Page 19 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Laura wiped her palms on her skirt, a flush rising to her cheeks, and gave him a small nod. He offered a brief, approving smile before leading her toward a row of other horses tethered along the stable fence.
“These are the younger ones, nae yet tamed fully,” Bradley explained, gesturing to a brown mare that stamped her hoof nervously.
“Ye’ll nae need to fear them, just be calm and speak softly.”
Laura hesitated a moment, then reached out cautiously, running her hand along the mare’s neck. The horse shifted, sniffingher fingers, and she let out a small laugh, startled at her own courage.
Bradley stood beside her, calm and patient. “See? They ken fear, but they also ken gentleness. Treat them with respect, and they’ll follow ye willingly,” he said, watching her closely.
Laura took a deep breath, tilting her head to watch the horse’s eyes. Bradley watched and felt a spark of pride that she wasn’t pulling away.
He led her along the line of horses, showing her which ones were more skittish and which were steady.
“Observe their temperaments, lass. A laird must ken his mounts as well as his men,” he said, his voice firm but patient.
Laura nodded, stroking the neck of a dark chestnut colt as it whinnied softly.
Bradley’s eyes lingered on her, noting how she moved with caution yet growing confidence, and a small, unrecognizable stir rose within him.
Bradley watched Laura carefully as she spoke, her hands trembling slightly as she recounted her fear of horses.
“Me faither… he threw me off a horse once, when I was wee. He did it to punish me,” she admitted, her voice soft but edged with lingering pain.
Her dark eyes flicked down to the ground, and she let out a shuddering breath. “I wished then… I wished he’d faced some punishment for it.”
Bradley’s jaw tightened, and his black eyes darkened.
“By God, lass,” he growled, “if I’d been there… he would’ve regretted it.”
Laura looked up at him. She shook her head slowly, her lips trembling as she spoke, “Nay… I daenae wish him harm any longer. He’ll face his punishment in the afterlife.”
Bradley’s fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his forearms straining beneath his shirt. He felt an unsteady heat rise in his chest, a mix of protectiveness and righteous anger that he could hardly control. His eyes burned as he stared at the ground between them, wishing he could undo the cruelty Laura had suffered. The thought struck him sharply, almost painfully.
I will punish her faither meself, make him pay for what he has done to her.
He forced himself to breathe, trying to temper the storm of anger that churned within him. Bradley knew he could not speak of his intentions aloud; such a declaration might frighten Laura further.
But the thought seared in his mind, vivid and unyielding: her father had harmed her, and the reckoning would not go unmade.As he watched her, tender and strong despite everything, he silently vowed that the man who had caused her pain would answer for it, in whatever way he could ensure.
As Bradley walked beside Laura on the narrow path that wound back toward the castle, the stone walls loomed larger with each step. The wind was sharp, carrying the scent of hay and rain-soaked earth, but he barely noticed.
His gaze kept straying to her, to the way she held herself with quiet strength despite all that had been done to her. Something fierce burned in his chest, an unfamiliar protectiveness that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
The thought of another man’s hand upon her filled him with a dark heat, one that demanded action. He stopped, his voice rough when he spoke.
“Nay one can touch ye, lass. Ye’re mine. Anyone who hurts ye will be punished.” The words left him harder than he intended, raw and unpolished, yet they carried the truth of what he felt deep in his bones. His hand found her arm before he thought better of it, his grip both firm and claiming.
Laura looked up at him, her eyes wide and startled, and the flicker of fear in them stabbed at him. Still, she did not shrink from his touch, though her voice trembled when she answered.
“I… ye speak fiercely, Bradley, yet I ken the cruelty that’s been done me. I daenae wish it returned by yer hand.” Her confessionstirred him with both guilt and need, as if her words unlocked something dangerous inside him.
Without thought, he pulled her closer, the urge to silence her doubts with something stronger than words taking hold. His mouth came down on hers, the kiss quick and fierce, more claim than comfort. It was no gentle caress but a searing mark, a promise and a warning in one. The taste of her lingered as his hands stayed at her waist, grounding him in the certainty that she belonged to him and no other.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next day, Laura wandered the castle gardens, her steps slow and uncertain upon the damp earth. The roses, though still budding, gave the air a faint sweetness that did little to ease her troubled mind. She had avoided Bradley all morning, slipping from the hall before he could seek her out. The memory of his kiss clung to her lips like a fire she could not quench.
Her cheeks flushed as she thought about it, shame curling within her chest. She had felt more than she dared admit, a heat that both frightened and thrilled her.
