Page 81 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

Agnes clapped a hand over her mouth.

He emerged slowly, covered in dust, hair askew, looking thoroughly affronted. "That was—" he began.

"Deserved," she said primly.

He rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. Then, his expression grew more serious.

"I really am sorry, Agnes. Fer this morning. Fer last night. Fer all o’ it."

Her gaze softened. "I forgive ye. But next time—maybe knock first."

He gave a sheepish nod. "Lesson learned."

They looked at each other for a moment, something quiet passing between them. Then Tav straightened.

"I’ll let ye get back tae... nae drownin’."

Agnes smirked. "I’ll try."

And then he was gone, leaving behind a faint trail of dust and a heartbeat that would take a while yet to settle. She leaned back in the bath, smiling for real.

The door clicked softly behind him, and silence settled once more. Agnes let the warmth cradle her, her smile lingering even as her eyes fluttered shut. For the first time in days, her chest didn’t ache quite so sharply. Her limbs floated weightless. The air still smelled of lavender and woodsmoke.

But slowly, the quiet crept back in. The smile dimmed, curling at the edges. Doubt returned steadily, like a tide rolling in to reclaim what it had momentarily spared.

Her mind remained tangled, her heart pacing even as her body sat still. Tav had spoken to her. Finally, he had apologized and smiled like he used to when they were travelling. And still, she didn’t know what to make of it.

She rose when the water began to cool, wrapping herself in a robe and standing for a long moment at the hearth, letting the fire chase the damp from her limbs. Outside, the light had dipped lower, softening into evening. Shadows stretched across the floor. The bath should have soothed her. Instead, her thoughts churned harder, louder, crashing against each other like waves with no shore to break upon.

Caithness. His words from the picnic wouldn’t leave her. They pressed in against her chest, soft as a whisper but so heavy. The choice he’d offered her so gently, the way he’d made space for her feelings even when they weren’t in his favor.

And that, somehow, made it harder. Because now, she had to reckon with what that freedom might cost. If she walked away from the match, there was no promise the alliance would hold. No safety net for her clan. She could lose him and risk her people losing everything.

She dressed slowly and brushed her hair back into a loose braid with shaking fingers. Her lips were dry. She poured herself a cup of water, sipped, and set it down. Then she paced the length of the room, again and again.

The silence Tav had buried her under was too much. The yearning in her chest refused to quiet or settle. And Caithness deserved someone steady. Not a woman walking in circles, heart cleaved open in two.

She caught sight of herself in the glass as she passed the window. A ghost of a woman trying to make sense of feelings that didn’t fit neatly into boxes of loyalty or love.

She had to speak to Tav. Her feet moved without asking permission, carrying her out into the corridor, down the long, quiet hall lit with flickering sconces. She paused at his door. Her hand hovered above the wood, fingers trembling. Then, she knocked and the door opened.

Tav stood there, hair damp and rumpled, his shirt wrinkled, his face drawn. His eyes were still shadowed with too many thoughts, too many nights spent turning over regrets.

Agnes swallowed. "Can I come in?"

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at her. Then he nodded once, stepping aside. "Aye. As much as I ken we shouldnae talk... I want tae talk wi’ ye."

She stepped inside. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the fire. His bed was unmade. A cup sat half-drunk on the table. The windows were fogged over with the press of night. It felt like time had stilled in his room, like he’d been stuck in that same moment since she had left.

Agnes turned to face him. "I came tae this castle because it was me duty. Because I thought... it was the right thing."

Tav stood still, arms loosely at his sides. "Me duty ended the moment I brought ye here safely."

Her breath hitched, but she pushed forward. "Daes that duty also include watchin’ me get married?"

Something in his expression broke. He didn’t speak at first. Just moved slowly, like the motion cost him something, and sat down on the edge of his bed. His hands braced against his knees as he bowed his head.

"If it were up tae me," he said, voice low and breaking, "this weddin' would never take place."

He gave a small shrug, but it carried a weight of loss that left her breathless. It was the quiet surrender of someone who had already let go of something they never truly believed they could keep. It was in the slump of his shoulders, in the way his eyes refused to meet hers for more than a heartbeat. As if saying it aloud had cost him something he couldn't get back.

It made her chest tighten, made her want to reach for him and push the words back into his mouth.

"But I cannae force ye.” He continued. “I cannae ask ye tae give up what yer faither planned, or go against his wishes or what the world expects. Even if every part o' me has already chosen ye. Long ago."

She felt the floor sway beneath her, and her hands curled into fists. She didn’t know when but she stepped toward him, as if pulled.

"Tav," she whispered.

She dropped to her knees before him, hands trembling as she reached up to touch his face. Her palms framed his cheeks. His skin was warm. He didn’t move.

Their eyes locked and the space grew smaller, like the air itself was urging them forward. Agnes’s body moved before her mind could catch up, pulled, like a thread too tightly wound finally giving way.

They met halfway and their lips found each other in the silence, not with desperation, but with aching, tentative reverence. His hand found her waist. Hers moved to the back of his neck, into the rough silk of his hair. She felt the smallest tremble in his breath, the way his lips hesitated like he didn’t quite believe this was real.

It was heaven.