Page 18

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

B y the time the sun had burned off the morning mist, Agnes knew something was wrong.

Tav hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to her since they’d saddled the horses.

No soft teasing, no dry quips, not even the occasional grunt of acknowledgment he usually gave when she pointed out something mildly amusing, like the rabbit tracks crossing the trail, or how her mare seemed to prefer walking in zigzags just to irritate her.

Nothing. Not a single word from him. Just silence.

And the soft crunch of hooves through damp earth.

Agnes sat straighter in the saddle and narrowed her eyes. He rode just ahead, as always, but now he seemed to be keeping that distance deliberately. His shoulders were set tight, head angled just enough that she couldn’t see his face when she called out to him. Which she had. Twice already.

“Tav,” she said again, louder this time. His name cracked between them like a whip, sharp enough to slice through the damp air.

He didn’t slow, didn’t so much as flick a glance her way. Just kept riding, his shoulders a rigid line beneath his woolen plaid, his horse picking its way through the narrow path with infuriating calm, as if she were nothing more than the wind rattling the bracken.

Agnes’s jaw tightened. The leather of her reins creaked under her grip. Fine. If he wanted to play the stone-faced sentinel, carved from granite and silence, then so be it. But she wasn’t some simpering maiden content to trail after him in brooding obedience.

With a click of her tongue, she urged her mare forward, hooves splashing through a peat-dark puddle as she drew up beside him. Close enough to see the muscle feathering in his temple, or to smell the woodsmoke still clinging to his clothes. She could finally see the stubborn set of his mouth.

“Did ye leave yer tongue back by the fire,”she bit out,“or is this yer new idea o’ charming company?”

The words hung there, sharp as a dirk between them. An invitation for him tolookat her, tospeak, to prove he was affected by her presence. But Tav? He just stared straight ahead, his silence thicker than the mist coiling over the hills.

Then his eyes flicked to her, briefly and there was a hollowness there she had never seen in his icy eyes before. “We’ve ground tae cover.”

She stared at him. That was all he was going to say? Just that?

“Aye,” she said dryly, “I noticed. I thought mayhap we’d keep each other from goin’ mad while we dae it.”

No answer.

Agnes clenched her fists around the reins.

Her heart was thudding too fast for something so small.

Why did it feel like he was punishing her for something?

She’d done nothing wrong. If anything, he was the one who had held her all night like she was some precious thing worth guarding.

Like she was his. And now he wouldn’t even look at her.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, staring straight ahead, trying not to let the sting crawl into her voice. “Did I say something wrong?”

Still nothing.

The silence grew unbearable. The birdsong above them grated on her ears now. Each hoofbeat thudded through her like an accusation. She wanted to scream. Instead, she laughed—a bitter, low sound.

“Well, if yer aim was tae make things uncomfortable, congratulations. Ye’ve outdone yerself.”

He still didn’t respond. Just kept riding. Agnes felt something unravel inside her, like the sound of thread being pulled from a seam.

It wasn’t just that he was ignoring her. It was the way he’d withdrawn so completely. Like the night they’d just shared had never happened at all. Was it guilt? Regret? Did he think she was foolish enough to believe it hadn’t meant something to him?

A hot flush climbed up her neck. No. She wouldn’t cry. Not over this.

The trees began to thin, the path widening slightly as the forest gave way to low hills. Far ahead, she could see the shimmer of the northern coastline. The Castle of Mey was still out of sight, hidden behind the next ridge, but she could feel its presence like a weight pressing against her chest.

The trail cut through a shallow glen that opened into a narrow clearing.

It was just wide enough to let sunlight spill through, turning the moss underfoot gold.

Agnes shifted in her saddle, tugging her braid forward over her shoulder, her hair still damp with the mist of early morning.

She’d been quiet for the last half hour, mostly out of stubbornness, letting Tav sit stiff in his own silence ahead of her.

Then they heard a low, rushing hush of water. It was a sound like whispered secrets spilling over moss-slick stones. The mare's ears twitched forward, nostrils flaring at the mineral scent curling through the trees.

Agnes reined her mount to a sudden halt, her boots pressing instinctively into the stirrups as her gaze snapped toward the thicket crowding the path's edge.

