Page 80 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

"I’ll be back." With a smile and a whirl of skirts, Paisley disappeared through the door.

The room fell silent. Agnes tilted her head back again, letting the steam soak into her skin. The flicker of firelight danced on the ceiling above her. Her muscles floated loose in the water, but her thoughts tightened all over again.

Tav.

What had happened to him? The pacing, the ranting, the way he’d looked at her like he wanted to run and stay at the same time. And now? She sighed. The heat was making her sleepy. Maybe she would nap in the tub—just a little⁠—

The door creaked. Agnes blinked upright, her hands instantly curling around the sides of the tub. She hadn’t expected Paisley to return so soon. But it wasn’t Paisley. Tav stood in the doorway, hair damp and disheveled, his shirt rumpled, eyes wide as they landed on her in the bath.

"Christ," he said, and immediately looked away, turning sharply toward the fireplace as if it might swallow him whole. "I—Gods, I thought ye’d be dressed. I was comin’ tae apologize."

Agnes stared at him. Her entire body flushed, and not just from the heat.

"Tav," she said, very slowly. "What are ye daeing in me chambers while I’m bathing?"

"I didnae think— I mean, I thought—" He turned halfway, then turned back, clearly battling himself.

Agnes let out a laugh, half flustered, half amused. "Well, ye’ve seen me now. Might as well finish yer apology."

He groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m sorry. Truly. Fer last time we spoke. I was... out o’ me mind. I didnae mean tae snap at ye. Or make ye feel unwelcome."

Agnes’s expression softened slightly. "Then why did ye?"

Tav stepped forward, just enough to be seen from the corner of her eye. His voice dropped. "Because I’m scared, Agnes. And when I’m scared, I get sharp. That’s nay excuse, but it’s the truth. And the idea o’ losin’ ye—or seein’ ye in danger again—it makes me thoughts twist up. I should’ve said that."

She didn’t answer right away. The bathwater lapped gently around her as the fire cracked nearby. Tav shifted, awkward and fidgeting, as though debating whether to bolt entirely. Then they heard it. Footsteps. From the corridor.

Agnes’s eyes widened in alarm. "Paisley."

Tav paled.

Agnes pointed sharply toward the bed. "Under. Now."

"What?"

"Go!"

He didn’t argue again. Just scrambled, as silently as possible, to duck beneath the bed. His boot caught on the edge of the frame with a thud, and he barely muffled a curse.

Agnes splashed deliberately as the door opened. Paisley re-entered, holding a tray.

"Found some fresh bread and cheese," she announced. "And some little sweet tarts ye must try."

Agnes smiled brightly. "Saints bless ye. I’m starved."

Paisley set the tray down near the fire and turned. "Ye feelin’ better?"

"Much," Agnes said truthfully, shifting a bit in the tub to avoid glancing toward the bed. "The water helped."

Paisley nodded. "Good. Stay in as long as ye like."

"I think I will."

"Right, I’ll leave ye tae it then. If ye need me, I’ll be within hearin’." With that, she swept from the room once more.

"Ye can come out now," she said, voice half-laughing.

There was a beat of silence. Then Tav’s voice, muffled and miserable, "I think I bruised me rib again."