Page 76 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
For a long moment, he rode in silence, the sound of hooves echoing through the valley. The guilt that had shadowed him began to twist into resolve, his fear melting into purpose.
I’ll spend the rest of me days earnin’ what I so carelessly cast aside. If she’ll have me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Laura sat on the old stone bench in the Abbey garden, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stared at the wilted lavender before her.
Nieve approached quietly, her soft steps barely making a sound on the worn flagstones. She lowered herself beside Laura and waited.
“I feel lost, Nieve. It’s as if I’ve been torn from the very place me heart calls home. I should feel peace here, yet all I feel is emptiness.” Her eyes glistened as she looked toward the chapel spire, its shadow long in the morning light.
Nieve reached out and gently touched her arm. “Aye, lass, I understand,” she said softly. “When life tears ye away from what ye love, it leaves a wound that nay prayer can mend overnight. But ye must trust that God’s hand guides even the hardest roads.” Her tone was gentle, but there was strength behind her words.
Laura turned to her, tears welling up. “But what if I’ve lost His hand too? What if I’ve strayed so far that even the Almighty cannae find me?” Her voice trembled as she spoke, raw with pain. “I thought marriage was me path to light, but now it feels like it’s led me into darkness.”
Nieve gave a small, patient smile. “Then let the darkness teach ye to see, Laura,” she whispered. “The Lord doesnae abandon His children, even when they wander. Sometimes He lets the storm rage, so we ken what it means to be carried home again.” She squeezed Laura’s hand, and for the first time in days, Laura felt the faint warmth of hope stir within her chest.
Their conversation had softened into silence when the sound of quick footsteps broke the calm.
Poppy came running across the garden, her dark curls bouncing, her blue eyes wide with urgency. She tugged at Laura’s skirt and began pointing furiously toward the Abbey’s front gate, her small chest heaving.
“What is it, wee one?” Laura blinked and rose to her feet, confused. “What’s got ye so riled?” she asked, crouching to the child’s level.
But Poppy only pointed harder, her mouth moving in desperate silence as she shook her head and stamped her foot. Laura looked at Nieve with worry in her eyes.
Nieve frowned slightly and nodded toward the path.
“Let’s go see what’s the matter,” she murmured. Together, they followed the child through the cloister and out toward the great wooden gate. The sound of distant hooves reached their ears, steady, strong, and coming closer.
Laura’s breath caught. Through the mist that hung low over the road, two riders emerged. The lead horse was black as midnight; the second was a chestnut with a white blaze down its nose.
Her heart dropped to her stomach, thudding painfully as her gaze fixed upon the tall figure astride the black horse. Even before she saw his face, she knew.
It’s Bradley.
Her pulse quickened as his broad shoulders came into view. Alan rode beside him, his expression steady as always, though there was a hint of relief in his eyes.
Laura gripped the gatepost for balance, her knees weakening beneath her. Every emotion she had fought to bury over the past days rushed through her like a tide.
The horses slowed to a halt just before the gate.
Alan dismounted first, offering a courteous nod. “Greetings, ladies,” he said with a respectful bow of his head, his tone warm but formal. “A fine morn to ye.” He grabbed the reins of both horses ready to lead them to the hitching post, as Bradley swung down from his horse.
He stood tall before the gate, his cloak dusted with the road’s grit, his hair tousled by the wind. For a long moment, he simply stared at Laura. She took this time to confirm he was truly there before her.
Then his voice, rough and low, broke the silence. “Laura… I beg a word with ye.”
Laura’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her breath trembled in her chest as she looked at Nieve beside her.
The novice nun’s eyes softened with understanding. “I shall give ye two some privacy,” she said kindly. “Come along, Poppy.” She placed a gentle hand on the child’s shoulder and led her away toward the garden.
Now it was only Laura and Bradley; the world hushed around them except for the distant caw of a crow.
Laura stepped forward through the open gate, her hands clasped tightly before her. The gravel crunched beneath her slippers as she stopped just a few feet from him. They stood there, face to face, saying nothing. The silence stretched between them, thick and charged, like the calm before a storm.
Her heart ached at the sight of him, his tired eyes, the way his jaw was clenched as if holding back a flood of words. She wanted to be angry, yet seeing him again unraveled every thread of resolve she had sewn.
Bradley’s voice was hoarse when he finally spoke.
