Page 8 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

Nay. I cannae die like this. Nae here, nae like some discarded thing in the woods.

The man above her grinned, cruel and triumphant.

But then came a sound that split through the trees like a crack of thunder.

A horse.

The ground seemed to tremble with its approach, and then came a deep, commanding shout.

"Get away from her!"

Tav. He is alive.

Relief flooded her, staggering in its force. She sobbed his name even as her bound hands scraped at the dirt in a futile attempt to sit up.

The soldier turned just as Tav’s horse came into view, storming through the brush like some beast of vengeance. Tav was already leaping from the saddle, sword drawn, fury etched in every line of his face.

The man holding her barely had time to react. Tav descended on him with the merciless precision of someone who had fought for survival far too many times. Steel clashed with steel as another two men charged from behind the trees, surrounding Tav.

Agnes could do nothing but lie there, the cold seeping through her clothes into her bones, watching with wide eyes as he fought. She had never seen a man so fierce.

Blood sprayed across the undergrowth. Tav took a blow to the side—she saw it, saw the sharp recoil of his body, the dark stain blooming across his tunic. But he didn’t fall.

He roared as he turned, driving his blade through one attacker’s stomach. The man gasped and fell with a gurgle. A body hitting the ground.

Tav stood there, chest heaving, sword trembling slightly in his grip. Blood ran from the gash across his side, soaking into the leather of his armor.

"Agnes," he rasped.

She didn’t respond at first. She couldn’t. Her throat refused to work. Her limbs felt far away.

He stumbled toward her, dropping to his knees in the mud.

"Ye’re safe now," he said, but his voice was hollow, as though he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He reached for the ropes and began untying her, his fingers slick with blood. She flinched when his hand brushed hers, but then the warmth of his palm settled against her wrist, firm and reassuring.

"I’ve got ye," he said again, more quietly this time.

When the ropes finally fell away, she moved slowly, her body aching and trembling. Tav helped her sit up, then gathered her close, arms circling her in a protective embrace.

Agnes shuddered against him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. The scent of him was a balm, anchoring her to the present.

"I thought… I thought I was going tae die," she whispered.

His hand cradled the back of her head.

"Nae while I still draw breath," he said, voice rough with pain and something else. Something darker.

She pulled back then, eyes wide as she registered the blood on his side.

"Ye’re hurt."

"It’s naething," he lied.

"It’s nae naething."

He looked at her, really looked, and something in his expression shifted.