Page 43

CHAPTER THIRTY

T he road home was golden with light.

Agnes sat in front of Tav, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist as their horse carried them at a steady pace.

The breeze played through her hair, lifting strands from her cheeks, and the scent of earth and wildflowers filled the air.

Every part of her ached, but it was the kind of ache that came after the fear, after the fight.

The kind that reminded her she was alive. They were alive.

Tav’s chin brushed the top of her head, and she felt the quiet rhythm of his breath against her spine. He hadn't let go since the moment he’d found her, and she hadn’t wanted him to. His hold was sure, solid. Not desperate anymore, but almost disbelieving.

They were going home.

Agnes leaned back into his chest and let her eyes fall shut for a heartbeat. For the first time in what felt like forever, her body relaxed and the silence felt warm and peaceful

A laugh escaped her. Soft, startled. She turned her head slightly. “I think I forgot what it felt like tae breathe without fear.”

Tav’s arms tightened. “Then I’ll keep remindin’ ye. Every day, if I must.”

She looked down at his hand resting over hers. “I kept thinkin’ about this. Just… us. Being like this. I didn’t dare hope too much.”

He pressed a kiss into her temple. “Ye should have.”

The castle crested into view, rising from the hills like a promise kept. Agnes straightened a little in the saddle, smiling wide and sudden. “There it is,” she whispered.

“Aye,” Tav said, his voice rough with something unspoken. “We made it.”

They dismounted together. Agnes stumbled as her boots met the earth, but Tav caught her instantly, both hands at her waist to keep her steady.

She laughed again, fuller this time, tipping her head up to meet his gaze. “I’m alright,” she said. “Truly.”

He looked at her for a long moment, like he was memorizing her face all over again.

"I ken ye are," Tav murmured, brushing his knuckles lightly over her sleeve. "But let me help anyway."

A soft beat passed. Then she nodded. And for a moment, standing there in the quiet, she felt steadier.

Paisley was waiting at the castle gates. Her face crumpled when she saw Agnes, and in that moment, all of Agnes’s resolve wavered. She hadn’t cried during the ride, hadn’t let herself fully feel anything but the weight of Tav’s arms around her. But now, seeing Paisley her heart overflowed.

Agnes felt the ache bloom in her chest before the tears could come. It wasn’t pain, not exactly. It was something deeper. A wave of grief and relief rolled into one. She was alive, but she wasn’t the same person anymore.

Paisley rushed forward without a word and caught her in a tight embrace, holding her upright when her knees nearly gave out. Agnes buried her face in the girl’s shoulder.

Paisley brought her to her chamber. The fire was already lit. A bath steamed in the corner, waiting.

Paisley helped her undress, her hands trembling, her voice quiet. Agnes saw the bruises in the mirror. Faint purpled maps along her arms and ribs. A split lip. A scrape near her temple. She didn’t remember how half of them had got there.

"I’m sorry," Paisley whispered, knelt beside the tub, washing gently at her back. "I should’ve kent. I should’ve stayed closer. "

"Ye couldnae have," Agnes murmured. Her voice cracked on the last word.

Paisley’s eyes filled.

Agnes turned, reaching to grip her friend’s wrist. "Dinnae. Please."

The bathwater had long gone lukewarm, but Agnes didn’t mind. She sat quietly as Paisley worked, letting the gentle rhythm of the cloth against her skin erase what it could. The dirt, the grime of what she’d survived—it all lifted, piece by piece. She had made it through.

Later, dressed in clean linens, her hair damp and combed smooth, she studied her reflection in the mirror. There were shadows under her eyes and a small cut along her collarbone, but her gaze was steady. She didn’t look hollow. Just changed. Tempered, maybe. Stronger than she’d ever known.

And as she looked, her thoughts drifted to Tav and the truth of it all.

She still couldn’t quite believe it. That someone so good, so kind and fiercely loyal, could have come from him . From all that rot and ruin. But maybe that was the miracle of it.

Maybe love didn’t just survive darkness—it defied it.

She gave her reflection a small nod, to honor it. She had lived through it. And now, she would live past it.

A knock at the door broke the silence.

"Agnes?"

Her father’s voice. She turned quickly.

"Come in."

Ewan Kerr stepped into the room, and for a moment he didn’t move—he just stared. “Agnes,” he breathed. His voice was thick, unsteady. “God above, lass…”

He crossed the room in two strides and, as if he couldn’t bear the distance between them. His hand hovered at her cheek, afraid to touch. “When I saw ye like that—tied, bloodied—I’ve never known fear like it. Never.”

