Page 36 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

She imagined him at the wedding. Not in the shadows or as the quiet escort lurking by the door. She imagined him standing at the altar.

The image came unbidden. Him in something finer than his usual leathers, though still not proper. He’d never be proper. Maybe the collar would be slightly crooked, the cuffs undone. Hair still a bit damp from being forced into neatness. And he’d be looking at her.

Agnes shifted in the saddle, uneasy. It was a stupid thought. A useless one. Tav wasn’t hers. He wasn’t even trying to be.

She clenched her hands on the reins. “Gods,” she muttered under her breath, annoyed at herself.”

The horse flicked an ear, as if agreeing with her nonsense.

Tav glanced back again, brow lifting. “Ye mutterin’ spells, or just talkin’ tae yerself now?”

Agnes forced a smirk. “Bit o’ both.”

He didn’t press, but his mouth twitched in that maddening way it always did when he knew more than he let on. She scowled and kicked her horse forward. Maybe she’d imagine him tripping into a stream next. That was a much safer fantasy.

Dusk fell fast that night, as if someone had doused the sky in ink. One moment the trees were lit in gold, and the next, they were blue-black shadows curling around them. Agnes squinted into the growing dark, her eyes straining to follow the vague shape of Tav riding ahead.

“Careful there,” he called over his shoulder. “Ground’s turnin’ patchy.”

“I noticed,” she muttered, half to herself.

She’d spent the last hour trying not to ride directly into a tree. The path was barely visible now, the moon obscured by thick cloud, and her mare’s ears kept flicking nervously, picking up things she couldn’t see. Every rustle of leaves made her back tighten.

Tav slowed a little, glancing over. “Ye alright?”

“Fine,” she said. “Just cannae see more than a foot in front o’ me.”

“Keep yer reins steady. And mind the low branches.”

She was trying. Truly. But her vision was nothing like his. He seemed able to sense the shape of the land by instinct, moving fluid and sure, while she felt like a blindfolded chicken.

“I can ride,” she snapped, before he could offer to lead her like a child.

“I ken,” he said mildly. “Still, rather ye didnae end up with a broken neck.”

His calm only annoyed her more and she gritted her teeth, blinking hard into the dark. Shadows played tricks on her, shapes curling at the edges of her sight. Her mount shifted beneath her, uneasy.

Tav reined in, waiting. “D’ye want me tae ride ahead? Set the pace?”

Agnes hesitated. Her pride wanted to decline. Her knees, however, were less convinced.

“… Aye. Fine.”

He didn’t gloat. Just urged his horse forward a few paces, enough that she could keep his outline in sight.

“Just follow me,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll call out if it gets worse.”

Agnes adjusted her reins, narrowing her eyes to the silhouette in front of her. “I’ve got eyes, Tav.”

“Aye, and I’d rather they dinnae get gouged out by a low-hangin’ pine.”

She bit back a reply, mostly because her horse suddenly stumbled on a rock and she yelped, grabbing the saddle horn to steady herself.

“Ye alright?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, cheeks burning. She was glad he couldn’t see that.

Tav didn’t say anything, but she could almost feel his smirk through the dark.