Page 14 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
She stiffened slightly as Bradley’s arm brushed hers, his hold steady and possessive. The words “Lady McCormack” echoed in her mind, foreign and heavy with expectation. She forced a polite nod, her lips tight, as she murmured, “I… thank ye for yer welcome, and me heart is heavy with what has happened here.”
A woman with a child in her arms curtsied deeply, her voice quivering. “Bless ye, Lady McCormack. Yer kindness is a light in this darkness.” Laura felt a pang in her chest, a mix of shame and resolve, realizing that these people looked to her now as part of their protection and hope. She straightened, lifting her chin, though her heart raced with unease at the weight of her new position.
Bradley spoke, “Ye need nae fear, nor dwell on the past. I’ll see that ye are cared for, and this village rebuilt,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Laura watched him, noting how effortlessly he assumed authority, and she felt both admiration and fear stir inside her. This man, cruel and commanding, was now the center of her life and her duty.
She took a step forward, placing a hand lightly on Bradley’s arm, her voice firmer than she felt. “I will do what I can to help,” she said, glancing around at the broken homes and weary faces.
A hush fell over the villagers as they processed her words, and a few brave men nodded in respect. The reality settled in her chest: she was Lady McCormack, wife to this man, and bound to his name and clan.
Laura’s mind wandered to the quiet halls of the Abbey, the life she had chosen, or been forced from. She thought of Emilie and the vows of service and simplicity, now replaced by gilded halls, responsibilities, and the looming expectation of an heir.
A chill ran down her spine as the enormity of her new role pressed upon her. Yet, deep within, a spark of resolve ignited: she would meet her duties, even if it meant taming the brute she now called husband.
Bradley’s hand brushed hers, a subtle reminder of the authority he held.
He leaned close, his voice low, almost a growl. “Ye’ll learn, lass, that ye belong here, at me side.”
Laura’s stomach tightened, but she squared her shoulders, replying softly, “Aye… I’ll do what must be done, Laird.” Her eyes met his, and though fear lingered, a strange steadiness took root; she was no longer just Laura of the Abbey; she was Lady McCormack, and the life she had fled was behind her.
The villagers began to murmur among themselves, their hope renewed by the presence of their new laird and his bride. Laura felt the weight of every gaze upon her, the silent expectations pressing like stones on her chest.
Yet, amidst the fear and uncertainty, a sliver of determination glimmered. She would face this life, face Bradley, and perhaps, somehow, find her own place within the storm.
CHAPTER NINE
Bradley remained close, silently impressed and uneasy, the image of her determination forever seared into his mind. For all the cruelty he had known in his life, he could not deny the quiet power in the woman who moved among the wounded, fearless and steadfast.
He moved quietly through the village, his dark eyes observing Laura as she knelt beside a small boy, carefully wrapping his scraped knee with a clean strip of cloth. He felt a grudging respect rise within him, watching the way her hands moved with precision and gentleness, and how she spoke softly to soothe the frightened child.
The fire in her eyes as she worked and the steady confidence in her touch reminded him that she was more than just his bride; she was a woman of strength and intelligence. He could feel it in every motion, every word, that she possessed the heart of a true leader.
An older man approached, his clothes singed and his face streaked with soot.
“Laird McCormack, we are grateful ye’ve come, but our homes are naught but ash. What will become of us?” His voice shook with worry, but he stood tall, seeking reassurance.
Bradley’s voice carried calm authority, but there was a steely edge in it. “Ye will nae be abandoned. The castle shall provide what ye need, and we’ll rebuild. I’ll see that none here go wantin’ while I hold this clan and me name.”
Another woman stepped forward, her arms folded protectively over a bundle of blankets.
“Laird, the children need food and blankets. Can ye send from the stores? They cannae last through the night with nothin’ but this ash.”
Bradley nodded, noting her concern and the weight of her words. “Aye, it will be done. I’ll see to it meself that ye have supplies and that the castle’s stores are opened for yer needs. Nay child here shall suffer for want of care while I command this clan.”
He moved on, noticing villagers huddled in small groups, quietly mourning what had been lost. Some pointed to the remains of their homes; others spoke of livestock stolen or burned. Bradley listened carefully, storing each grievance, each need, each plea for help. He knew he would have to act swiftly if he was to secure their trust and rebuild what had been destroyed.
A younger man approached him nervously, bowing low. “Laird, the fields have been trampled, the livestock taken. We need seeds, tools… somethin’ to start again.”
Bradley’s gaze swept over him, measuring the fear and hope in equal measure. “Ye shall have what ye need,” he said firmly. “Tomorrow, I’ll send men to gather provisions, to aid in rebuildin’. Ye will nae go wantin’, for I hold this land and its people as me own.”
He paused, watching Laura now tending to a woman with a burn along her arm. The concentration on her brow, the compassion in her words, and the authority in her movements struck him deeply. She was not a gentle, delicate flower to be coddled; she was steel beneath silk, capable of inspiring loyalty, courage, and respect. Bradley felt a stir of pride, and something darker, possessive, as he realized she would be by his side in more than name alone.
Another villager stepped forward hesitantly, a small girl clutching her skirt. “Laird… we lost the well cover, and the water’s tainted with ash. Can ye help us?”
Bradley’s answer was decisive, his voice like rolling thunder, calm yet commanding. “We’ll fix it. Men will gather stones and wood; we’ll purify the water, and nay one here shall go thirsty. Tell the others to remain strong; help comes this night, and ye will see the village restored.”
As he continued walking through the village, Bradley’s eyes never left Laura. He saw how the villagers flocked to herguidance, how she inspired trust, how her quiet authority complemented his own. She was not just his bride; she was a partner in leadership, and he realized that together, they could command loyalty and respect. A grim satisfaction filled him, knowing the people would look to both of them for protection, for hope, and for the future of the McCormack name.