Between the tangled fingers of birch and alder, sunlight fractured across moving water in quick, silver flashes, bright as knife blades in the shadows.

"There," she said, gloved hand lifting to point. The leather creaked with the motion. "What's that?"

Tav didn't even turn his head. His stallion continued its steady plod forward, hooves sinking slightly into the rain-softened earth. "Stream, probably." His voice was flat, the words clipped as if each one cost him effort. "We keep moving."

A muscle jumped in Agnes's jaw. The water called to her. It wasn’t just its brightness, but the promise of it.

A chance to wash the road's dust from her throat, to press chilled fingers against her windburned cheeks.

But more than that, it was the way he refused to look, as if acknowledging even this small beauty might unravel whatever grim purpose drove him forward.

The mare shifted beneath her, sensing her hesitation. Tav was already three lengths ahead, his broad back a wall of wool and weaponry, his silence as impenetrable as the Highland mists.

Agnes clucked her tongue. "That’s no stream. That’s a waterfall."

"Agnes," he warned, already nudging his horse forward.

But she stayed where she was. "Tav. Stop. I want tae stop."

He stopped and turned, frowning. "What is it now?"

"I need tae wash up."

He blinked at her. "Here?"

"Aye."

"We’re nearly inside the bloody castle. Cannae stop now."

Tav's voice came like gravel under iron-shod boots, his gloved hands clenching the reins with white-knuckled tension.

Somewhere beyond the mist-choked trees, the fortress loomed in Agnes's imagination as clearly as if its shadow already fell across them.

She could feel its presence like a weight between her shoulder blades.

She couldn't do it. Couldn't ride those last few miles and let this—whatever fragile, unspoken thing had grown between them in the wild spaces of their journey—end with stiff formalities and averted glances.

Tav's profile was all harsh angles in the fading light, his beard-shadowed jaw set like he was already bracing for a blow. The distance between them yawned suddenly wider than the glen stretching before them, though their horses stood close enough that her stirrup brushed his boot.

"Exactly," she said and immediately swung one leg over and slid from the saddle before he could protest further.

Her boots hit the earth with a jolt that traveled up her spine, drawing a sharp little wince she refused to acknowledge.

Straightening, she brushed road dust from her skirts with quick, impatient swipes.

"Ye want me tae show up tae meet me betrothed lookin’ like I’ve been dragged backwards through the woods?"

A strand of hair had escaped her braid, clinging to her sweat-damp temple. Her sleeves were streaked with mud from the river crossing the day before, and the laces at her bodice had frayed from days of travel. She looked almost frightening.

Tav’s mouth tightened, his gaze flicking toward the distant clearing as if measuring the threat in every wasted minute. "It’s just water. It’ll be cold."

"Good." She yanked her saddlebag free with more force than necessary. "Maybe it’ll knock some o’ the sourness out o’ ye."

A muscle jumped in his jaw. "We’re wasting time."

Agnes tossed him a glance over her shoulder, as she hoisted the bag. It was half challenge, half something warmer she’d never admit to. "Then dinnae waste more standin’ there glowerin’."

She didn’t wait for a reply. Skirts gathered in one fist, she ducked into the brush, moving light and quick as a fox toward the river’s song.

Branches snagged at her sleeves; last autumn’s leaves crackled underfoot, releasing the scent of damp earth and rotting wood.

Behind her, Tav’s muttered curse carried clearly through the stillness, followed, of course, by the inevitable crunch of boots on undergrowth as he gave chase.

The waterfall wasn’t grand. It was barely more than a tumble of silver spilling down a shelf of dark stone, but the pool it fed was clear and deep enough to wade in. The light caught the surface in flashes, birds wheeled overhead, and the air was fresh with the scent of pine and moss.

Agnes dropped her pack onto a boulder near the edge. She glanced back once to make sure he was still behind her, then sat to unlace her boots.

"What are ye daein’ now?" Tav asked.

"I said I’d be bathing, didn’t I?"

He folded his arms. "Just here? In the open?"

"Dae ye see anyone else around?"

He frowned, then glanced away.

Agnes grinned. "Relax. I’ll keep me shift on. Ye can even stand guard, if it’ll soothe yer soldier’s nerves."

