deep breath.

She let her head rest back against the bark and closed her eyes.

It wasn’t just the danger that left her unsteady. It was him. The way he stood too close. The way his silence wasn’t cold, but careful. Measured. The way his hand had hovered at her waist like he wanted to hold on.

She drew in a long, uneven breath, as if she could exhale the tension he’d left behind. She was promised, bound. A future already drawn for her like ink on a page. And yet, Tav made her feel something that the thought of her future never had. Possibility. And want.

Gods, the wanting.

Her lips parted. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

And when she opened her eyes again, Tav was already walking toward her through the ferns, reins in hand. He stepped back, slow and deliberate, as if it cost him to do it.

"We’ll wait another few minutes," he added, glancing toward the trees. "Make sure they dinnae circle back."

Agnes nodded again, trying to pull herself together. She crossed her arms, more to keep from reaching for him than anything else.

"Next time," she muttered, "ye could at least warn me before trapping me."

A corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Ye looked like ye needed me support."

"Ye looked like ye enjoyed it."

That did it. A ghost of a grin, small and brief.

"Wouldnae be the worst thing I’ve done."

He looked the same as he always did—grim and steady—but his eyes flicked to her face and lingered a moment longer than they should’ve. Agnes straightened, brushing her palms down the front of her skirt.

He stopped a few paces away. “They’re well out o’ earshot now,” he said, voice quiet. “I kept tae the northern rise. Didnae see or hear a trace.”

She nodded, still trying to find her breath, her voice, herself. “Ye think they kent we were hidin’ here?”

Tav shook his head. “Nay. If they had, they would’ve circled back. Searched.”

Agnes chewed her lip. “But they were close.”

“Aye,” he said. “Too close.”

She looked away, toward the place they’d been pressed together, heart skipping again for reasons she could not and would not name aloud. “Dae ye think… they were sent just tae prevent the wedding?”