Page 71 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
He tried to quiet the thought.
I need to steel me heart to be the Laird who makes hard choices for the good of the clan.
Bradley rose abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. He moved toward his decanter, longing for the warmth of whisky to dull the storm in his chest. He twisted the stopper from the glass, only to find it empty. A low, guttural curse slipped from his lips.
“Blast it all to hell,” he muttered, slamming the decanter back down. The empty vessel seemed to mock him, an echo of the emptiness he felt without her.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the room, every step heavy with frustration. The Laird, who could command armies and hold dominion over lands, was powerless against the longing in his heart.
Finally, with a growl, he turned from the useless decanter. He strode toward the stairs, the boards creaking beneath his boots.
“Move,” he growled at the servant that hindered his path.
The servant scurried to the side and bowed his head.
By the time he reached the kitchen, Bradley’s jaw was set, his eyes dark and brooding. The smell of roasting meat and simmering broth reached him, but he barely noticed.
I will find the whisky, and drink until the thought of Laura is subdued, at least for a little while.
The Laird raised the glass to his lips, swallowing the burn of the whisky as he stared into the flickering shadows of the kitchen hearth.
Bradley stepped out of the kitchen’s side door. He lowered himself onto the long outdoor table, the rough wood biting intohis knees. He took a long, burning swig. The liquid coursed down his throat, warming him briefly.
A sudden whining noise broke through his brooding, soft and insistent. Bradley’s head shot up, eyes narrowing as he looked around. There, at his side, was the pup, Angus, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
“Where did ye come from, ye wee devil?” he exclaimed, shock and a hint of amusement breaking through his gloom.
From the shadows, Cora appeared, her hands clasped nervously, eyes apologetic.
“Me Laird, I beg yer pardon,” she said softly. “The pup… he got away from me.”
Bradley’s brows furrowed. He looked at the small black creature and remembered Laura’s attachment to the pup.
“He’s nae with her?” he asked, realization dawning in his voice.
“Nay, me Laird,” Cora replied. “Lady Laura made me promise to look after him. She wished him to stay in yer chambers, but I thought it best to take him to me own quarters, seein’ as ye are busy with the Laird’s duties.”
Bradley’s chest sank, the weight of her absence pressing on him once more.
“The poor pup,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “If it was Laura’s wish… then I’ll do it. I’ll see to him meself.”
Cora blinked in surprise.
“Aye, me Laird?” She asked softly.
“Leave him with me. I’ll see to him,” he said.
“As ye wish.” She curtsied and then turned and walked away, leaving Bradley and Angus alone in the chilly night air.
Bradley looked down at the pup, who wagged his tail hesitantly, sensing the kindness beneath the stern exterior. He scooped Angus into his arms, feeling the tiny heart beat rapidly against his chest.
“Aye, lad,” he murmured. “Ye’ll be safe with me.”
He carried Angus to the kitchens, where the warm glow of the hearth welcomed him. He set the pup down and filled a small bowl with warm milk, breadcrumbs, and a piece of cheese left on a plate.
Angus sniffed cautiously, then lapped at the food eagerly, tail wagging with satisfaction. Bradley watched quietly, a small, rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Once Angus had eaten, Bradley lifted him once more and carried him through the castle halls. The corridors were quiet, with the torches casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. He reached his bedchamber and set the pup down on the rug before the hearth.