"We should be moving," he said again, but softer this time. Less certain.

She stood, barefoot now, and lifted her hem. "Then move along without me. I’m nae showin’ up tae a castle I’m getting married in smellin’ like horse."

She stepped into the water with a hiss and a small laugh, the cold curling around her calves. It was bracing, sharp as glass at first, but she kept going until the water reached her thighs.

Tav stayed where he was, arms crossed, mouth in a thin line. Watching.

Agnes turned, squinting at him through the sun. "Ye could join me, ye ken."

"I’m nae daft."

"Could’ve fooled me," she said sweetly.

He didn’t move.

"What? Ye afraid o’ a bit o’ cold water? Or maybe ye dinnae want tae see me wet?"

He actually flinched at that. Just a little.

Agnes smirked, stepping back until she was chest-deep, her shift floating around her like a pale ghost. Her arms rippled on the surface, trailing small waves. "Suit yerself."

There was a long pause.

Then, with a huff, Tav stepped forward and began tugging off his boots.

Agnes tried not to look too pleased. She failed spectacularly.

"I swear tae the gods," he muttered, "if I freeze tae death, I’ll haunt ye."

"Ye already haunt me," she replied, voice low, so he couldn’t hear her.

He paused mid-lace. Looked at her. For a moment, neither of them breathed. Then Tav stepped into the pool.

The water parted for him like a lover’s sigh, rising in obedient waves up the carved planes of his body.

Agnes’s breath caught. He’d kept his trousers on but the soaked fabric clung to every brutal inch of his thighs, the thick muscle there flexing as he moved.

His bare chest glistened, droplets catching in the dark trail of ink that arrowed down past his navel, disappearing beneath the waterline, where her gaze burned to follow.

She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t prepared for the way his skin would gleam like honed bronze in the sunlight, for the way his nipples pebbled under the cold’s cruel caress.

The scar across his ribs only made him more obscene, a testament to all the ways he’d survived just to stand there half-naked and dripping while her pulse thundered between her legs.

His breath caught when the cold hit him. "Bloody?—"

His shoulders flexed as he adjusted his stance, water sluicing down the ropes of his arms. She could see the exact moment the cold hit him.

His stomach muscles clenched, and he took a sharp inhale through his nose.

She wanted to press her mouth there, to lick the chill from his skin and replace it with her heat.

Agnes realized she’d been biting her lower lip.

She forced her gaze up, but it was a mistake—his eyes were dark as a stormfront, pupils blown wide.

Looking at her like he knew exactly where her thoughts had wandered.

Like he might drag her under the water and take her right here, with the current rushing over them and her back braced against the smooth rocks.

The shift floating around her suddenly felt too thin, the water too clear. She could see the way his jaw tightened when her nipples peaked against the fabric. Could see the way his broad, sword-calloused hands, twitched at his sides like he was imagining gripping her hips.

And then—he splashed her.

Agnes shrieked, water flying into her face. "Ye absolute bastard!"

Tav grinned. Grinned. It was like watching a crack spread through a block of granite. His eyes were lighter now, the tension in his jaw gone. "Ye started it."

"I didnae!"

"Ye dared me in. That counts."

She lunged forward and splashed him back, harder. Water caught him across the chest.

He blinked, wet now from forehead to sternum. Then he lunged.

They were both laughing by the time he caught her waist, and she shrieked again as he dragged her under with him.

They surfaced gasping, her hands clutching his shoulders, his hair slicked back, eyes bright.

Agnes pushed at his chest. "Ye madman!"

Tav didn’t let go.

Their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them. Her shift clung to her skin, transparent in parts. His chest was heaving. Every inch of her pressed lightly against him.

She should have moved. She should have said something sharp, pushed away, made light of it. But she didn’t and he looked at her like she was the only thing left in the world worth fighting for. And gods help her, she wanted to drown in it.

Finally, Tav spoke, voice low. "Ye drive me insane."

Agnes stared at him, "That’s mutual."

Then, to cover the fact her heart had just flipped inside out, she splashed him in the face again. He gasped and laughed, pulling her under again with him, both of them breaking the surface in another fit of laughter.

For now, the castle was miles away. And in the waterfall’s rush, they could pretend they weren’t about to break.