Page 20 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
“Och, what have I done?” she whispered, her hands twisting together as though in prayer. She had nearly given her life to God, and now she feared her thoughts to be wicked.
Yet her heart told her a different truth, one that unsettled her all the more. Bradley was not the brute she had first believed, not the cold laird with steel in his veins. He had shown her care,gentleness hidden beneath his rough words and fierce eyes. That kiss had not been cruel; it had been a claim.
Still, guilt pressed heavily upon her soul. She thought of the convent, of the vows she had almost taken, and wondered if she was now beyond redemption.
“I shouldnae be feelin’ such things,” she murmured, brushing her fingers across a rosebud as if seeking forgiveness. The garden stood silent around her, offering no answer but the soft rustle of leaves. Laura lowered her head, torn between duty and the wild stirrings of her heart.
When Cora’s familiar figure appeared from the stone path, Laura forced a weak smile, though her heart was not in it.
Cora paused, her keen eyes studying Laura’s face with gentle concern. “Ye seem a bit out of sorts, lass,” she said softly, stepping closer as though wary of intruding too far. Her hands folded neatly before her, and her voice carried a sisterly warmth. “Has somethin’ troubled ye?”
Laura’s smile faltered, her gaze dropping to the blossoms at her side.
“Aye,” she admitted in a low voice, “I’m feelin’ nae quite meself these days.” She tugged lightly at her sleeve, uncertain whether to speak further, yet knowing Cora would not be easily fooled by half-truths.
“What is it then, lass?” Cora pressed, her tone kind but steady. “Ye can speak plainly with me. I’ll nae think ill of ye.” Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head as if urging the truth from Laura’s lips.
Laura sighed, her chest tightening as the words finally escaped.
“I’ve come to see that Bradley isnae the brute I thought him to be,” she confessed, her cheeks warming at the admission. “He cares deeply for his folk, and even for me, though he hides it beneath his hard ways. Still, I feel torn, for I nearly took vows as a nun, and now me thoughts and feelings shame me.”
Cora’s eyes softened with understanding as she laid a gentle hand on Laura’s arm.
“Och, lass, there’s nay shame in followin’ yer heart.” Her voice held the weight of certainty, though her smile remained tender.
“What ye feel is nae sinful. Ye’re wed. God Himself honors such a bond.”
Laura shook her head, tears stinging her eyes though she fought to hold them back.
“But what if I betray the vows I once intended to take? I feel an attraction to him that I cannae deny, yet I fear I’m bein’ immoral. It feels as though I’m torn between two worlds, me duty to God and me vow to Bradley.”
Cora gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, her expression thoughtful but unwavering.
“Hear me, Laura, marriage is a sacred vow before God, just as holy as the one ye nearly made in the convent. Ye didnae betray Him by honorin’ the bond ye share with yer husband. In truth, ye honor both God and yerself by standin’ by the vow ye did make.”
Laura blinked at her, the words striking a chord deep within her soul. “Ye truly believe so?” she asked, her voice trembling, caught between hope and doubt. “That I’m nae betrayin’ Him if I love Bradley as a wife should?”
“Aye, I believe it with all me heart,” Cora replied firmly. “Ye’ve bound yerself to Bradley before God and man, and nay priest nor nun would tell ye otherwise. Love him freely, lass, for that love is sanctified.”
Laura’s heart eased, though the weight of her inner struggle did not vanish entirely. “Thank ye, Cora,” she murmured, managing a soft smile at last. “Yer words have given me much to think on. Perhaps a walk through the garden will help me sort me thoughts.”
Cora nodded approvingly, her smile warm as the morning sun. “Take yer walk, lass. Let yer heart settle in its own time, and ye’ll ken what’s right. I trust ye’ll find the peace ye’re seekin’.”
Laura watched her friend depart down the path, her spirit touched by the kindness she had shown. Alone once more, she turned deeper into the garden, her mind stirring with both doubtand new resolve. Though she had not yet found her answer, she carried Cora’s words close, like a small flame in the dark. With every step, she prayed clarity would come, and her heart would finally find its rest.
After the garden, she returned inside. Laura paced across the stone floor of the sitting room, her skirts brushing against the carpet as she wrung her hands. The chamber she shared with Bradley was vast, divided into two rooms, the sitting room and the bedroom, yet even in its size, she felt trapped within her own restless thoughts. Her eyes fell upon the desk near the window, and with a determined breath, she moved to rummage through it. She found ink and parchment and decided that writing was the only way she could untangle the storm inside her.
She dipped the quill and began to write, her hand trembling at first before settling into steady lines. Words poured forth in verses of longing, guilt, and hope, her poetry capturing the battle she could not speak aloud. Each phrase confessed the shame of her desires and the conflict she bore between duty and heart. The room grew quiet except for the scratch of the quill, her thoughts spilling freely onto the page.
Time slipped away until she noticed the shadows across the walls. Setting down the quill, she gathered the pages together, her heart lighter though still uncertain. She left them on the table as she crossed into the bedchamber, readying herself for the night. With careful hands, she loosened her gown and pulled on her nightdress, her hair tumbling free around her shoulders.
When she returned to the sitting room, her breath caught in her throat. Bradley stood there, tall and broad, the lamplight casting golden shadows over him as he held her poetry in his hands. His eyes skimmed the lines with surprising focus, his lips set in thought. For a moment, she froze in the doorway, a jolt of panic racing through her veins.
“Put that down now!” Laura cried, her voice sharper than she intended.
Her cheeks burned as she strode toward him, her hands outstretched in protest. The thought of his reading such private words was unbearable. She wished the floor would swallow her whole.
Bradley looked up, a faint glimmer of amusement tugging at his mouth.
