Page 37

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A gnes had to get out. She couldn’t stay there. Not one more minute.

I have tae tell him.

Her slippers whispered against the stone floor, every step a little uneven.

It was late. The sconces burned low, barely more than a flicker against the cold stone, and the corridor pressed against Agnes’ skin like mist, clinging and intrusive.

Her breath fogged faintly as she walked, but inside her, everything was burning.

She didn’t know what she was doing. Only that she had to keep walking in the dim hall, towards Tav’s room.

She knew that if she waited any longer, the thing inside her—that restless ache that had followed her all day—would eat her alive.

It lived behind her ribs, pulsing with every breath, every thought, every memory of his mouth on hers.

Her skirts swayed around her ankles as she walked, brisk and uncertain. She practiced the words in her head like a prayer, over and over, until they lost meaning.

But then?—

Her heart stopped when she saw him. Tav stood in the corridor just ahead, walking with purpose toward her. They both froze when they saw each other and neither of them spoke for a long moment.

His hair was still damp from a wash, curling faintly at the ends. His eyes were tired but alert, locked on her like she was the only thing holding him to the floor.

"I was coming tae find ye," he said.

"So was I," she replied, too quickly.

Tav lowered his hand and stepped back slightly, giving her space, but not too much. "May I talk?"

She hesitated. Then nodded. He back to let her walk beside him. They moved in silence, their shoulders nearly brushing, each step echoing too loudly in the hush of the hall. Agnes kept her eyes ahead, but she could feel the tension between them like a taut thread, waiting to snap.

When they reached her door, she paused with her hand on the latch. For a moment, she thought of turning back. But Tav was there, solid and silent, and the weight of what they hadn’t said yet hung between them. She pushed the door open.

Her room felt different with him in it.

"Ye left awfully fast," he said quietly.

"I had tae. I needed tae think."

"Did ye?" he raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to tell him more.

His tone wasn’t angry. Not even wounded. Just... unsure. Like he was giving her room to answer honestly.

Agnes swallowed. Her throat was dry again.

"Aye."

A beat passed. She could hear the fire behind her crackling faintly, the way silence seemed to hold its breath around them.

"I was… afraid," she added, barely audible.

Tav’s face didn’t change much. But his shoulders eased, just slightly, like her honesty had allowed him to exhale for the first time in hours.

He nodded once. “Me too.”

The words hit her like a gust to the chest. Not just because he’d said them, but because of how much they cost him. That he’d admit fear at all. That he would meet her here, halfway, without armor or deflection.

He stepped closer. "Agnes, what are we daein’?" he asked softly.

She looked away, down at her hands. They were trembling again.

"That’s why I was coming tae find ye," she said.

"Tae end it," he guessed.

She met his eyes again. God, the way he was looking at her with his eyes wide open, like she was the only thing in the world he had no armor for.

She met his eyes again. "Aye."

A breath passed. Hers or his, she couldn’t tell. It could have been both.

"Because o’ Caithness?"

"Because o’ everything."

Tav stepped closer. Her breath caught again. It felt like there was never enough air when he was close, like the room was built too small for both of them.

"Agnes, ye cannae tell me that kiss meant naething."

"It didnae," she whispered. "That’s the problem."

She turned away from him, toward the fire, her arms crossed tight. Her chest hurt. It physically hurt, like something inside her was trying to pull away from her ribs. Her breathing became short and shallow.

"I cannae dae this, Tav. I cannae keep lettin’ this grow between us when I already ken I cannae have it."

"Why nae?"

"Because I’m betrothed." Her voice cracked. "Because I gave me word. Because if I keep letting this go on, I’ll stop caring about what it costs."

Tav was silent for a moment. Then, "Dae ye care now?"

Agnes turned slowly. "O’ course I dae."

He stepped closer. Close enough that she could see the uneven breath in his chest.

"Then why dae I get the feelin' that yer afraid nae o’ the cost—but o’ how badly ye want it, regardless?"

That hit too close. Too sharply. She bit the inside of her cheek. "Dinnae make this about me weakness."

"It’s nae weakness," he said firmly. "It’s want. It’s love. It’s bein' human. Ye think I dinnae feel ashamed? Dinnae look at meself and think I’m nae enough fer ye? Because I dae. Every single moment that passes… I ken I’m nae good fer ye."

She stilled. Something cracked at the edges of her composure.

"I’ve spent me whole life feeling like I was just barely tolerated," Tav went on, voice thick now. "I was too loud, too angry, too soft where I should’ve been hard. I was never enough. And now, when I look at ye, I think maybe... maybe I could be. Fer ye. Only fer ye. Ye make me want tae be."

Her breath hitched. She took a step back but her heel hit the edge of the rug and she wavered. He caught her wrist.

"Agnes," he said, low and rough. "I dinnae want tae ruin yer life. I just... I want tae be worthy of it. If ye let me, I’ll spend the rest of me days trying."

Her eyes burned. She pulled her hand back. "It daesnae matter what we want."

"It daes."

"Tav—"

"Tell me ye dinnae want me. Tell me that, and I’ll leave. I swear it."

She opened her mouth. Closed it.

"Tell me," he said again, softer now.

She couldn’t. The air between them changed, grew thicker.

She could see every line of his face, the small scar near his temple, the way his jaw was clenched like he was holding himself back from something feral. The storm behind his eyes.

Her own breath was coming faster now.

Tav took a step closer.

"I dream about ye," he said. "Even when I’m awake."

Her throat tightened. Her entire body ached with the effort of restraint. There was nothing in the world but him and her and the firelight flickering between them.

"I wish I didnae feel this way," she whispered. "I wish I could forget what it feels like tae want ye."