She reached for him, and he caught her in his arms, holding her close but gentle, like he was afraid she might break. Agnes stiffened for just a heartbeat—then melted into him.

“I’m so glad ye’re here,” she whispered. Her voice cracked on the last word. “So glad.”

They held each other like that for a long moment—father and daughter, and the weight of love.

At last, she pulled back slightly. “What happened? Outside… the battle?”

Ewan’s brow furrowed, then softened. “We won,” he said simply. “Caithness led the charge after Tav went in. Armstrong’s men didnae stand a chance once the line broke. They tried tae scatter, but our riders were waitin’. We took the camp. Clean and full.”

She exhaled, a sound somewhere between disbelief and release. “It’s over then.”

“Aye.” He cupped her face gently. “It’s over.”

Agnes leaned into his touch, grateful down to her bones—not just that the war was done, but that her father was there. That she could still find comfort in his arms, after everything.

“I was so afraid,” he murmured, his hand still at the back of her head. “I should’ve kept ye safe.”

She shook her head, tears brimming. “Ye came,” she said. “That’s all that matters.”

He held her a moment longer, his hand brushing gently down her hair. “There’s nay place else I’d rather be,” he murmured. “I was scared, lass. I’ve never been so scared in me life.”

Agnes pulled back just enough to see his face, and there it was, plain as daylight. The guilt. The relief. The love. She swallowed hard, her throat tight.

“I kent ye’d come,” she said, tears burning her lashes.

“Aye, but I’ll never fergive myself fer nae gettin’ there sooner,” he replied, voice low. “If he’d hurt ye worse?—”

“But he didn’t,” she interrupted gently. “And I’m here. Because o’ ye and Tav.”

He nodded, jaw clenched, eyes shimmering. Then he took a breath and stepped back slightly. “Caithness wants tae see us,” he said. “Said it was important.”

She blinked. "Now? What daes he want?"

He offered a shrug that wasn’t really a shrug. "He just said it was important."

They walked the corridors in silence. The castle was subdued, as if holding its breath after war. Even the guards stood quieter.

When they reached the study, the door stood open.

Tav was already inside.

He stood by the fire, dressed and clean. The gash at his temple had been cared for. His shoulders were set, but his eyes softened the moment they found hers. They were the color of storms over sea.

She smiled at him.

Laird Caithness gestured them in. "Thank ye all fer comin’. Have a seat."

She and her father sat. Tav remained standing.

Caithness folded his hands. "I’ve given our betrothal a great deal of thought," he began, looking at her. His voice was quiet, measured. "And I cannae go forward with it."

Agnes blinked. "What?"

"Nae because o' what happened," he added quickly. "But because ye’re nae mine tae take."

Agnes blinked again, slower this time. Her heart kicked hard against her ribs, and for a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

""What—what daes that mean?" she asked, her voice cracking at the edges.

Caithness turned to her, the faintest smile in his eyes. "It means, lass, that I believe there is another soon-tae-be laird already waitin' fer yer hand."

She looked at Tav, then her father, then back again. Her chest rose and fell too fast, her fingers curling against the fabric of her skirt. Agnes blinked, startled by the sudden turn, but this time it wasn’t from fear or confusion. It was disbelief, radiant and breathless.

Caithness gave a quiet smile, warm and resolute. “Ye’re free, Agnes. I won’t hold ye tae a promise made in war. Nae when yer heart’s already spoken fer.”

Her eyes stung, and for once it wasn’t from pain. She stepped toward Caithness without hesitation, reaching for his hand. “Are ye sure?” she asked, voice thick with emotion. “After all ye did… all ye risked?—”

“I’m sure,” he said gently. “Ye were never mine tae keep.”

She gripped his hand tighter, eyes searching his face. “Thank ye. Truly. Ye’ve been naethin’ but kind tae me. I’ll never forget it.”

Caithness gave a quiet huff of a laugh. “Dinnae go gettin’ sentimental on me now.”

Agnes smiled through the tears. “I’m serious. Any lass would be lucky tae have ye. And I ken one day, ye’ll find her. Someone strong and good, just like ye.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. “If she’s even half as strong as ye, I’ll be happy.”

She laughed, soft and real, and then turned to look at her father, who gave her a slight nod of acquiescence, and then to Tav, eyes shining. She didn’t need any more explanations. She already knew everything she needed to. And this time, there was nothing in the way.

“Well then,” she said, tilting her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Guess I’ll have tae get used tae callin’ ye me laird no w.”

Tav flushed, just slightly, "I never wanted it. I still dinnae. But until his child is born, the clans want me tae lead. I’m the only heir. Fer now."