Page 32 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
The seamstress ignored their quarrel, measuring Laura’s waist and jotting down notes. “Och, fur at the collar, aye, and perhaps wool… good clasps, mayhap.” She mumbled to herself as if caught in a trance of cloth and design.
Laura turned her head sharply, her voice edged with frustration. “Why must ye always decide what’s best for me? Am I nae woman enough to take care of me own needs?” Her eyes glistened, though pride kept her from showing weakness. “I never asked for this.”
Bradley’s hand curled into a fist at his side, though his voice softened just enough to cut through the fire.
“Aye, ye didnae ask, but I’ll see to it, regardless. Ye’re Lady McCormack, and ye’ll be dressed as such. I’ll nae have the clan whisper ye’re clad like a servant when ye’re queen of all ye see.” His eyes locked on hers, daring her to argue further.
The seamstress stepped back at last, her work finished, and gave a quick curtsy.
“The garments will be ready within a sennight, me Laird. Cloaks and gowns both, and boots by the cobbler to match.” She gathered her things swiftly, casting a wary glance between husband and wife. “I’ll see to it at once.”
Bradley gave her a curt nod, his expression unreadable. “See that ye do, and waste nay time.” His voice carried a weight of command that left no doubt she’d hurry. As the seamstress slipped from the room, silence stretched heavy in her wake.
He looked at Laura; she stood stiff as stone, her chest rising and falling quickly. Her hands fisted at her sides, fury still simmering in her gaze.
She turned away from him, muttering under her breath, “Ye’ll smother me with all this overbearin’.” Her shoulders trembled with the effort of holding herself together.
Bradley stepped closer, though he kept his voice low and rough. “I’ll protect ye, Laura, even from the cold itself. That’s me duty as yer husband, and more than that, me choice.” His eyes burned with a mix of pride and something deeper, something he refused to name. “Ye’ll have all ye need, whether ye fight me or nae.”
Laura turned her face to him then, her lips pressed tight, her anger still sharp but tempered by a flicker of confusion. She searched his eyes, trying to pierce through the storm she alwaysfound there. Her breath caught, but she forced her chin higher. “I’ll nae thank ye for what I daenae want,” she whispered.
Bradley’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, then hardened again, the mask sliding back into place. He folded his arms across his chest, standing immovable as stone.
“Then keep yer thanks, lass. I daenae need them. What I need is to see ye safe, warm, and dressed as the Lady ye are.”
Bradley’s eyes narrowed as Laura swept out of the chamber. His chest burned as he watched her leave, the fire of her anger striking deeper than any blade. He couldn’t let her walk away, not with such distance lying heavy between them. His strides were long and determined, and when he reached her, he caught her arm and pulled her close, his breath already quickened with unspoken need.
“Ye’ll nae walk away from me, lass,” he growled low, his grip firm though not cruel.
Laura’s chin lifted, her gaze flashing with fury. “This willnae be enough, Bradley. Ye can drag me to seamstresses, dress me in fine garments, but it willnae wash away the truth. Ye followed me faither to harm him, and I cannae forgive it.”
With his jaw clenched, the accusation struck him harder than steel. “Why, Laura? Why are ye so mad at me for it? That man hurt ye, shamed ye, left ye with scars nay husband would wish upon his wife.”
Her eyes softened only for a moment, then hardened again like tempered glass.
“Because I am a woman of God, Bradley. I cannae stand by such deeds, nay matter who the man may be. I would never take joy in violence, even against the one who raised me so cruelly.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, bitter and sharp. “Ye didnae mind when I cut down the bandits that ransacked our clan’s village. Nay, ye looked at me with pride in yer eyes that day.”
Laura’s lips pressed together, her hands trembling slightly in his hold. “I understood then, because ye were protectin’ the folk, keepin’ yer people safe. That was nae for yerself, it was for them, for the clan. But this…” she shook her head, voice breaking, “this is for vengeance for past deeds.”
Bradley leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek, his voice heavy with the weight of his vow. “And this time, Laura, I am protectin’ me wife. Ye, lass. I’ll face the devil himself if it means nay harm will ever touch ye again.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, her chest rising as if the air had grown thin between them. “I was already safe, Bradley. Safe from the moment I came into yer castle.” Her eyes glistened, unyielding even as her voice wavered. “But ye daenae see it, do ye? I never needed blood spilled to prove it.”
The words struck him like a blade through the gut. His hand loosened on her arm, his heart twisting with a strange, unbearable ache.
Safe with me? I, the man who murdered his own faither, who had left men in the dust with his blade?
His head shook as though he could deny it, though the truth pressed heavily on his soul.
He released her and turned sharply, his back to her as if her very gaze burned through his flesh. His palm pressed against the cold stone wall, his shoulders tight with shame. A hollow emptiness spread through him, darker than the night sky over the moors.
“God help me, lass,” he whispered hoarsely, though the words were more to himself than to her. “How can ye feel safe with a monster such as me? A man who has done such horrors?”
Laura’s silence behind him cut deeper than any answer she could give. He dared not turn to face her, dared not let her see the torment twisting inside him. She was pure, untouched by the shadows that haunted him. She was a saint, and saints had no place standing at the side of devils.
His hand trembled as it pressed harder against the wall, as though he could anchor himself there. The air around him felt colder without her touch, his chest hollow without her warmth pressed close. Desire still burned through his veins, but it was poisoned now, tainted with the knowledge of what he truly was.
