Page 7 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

The world had narrowed to the dark space beneath the bench, the splintered wood pressing against her back, the metallic taste of fear coating her tongue. Every crash against the carriage, every shout from outside, sent fresh tremors through her body.

A thought circled her mind like a vulture. If she died there, what would be of them? Her father, already worn thin from years of struggle. Constance, who'd sacrificed so much already. The entire clan vulnerable, exposed.

No money meant no mercenaries. No armies meant no protection. Her death wouldn't just be an ending. It would be a noose around every throat she loved.

A scream outside yanked her back into the present. Her whole body tensed.

One of their guards.

Agnes squeezed her eyes shut, but then forced them open again, daring to peek through the carriage window.

Chaos. Steel flashing, Tav at the center of it all, moving like a storm given flesh. He pivoted, his sword arcing in a lethal silver streak. A bandit fell, throat gaping. Blood sprayed the ground, bright as poppies. Gods, he was terrifying. Beautiful. A man who killed like it was breathing.

If Tav fell, she'd be next. Her father had always kept the man at arm's length from her, assigning him border patrols and distant missions. Nae fit company fer a laird’s daughter, he'd grumble. Now she understood why. Tav Graham was a walking weapon and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

Rough hands grabbed the edge of the carriage, then the door. Agnes held her breath.

“Someone's in here.”

Panic sliced through her body like a knife.

The door burst open again. She bit back a sob, curling tighter beneath the bench. It was sudden, jarring. A man’s weathered, cruel face appeared in the narrow opening.

“There ye are,” he rasped.

Agnes reacted without thinking. Her body moved before her mind could catch up, scrambling across the carriage floor, fingers clawing for the opposite door.

The man lunged, but she slammed her shoulder into the door and scrambled out of the carriage into the daylight. The air was thick with the stench of blood and mud and horses, the sky above blurred and dim, as if clouds themselves were afraid to witness what had unfolded below.

She ran.

The ground was soft with rot, branches cracking underfoot as she tore into the woods, skirts gathered in trembling hands. Her breath came sharp and wild. Panic clawed up her throat with every step. She could hear them—heavy footfalls behind her, the crash of boots on undergrowth, the cruel laughter that followed like a shadow.

There were three of them. She didn’t know how she knew, only that the instinct curled inside her bones and shrieked with truth.

Her lungs burned. Her heart felt like it would beat its way free from her chest. All she could think was to run.

Run faster. Just a little further. Maybe they’ll lose me. Maybe Tav will come.

A branch caught her arm, tearing through the fabric of her sleeve and scratching down to the skin. She didn’t stop. The forest was thick, but not thick enough. Her boots slipped in the mud, her legs shaking from the uneven ground, and the moment she stumbled—just a single misstep—she knew it was over.

A hand closed around her waist like an iron band, and she screamed as she was yanked backwards.

She kicked, thrashed, threw her head back with all the strength she had left. “Let go o’ me!”

A cry broke from her lips, torn and raw. The thick arm snared her waist tighter, hoisting her from the ground as though she were weightless. Her legs kicked, frantic, but the man’s grip was firm.

"Let me go!" she shrieked, clawing at his gloved hands, her nails scratching uselessly against the rough leather. Her body twisted, desperate, feral with fear.

"Stop yer struggling," the man growled in a low voice, reeking of drink and sweat. He threw her to the ground. The air left her lungs in a violent gasp as her back hit the sodden earth. Her vision blurred for a moment, stars bursting across the dark canopy above.

Before she could scramble away, he was on her again. Rope bit into her wrists, yanked cruelly behind her back. Her ankles were bound next, tight enough to make her cry out.

Agnes screamed again, hoarse and hopeless. It echoed through the trees, a pitiful sound swallowed by the woods.

Panic swelled in her chest, making her throat close. She could barely breathe, her body stiffening under the weight of helplessness. Her mind grasped at anything, anyone—Tav. She wanted Tav.

She blinked hard, tears slipping down her temples into her hair.