Page 6 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Alan laughed softly, shaking his head. “Aye, Laird, it’ll take time, but they’ll fall in line, mark me words. Clan McCormack respects strength, and ye’ve shown them plenty of that, even afore the bindin’ with our new Lady.” He took a long drink from his mug, the liquid sloshing against the rim as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Bradley’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. “Aye, I ken that,” he said, his tone clipped. “But ye ken as well as I that strength alone is nae enough.” He lowered his voice with a glance toward Laura, making sure she was still occupied with the child before speaking again. “An heir… an heir will solidify me place, make me word to be the law of the land and in every hall and hearth.”
Alan tilted his head, his grin sly now as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Och aye, I ken that, Laird. A son will tie the clan to ye in ways a sword or threat cannae. Folk respect bloodlines more than brute force, though ye’ll nae lack for that either.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice with mock secrecy. “Still, ye’ve a fierce bride, Bradley. Laura Gilmour… she’s bonnie, aye.”
Bradley’s eyes darkened, a shadow passing across his expression. “She’s clever and stubborn, aye, stubborn enough tocause a battle with me yet. She’ll learn her place soon enough, as all do. But I’ll be watchful. I’ll nae have a weak line of heirs, nor a wife who undermines the McCormack name.”
Alan chuckled, shaking his head once more. “Aye, I daenae doubt it, Laird. Ye’ve the steel for it, just as ye had the steel to claim this keep and bind Laura to ye. Clan may whisper, but nay one will dare stand against ye long.” His eyes gleamed with mischief, though the loyalty beneath was clear.
“Still,” he added with a grin, “keep yer wits about ye. Yer rule is new and there might be those to challenge ye.”
Bradley leaned back in his chair, letting a slow breath escape him. The clan would bend, as Alan said, but it would take careful patience. Strength alone had brought him this far, but cunning and foresight would keep him in place. And an heir, born of this forced union, would seal his authority beyond question, binding the McCormack name into the future he intended to control.
He glanced once more at Laura as the child skipped away. She turned back to her plate and sipped from a goblet. Bradley’s jaw tightened at the sight of her blush, a strange stir in his chest that he did not acknowledge aloud. She was bonnie, clever, and stubborn, yet she would serve her purpose in time. And so long as she bore an heir, the clan would have no choice but to follow, and Bradley would remain Laird without question.
Bradley stood up and moved among the tables, his dark eyes scanning the clan as they celebrated their new Laird and his bride. Despite the merriment, his mind remained focused,calculating, watching for whispers or movements that might challenge his authority.
Caleb, a stout councilman with a careful manner, slipped through the crowd and fell into step beside him. “Laird,” he began, his voice low, “congratulations on yer bonnie bride. She’s a fine lass, a sight to please the eye and honor the McCormack name.”
Bradley inclined his head slightly, his expression neutral. “Aye,” he said, voice clipped. He kept his eyes sharp on Caleb, suspicion threading through his thoughts.
Caleb’s brows lifted, but his voice remained steady. “Now that ye have a bride, we should expect an heir soon enough.”
Bradley’s jaw tightened, a dark thought flashing through his mind. He would need to make a show of the wedding night, a display to convince the clan he honored their request for an heir, even though he had no intention of touching Laura beyond what necessity demanded.
“Aye,” he said slowly, letting his gaze sweep the hall. “An heir… the clan’s desire is noted.”
Caleb gave a nod of understanding, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, then fell back into the throng. Bradley turned his attention to the dancing, the clatter of feet, and the fiddles’ wailing filling the air. He spotted Laura standing apart from the dancers, her hands folded in front of her, watching the hall with a mixture ofcaution and disdain. She did not smile, did not attempt to join the revelry, and Bradley’s mind turned to her intentions.
He approached her, keeping his movements controlled, his presence commanding. “Lass,” he said, voice low, “ye daenae want to dance with the rest?”
Laura lifted her chin, her dark eyes sharp and unflinching. “I am nae here to dance, Bradley Knox. I am here to ensure the Abbey remains untouched.”
Bradley’s lips curved into a half-smirk, a spark of amusement glinting in his eyes. “Aye? And ye think standin’ there in yer finery will protect it?”
She met his gaze steadily, her voice unwavering. “Aye. I have nay choice but to comply with yer… marriage, but ye’ll touch nary a stone of Caledon Abbey while I live.”
He let out a low laugh, the sound dark and smooth, his fingers brushing the hilt of his dagger almost unconsciously. “Bold words, lass. Yet ye’ll learn soon enough that a laird’s word and his will are as strong as any stone in yer Abbey.”
Laura’s eyes narrowed, her jaw firm. “I daenae care for yer power, nor will I bow to it beyond necessity. I am bound by duty, yes, but nay heart of mine will yield to fear or charm.”
Bradley studied her a moment longer, noting the fire in her gaze, and found himself amused despite the situation.
She was clever, bold, and stubborn; it was not what he expected, yet everything that made her unpredictable. For now, he would bide his time, letting her assert herself while he maintained the show the clan expected.
“Daenae drink too much, lass,” he said, voice low and clipped. “It’ll be a long night, and ye’ll need yer senses about ye.”
Laura lifted a brow. “Daenae tell me what to do, Bradley Knox. I ken me limits better than ye do.”
He scowled, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “Aye? And yet here ye sit, pale as a ghost and tremblin’ with that stubborn fire of yours. Ye make it difficult to keep patience, I’ll have ye ken.”
Laura smirked, tilting her chin. “Patience is nae one of yer virtues, is it, Laird? Or did ye leave it behind in yer kirk with the vows?”
Bradley’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes narrowing, though a flicker of amusement crossed his features. “Watch yer tongue, lass, lest I find it as unruly as yer stubborn heart. I daenae suffer fools lightly.”
Her lips curved into a sly grin. “Then ye’ll have plenty of practice with me, I wager.”
Bradley’s eyes darkened further, a low growl slipping from his chest. “Enough of words. Ye’ve had yer entertainment. Now… it’s time to do yer duties, wife.”
