Page 35 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
“I daenae need to hear any more on this.” His voice left no room for compromise, yet Laura’s spirit rose stubbornly to meet his.
Laura drew a steady breath, lifting her chin as she looked up at him. “For once, can ye nae wait and listen? He’s but a wee pup, hungry and alone. I’ll tend to him meself, ye’ll nae even ken he’s here.”
Her eyes softened, though her arms clutched the animal protectively, as though shielding it from the Laird himself.
Bradley’s expression hardened further, his jaw tight as he shook his head. “Nay, Laura. I said nay, and I’ll nae have him in this castle.” His voice was curt, and though it pained her, she felt her heart twist with frustration.
Laura’s patience snapped, her words spilling out in a rush. “Why? Tell me why, Bradley, for it makes nay sense! He’s small, harmless, and looks to me as though he’s never known kindness. What harm could he do?” Her voice trembled with both anger and plea, her eyes searching his for any crack in the wall he had built.
Bradley’s gaze lingered on the pup, and for the first time, Laura caught the faintest flicker of unease in his eyes.
“Dogs are vicious,” he said firmly, his voice low, as though speaking from a wound buried deep. “They turn on ye when ye least expect it. I’ll nae risk ye being near one, nae while I draw breath.”
Laura’s arms loosened slightly around the puppy as her heart shifted from frustration to understanding. She studied him carefully, her voice softer now.
“Somethin’ happened to ye,” she whispered, more statement than question. “What was it, Bradley? What made ye fear them so?”
Bradley’s shoulders stiffened, and for a long moment, he looked away, his gaze fixed on the maps strewn across the table. Hishand curled into a fist before he finally spoke, his voice tight and edged with memory.
“I was seven winters old when me faither set the hounds on me. He thought me too wild, too disobedient, and he loosed them as if I were naught but prey.”
Laura’s lips parted in horror, her arms hugging the puppy closer as if to protect it from the cruel tale.
“He set his own beasts upon ye?” she asked, her voice breaking in disbelief. “Dear God, Bradley…” Her eyes traced his broad shoulders, imagining the boy he once was, running in terror across the grounds of this very land.
Bradley turned to her at last, his dark eyes heavy with a pain that time had never erased.
“Aye. I can still feel their teeth ripping into me flesh, hear the growl of their throats as they dragged me to the ground. I still carry the scars, yet, Laura, scars I’ll bear until the grave. Ye ask me why I willnae have a dog under this roof? That is why.”
Laura’s throat tightened; her anger melted into sorrow at the raw truth in his voice. She stepped closer, her free hand brushing his sleeve gently.
“I didnae ken,” she murmured, her voice trembling with compassion. “Bradley, nay child should suffer such cruelty. I am so sorry.”
His jaw clenched, and he turned from her touch, his back rigid as he faced the window.
“Daenae pity me, lass,” he growled, though his voice wavered beneath the weight of the memory. “What’s done is done, and I’ll nae have the past rule me now. But me word is final, the beast doesnae stay.”
Laura looked down at the puppy in her arms, its tiny chest rising and falling in sleep, so small, so defenseless. Her heart ached at the thought of turning it away, but she could see the torment in Bradley’s stance, the way the memory still bled within him.
“If that is yer will,” she said softly, though grief tugged at her. “I shall respect it, though it breaks me heart to let him go.”
Bradley did not turn, his broad shoulders still set against her. “It is nae a matter of will, Laura,” he said lowly. “It is a matter of keepin’ ye safe. I swore to meself I’d never allow a hound near me blood, and I’ll nae break that vow now.” His voice carried the weight of finality, and with it, the silence of an old wound that time had not healed.
Laura swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes lingering on him with a mixture of sorrow and longing. She wanted to bridge the distance, to tell him that he was more than the scars of his past, but his walls were built high, and she could not yet scale them. Hugging the pup one last time, she pressed her lips to its soft fur.
“Then I shall find him a home elsewhere,” she whispered. “For every creature deserves love, even if it cannae be here.”
Laura looked at Bradley as he remained silent, his figure shadowed against the light from the window.
He had already told her no, but she wasn’t willing to let the matter drop. Her heart thudded fast, though whether it was from the pup or the man standing before her, she couldn’t say.
“Bradley, please,” Laura said, her voice soft but urgent. “Ye cannae shut yerself away from dogs forever. He’s but a bairn, a scrap of a thing. If ye let him stay, mayhap ye’ll find that nae every hound means ye harm.”
Bradley’s brow furrowed deeper, his arms crossed tight against his chest. “I’m nae afraid of the beasts, lass,” he muttered, his voice clipped. “I simply dislike them, and that’s the end of it. They’re wild at heart, nay matter how small they look in yer arms.”
Laura lifted her chin, determination shining in her eyes. “If ye’re nae afraid, then prove it. Pick him up, Bradley, and show me that he’s naught but a harmless creature. I dare ye.”
His eyes narrowed, flicking from her face to the sleepy pup, then back to her stubborn expression. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence between them grew taut. At last, he sighed low, as though the weight of her demand pressed upon his shoulders. With a grim shake of his head, he stepped forward and reached for the pup.
