Page 3 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
“I’ve come for ye, Laura Gilmour,” he said, his tone low and certain, as if no other answer could be given. “It’s time ye did yer duty and wed me, just as was promised.”
Laura stiffened, her hands curling in the folds of her gown. “Promised?” she spat, her eyes flashing. “I owe ye naught, Bradley Knox. I’ll soon take me vows and belong to God alone.”
She saw Bradley’s jaw tighten, though a half-smirk tugged at his mouth. “Yer faither, Ethan Gilmour, made a bond with me own faither. Four years ago, he gave ye to me, and I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”
Laura’s cheeks burned, her anger rising swiftly. “I am nae some cow to be bartered like coin, nor am I yers to claim!”
“I’ll nae turn back empty-handed. Ye’re bound to me, whether ye stamp yer feet or nae,” he said.
Laura’s breath shook, but her defiance held. “I’ll nae go with ye, Bradley. I’ve found peace here, and I’ll give me life to somethin’ greater than a man’s pride. Me faither’s word is naught but ash to me. He gave me away as if I were less than flesh and blood. I’ll nae let his bargains chain me now.”
Bradley’s lips curved into something between a smile and a snarl. “Ye speak boldly, lass, but bonds of blood and clan are nae so easily broken. Ye’ll learn that soon enough, when ye ride at me side.”
Laura’s throat tightened, but she forced the words through gritted teeth. “Over me dead body. Ye’ll drag a corpse to yer keep afore I ever go willingly.”
He leaned closer, his voice a low growl that sent shivers along her skin. “We’ll see about that, Laura Gilmour. I always get what’s mine.”
“I am nae yers,” she said.
He stepped closer, his voice hard as stone. “Either ye come with me, or I’ll burn yer precious Abbey to the ground.”
The words rang through Laura like a blade, each syllable a cruel reminder of the power he held.
Her chest rose and fell quickly, fury warring with dread as she held his stare.
“If I go with ye, ye must swear to leave the Abbey in peace,” she said, her tone unyielding though her hands trembled. “Swear it, Bradley Knox, or I’ll stand here and let ye strike me down afore I take one step.” The silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of his horse’s restless shifting.
His lips curved into a half-smirk, but his eyes were cold. “Fine, lass. Ye have me word. I’ll nae raise a torch to the Abbey if ye come with me now.” The promise was thin as smoke, but it was all she could cling to.
Laura drew in a sharp breath, her heart sinking as if weighted with chains. She nodded once, her jaw tight, and forced her feet toward him. The world around her blurred as she let him take her arm and lead her to the waiting beast of a horse. She kept her chin high, though every step felt like surrender.
Moments later, Laura sat pressed against him, his arms firm around her as the stallion surged forward. The warmth of his chest at her back unsettled her, his strength undeniable and suffocating. She should have been numb with terror, but an unbidden shiver of strange thrill coursed through her veins. She hated herself for feeling it, hated him for making her feel it more.
The forest blurred past them, green and gold streaks in the setting sun. She tried not to notice the rhythm of his breath against her hair, steady and certain, as if he had already claimed victory. Her fingers clenched the folds of her skirt, digging into the fabric until her knuckles whitened. She prayed silently that God would give her strength to endure what lay ahead.
Hours passed, the sound of hooves echoing through valleys and across rugged paths. Laura’s body ached from the ride, yet her mind spun faster than the horse’s pace. She thought of the Abbey. The thought of leaving them cut deep, but she clung to the knowledge she had spared them from his wrath.
At last, the land began to change, opening wide to a stretch of glistening water. There, rising proud and commanding on its isle, stood Castle McCormack. Its stone towers reached skyward, weathered by centuries yet strong, and its walls gleamed faintlyin the fading light. A wooden bridge stretched across the water like a lifeline to the mainland.
Laura’s breath caught as she stared, awe battling with dread in her chest. It was beautiful, rugged, and wild, surrounded by greenery that seemed to guard it as fiercely as the waters below. She had seen many places in her short years, yet nothing compared to this sight. Her heart whispered fear, but her eyes could not help but marvel.
Bradley leaned down slightly, his breath hot against her ear.
“Aye, lass. This will be yer home now.” The words were heavy, final, spoken like a man who never lost what he claimed.
Laura swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the castle looming ahead, knowing her life had changed forever.
CHAPTER THREE
Two days had passed since Laura had crossed the wooden bridge and entered the looming walls of Castle McCormack. Now, she stood before a tall mirror in a chamber filled with morning light, her wedding dress draped across her frame like chains.
Laura gazed at her own reflection, her lips pressed into a thin line, unable to find joy in the moment as Cora’s hands moved with care and fastened the final ties, her face bright with delight.
“Ye look stunnin’, me Lady,” Cora said, her voice soft yet brimming with awe. “I swear, the whole clan will scarcely believe their eyes when ye walk down that hall. It’s as if the dress was made for ye alone.” Her eyes sparkled, sincere in every word.
Laura forced a faint smile, though her chest ached. “Thank ye, Cora. Ye’re too kind.” Her voice wavered as she turned slightly, smoothing the gown with trembling hands. “Though I confess, I daenae feel as radiant as ye say.”
“Ach, nonsense,” Cora said with a laugh, adjusting flowers atop Laura’s dark hair. “I’ve never seen such beauty. The men will gape, and the women will sigh with envy. Truly, ye’ll make a fine bride.”
