Page 21 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
“Och, lass, I like yer writin’,” he said, holding the page just out of her reach. “Ye’ve a gift with words, though I’d nae have thought ye the poetic sort.”
His deep voice carried a playful note that only made her cheeks flame hotter.
“It’s private,” she insisted, reaching for the parchment. “Ye’ve nay right to be readin’ it. Put it away, Bradley.” Her eyes flashed with urgency, though a nervous smile tugged at her lips.
He grinned then, raising the paper high above his head, far out of her grasp. “Nay, I’ll keep it a moment longer. ’Tis rare I see ye pour yerself onto the page like this. Do ye mean to hide it from me always?” His teasing tone filled the chamber, low and taunting.
Laura huffed, standing on her toes as she tried to snatch it from his hand.
“Bradley, give it here!” she demanded, laughter breaking through her indignation. She jumped slightly, her fingers brushing air while he easily shifted his arm higher.
“Ye’ll need to try harder than that, lass,” he teased, his grin wide as he stepped back a pace. “I’ll nae surrender such fine writin’ so quickly.” His eyes gleamed with mischief, his broad shoulders relaxed though his stance was steady.
Laura lunged again, her hands grasping at his arm while her laughter spilled into the air.
“Ye’re impossible,” she gasped, her frustration mingled with giddy warmth. She tugged at him, but he only lifted the paper further, keeping it far beyond her reach.
Her foot caught on the edge of the rug, and she let out a startled gasp as she pitched forward. The parchment fluttered in Bradley’s hand as he dropped it aside to catch her. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her firmly against him.
Laura’s breath hitched as her palms pressed against his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath his tunic. Heat radiated through her where his hands held her, steady and sure. Her heart pounded wildly, the nearness of him overwhelming her senses. For a suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and she could think of nothing but the closeness of his body and the intensity in his gaze.
Bradley looked down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, though the faintest trace of a smirk lingered on his lips.
“Careful, lass,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I cannae have ye fallin’ and hurtin’ yerself.” His breath brushed against her cheek, sending shivers racing along her spine.
Laura swallowed hard, her face aflame as she struggled to steady her voice.
“Ye shouldnae be teasin’ me so,” she whispered, though her words lacked conviction. “It isnae fair, Bradley.” Her chest rose and fell quickly as she tried to step back, though part of her longed to stay right where she was.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bradley steadied her, but as he did, the edge of her nightdress slipped across her shoulder, revealing a faint scar along her back. His gaze darkened, and his hand rose almost of its own accord, tracing the jagged line with the pad of his finger. Fury flared within him, hot and sharp, though he kept his voice low.
“Where did ye get this, lass?” Bradley asked, his words more of a growl than a question.
His eyes narrowed as he studied the scar, anger rising like a storm. He couldnae believe she bore such a mark upon her fair skin. His heart hammered, torn between protectiveness and rage.
Laura stiffened at his touch, her cheeks pale though her voice remained soft.
“It was me faither,” she whispered, her eyes averted. “He did it to me long ago. It was a punishment, one I’ll nae forget.”
Bradley’s grip on her shoulders tightened, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
“Yer faither?” He repeated, disbelief dripping from his tongue. “He dared mark ye, his own blood? By God, Laura, I’ll see him pay for this.”
“Nay, Bradley,” she said quickly, her hand fluttering to his arm as if to soothe him. “I daenae wish harm upon him. He’ll face his judgment in the afterlife. I’ve already made peace with that.” Her eyes shone with earnestness, though her lips trembled.
Bradley’s nostrils flared as he shook his head. “Peace? Ye speak of peace when he scarred ye like this? When he cast ye from a horse to the ground like ye were naught but dirt beneath his feet? Nay, lass, I already vowed I’d punish him for that cruelty, but now there’s nay escapin’ it.”
Her breath caught, and she pressed against him, trying to reason. “Bradley, I beg ye, daenae go down this road. Vengeance will only bring more pain. Let it rest, let it fade with the years gone by.” Her tone carried desperation, but her plea couldn’t pierce the iron resolve forming in his chest.
Bradley looked at her, his eyes burning with a promise. “I’ll nae let a man, even yer faither, walk free after hurtin’ ye this way. Ye’re mine now, Laura, and I’ll see to it that nay one touches ye with cruelty again. His reckoning is comin’, and nay word ye speak will change it.” His voice was low, dark as thunder.
Laura’s face softened, but her words grew weaker as she whispered, “Please, husband… let it be.” Her shoulders slumped, knowing her protests might fall on deaf ears. She searched his face, hoping for even the slightest bend in his will. Yet she found none.
Bradley turned from her then, his muscles taut as he forced himself to release her.
“Rest, lass,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Sleep while ye can. I’ve much to consider.” The command carried the weight of his fury, though his hand lingered briefly on her arm before he let go.
