Page 9 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
“That’s enough, lass,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, almost protective. He lifted her with ease, his arms strong and unwavering as he carried her.
Laura’s limbs went slack, her body heavy in his arms, and she felt herself melting into his strength, warm and secure despite the haze of alcohol.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath slow and uneven. She murmured something unintelligible; a jumble of words and laughter that made her cheeks burn in embarrassment even asshe verged on sleep. Bradley moved her toward the four-poster bed.
He lowered her gently onto the thick mattress, her body sinking into the soft furs and velvet covers. Bradley drew a heavy blanket over her, tucking it carefully around her small frame. Her breathing evened, the warmth of the bed and the blanket wrapping her like a shield, and at last, she surrendered fully to sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
“Mornin’, me Lady,” Cora said kindly, her voice carrying the lilt of cheer.
Laura stirred at the soft sound of footsteps and the clatter of a tray being set down. Her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Cora’s gentle face, smiling warmly in the light that filtered through the tall window.
“I’ve brought ye yer breakfast, though it’s nae quite mornin’ any longer.”
Laura blinked and pushed herself up against the pillows, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her gaze landed on the tray, steaming tea in a polished pot, honey oatcakes stacked neatly, fresh berries glistening with cream, and thick slices of ham. The smell made her stomach tighten with unexpected hunger.
“What do ye mean, nae mornin’?” she asked, her brow knitting.
Cora laughed lightly, moving to draw the curtains wider and let in the bright glow of day.
“’Tis already midday, lass. Ye’ve slept through the morning and then some. The Laird himself said to let ye rest, and none dared wake ye.” Her eyes sparkled.
Laura sat straighter, startled at the revelation. “Midday?” she repeated, her voice full of disbelief. “He bade ye let me sleep so long? I scarcely can believe it, for I thought he would drag me out of bed afore the dawn.” There was a touch of relief in her chest, though she tried to hide it.
“Aye, he said so, plain as day,” Cora replied, smoothing down the coverlet as she tidied the bedside. “He told me, ‘Let her sleep. She’ll rise when she’s ready.’ I think he kens ye’ve been through a sore trial and needed the rest.” She gave Laura a look of sympathy as she straightened.
Laura’s lips softened into the faintest of smiles, and she inclined her head. “Then I’ll be grateful to him for that, though I scarcely think he deserves me thanks in other matters.” She swung her legs over the bed and went to sit at the small table where the tray awaited. The steam of the tea curled into the air, comforting and fragrant.
Cora moved briskly about the chamber, her hands never idle. She poured fresh water into the washbasin with a steady splash and laid out a clean gown of soft wool across the chest.
“Eat up now,” she said gently. “Ye’ll find strength in a good meal, and there’s naught better than honey oatcakes to warm the heart.”
Laura broke a piece of oatcake and tasted the sweet golden honey that melted on her tongue. The ham was tender and savory, the berries tart and fresh. She ate with quiet hunger, the warmth of the tea soothing her weary body.
“It’s a fine meal, Cora,” she said sincerely, her eyes glancing toward the maid.
“I’m glad ye think so,” Cora answered, collecting a discarded kerchief and folding it neatly. “The kitchens take pride in servin’ the Laird and his lady well. Ye’ll never want for food here, though it keeps us maids runnin’ all the day.” She laughed softly at her own jest, brushing dust from a nearby shelf.
Laura sipped her tea, the cup warm in her hands. Her curiosity stirred, and she looked toward Cora, who hummed as she worked.
“Tell me, what is life like here at Castle McCormack?” she asked quietly. “I ken little of this place beyond its walls and bridge.”
Cora’s eyes lit as she considered the question, and she paused in her tidying. “Och, it’s a busy life, me Lady. The castle rests on this isle, safe and green, with the loch guardin’ it like a moat. Each morn we cross the wooden bridge to fetch goods from the mainland—grain, cloth, whatever’s needed.”
Laura listened intently, resting her chin upon her hand as she nibbled another oatcake. The thought of the castle surrounded by water made her feel both safe and isolated at once.
“Does the isle nae feel lonely, so cut off from the world?” she asked, her dark eyes searching. She wondered if she, too, would feel stranded, away from all she once knew.
Cora shook her head with a smile, wringing out a cloth and laying it neatly across the washstand.
“Nay, me Lady, for there’s always life stirrin’, maids at their chores, lads trainin’ with blades, and the Laird overseein’ it all. The isle keeps us bound together, ye see, like one family. ’Tis a busy place, never quiet for long.”
Laura thought about her words, taking another sip of tea. “A family,” she murmured, though the word made her chest ache with longing. She thought of the Abbey, of the sisters who had been her true kin these past years. She missed their voices, their songs at prayer, and the peace of their company.
Cora moved to the hearth, stirring the low fire back to life with a poker. “Ye’ll grow used to it, me Lady, as all new brides must. The castle may seem strange now, but it will soon feel like yer home. And though the Laird is a hard man, he kens his duty to his clan.”
Laura lowered her gaze to the plate, pushing berries about with her fork. “Aye, duty,” she echoed quietly, her heart heavy with the thought. She wondered what her own duty would demand inthe days to come. Yet in Cora’s kindness, she found a sliver of comfort she had not expected.