He reached for her then, slowly, like giving her the chance to step away. She didn’t. His hand brushed hers. And she didn’t move away.

"Then dinnae forget," he murmured.

She met his gaze, something raw and dangerous twisting in her belly. There were tears behind her eyes, born out of hunger and desperation. She wanted to run. She wanted to stay. She wanted to destroy everything and start again with only him.

Agnes didn’t remember moving. Only the rush.

The heat. The sound of her own breath in her ears as she leaned in and kissed him.

There was no hesitation this time. Her mouth found his and the world narrowed to the taste of his warm, urgent, familiar lips, in a way that made her dizzy.

He caught her waist, breath stuttering, and pulled her closer like he’d been waiting for it as long as she had.

His hands spanned her waist, then slid up, reverent and unsure at once. He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, "Are ye sure?"

Agnes nodded.

“Aye,” she breathed, already leaning back into him. “I need—I need ye. Now.”

His exhale was almost a groan. Like he didn’t believe it.

She kissed him again, harder this time, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt. The fire roared behind them but she was the one burning. He pressed her gently backward until her hips met the edge of the bed.

Still, he paused. His forehead leaned into hers. “Tell me if ye want me tae stop.”

She shook her head. “Please dinnae stop.”

Then she kissed him again and fell back onto the bed, pulling him with her. His weight settled over her slowly, carefully, and she arched into him without thinking. Her body was already making choices her mind couldn’t catch up to.

They kissed until her lips felt swollen, until her legs parted of their own accord and his hips settled between them.

When he reached for the laces at the back of her gown, his hands shook. She felt it.

“Let me,” she whispered, and sat up just long enough to wriggle out of it, breathless, clumsy, laughing softly when the sleeve caught on her wrist.

Tav kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, the curve where her neck met her chest, as she undressed.

Each kiss left her gasping, eyes fluttering closed.

She was half-naked by the time he laid her back down, and fully burning.

Her chemise was thin and damp with sweat, sticking to her skin.

He looked at her like she was something sacred.

“Ye’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Her fingers found the hem of his shirt. “Take it off.”

He slid it over her in one swift motion, making her breath catch. Then he removed his tunic, exposing his broad chest. She ran her hands over it like she could memorize it.

“I’ve never…” she began, then stopped.

He stilled.

“I ken,” he said gently. “I’ll go slow.”

She nodded. Then reached for him.

The last of her clothes were gone in moments, and she was bare under him, flushed and open and shaking. He kissed every inch of her skin he could reach, moving slow even when the tremble in his limbs said he didn’t want to.

Her legs fell open for him naturally, instinctively. When he slid his fingers between her thighs and felt how wet she was, he let out a sigh.

“Gods,” he whispered. “Agnes.”

She whimpered. She hadn’t expected how much she would need him. How urgent it would feel. She was already arching into him when he moved to line himself up.

His eyes searched hers. “Ye’re sure?”

She lifted her hips. “Tav,” she gasped. “Please.”

When he pressed inside her, she gasped from the fullness of it. From the impossible, unbearable stretch of the feeling of him inside her.

He stopped immediately, kissing her cheek, her jaw.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, even as her nails dug into his back. “Dinnae stop. Please.”

He moved slowly. So slowly. Letting her adjust. Letting her pull him deeper, inch by inch.

And then he was fully inside her.

The fullness of it stole her breath. It wasn’t just the stretch of him, the unfamiliar pressure, but the way it made everything else fall away.

Like she was being reshaped from the inside out.

Her heart beat in her ears, fast and panicked and alive.

There was a moment where she thought she might cry, not from pain but from the terrifying intimacy of it.

She had never been seen like this. Never been claimed like this.

Never let someone so close that it felt like her body and soul blurred at the edges.

They were still for a moment.

Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her thighs trembled against his hips.

She clung to his shoulders like she might fall through the mattress if she let go.

He was holding himself above her, one hand cupping her cheek, his forehead pressed to hers, whispering her name like it was a question and an answer all at once.

Then he moved.

She cried out softly, clutching him to her. It hurt. But it also didn’t.

“I’ve got ye,” he whispered. “I’ve got ye.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to her like she couldn’t stand any space between them.

Her legs circled his waist, ankles locking as if to hold him in place.

Her body met his with growing urgency, hips tilting up to receive him again and again, the motion desperate, instinctive.

Each thrust sent a ripple of heat through her, the pressure building fast, wild, uncontrollable.

They moved together in a rhythm older than language, primal and sacred all at once.

Every shift of his hips dragged a gasp from her throat, every deep stroke making her feel fuller, tighter, like she was being undone from the inside out.

The stretch had become pleasure, sharp and sweet, burning under her skin in waves that made her whole body arch into him.

“Agnes,” he whispered her name like a prayer against her ear, over and over, voice ragged, reverent.

His mouth found her throat, his lips brushing the soft skin there before dragging open-mouthed kisses down to her nipples. She broke every time he kissed her there, her gasps turning to cries, fingernails digging into the muscles of his back as her body shuddered around him.

The tension inside her coiled tighter, sharper.

She was close. So close. And then—when she came, it was sudden, a white-hot bloom that started low and spread like fire.

Her whole body clenched around him as she cried out his name, voice shaking, hands fisting in his hair.

She felt herself unravel in his arms, and every thought burned away, every boundary breached.

And he was still moving, chasing the edge with her, teeth gritted, breath harsh against her skin.

He followed moments later, burying his face in her neck with a groan, holding her like she was the last real thing in the world. They lay tangled, sweating, trembling, his heart pounding against hers.

Agnes stared at the ceiling. There was no going back to Caithness now.

Tears pricked her eyes. She knew it was selfish. But as Tav pulled the blanket over them and kissed her temple, she knew she would never go back.

She just didn’t know what it would cost.