Page 37 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
She jabbed her stick at him, nearly poking his chest. “Och, duties! Ye’ve more to mend than guard posts and walls. Now move yer feet afore I swat ye with this stick, Laird or nae.”
A reluctant chuckle left Bradley’s chest, though he shook his head. “Ye’ve never changed, old one. Fine then, I’ll humor ye.” He followed after her, his long strides slow enough to match her uneven gait.
Eidith led him through narrow passages that few used, places that smelled of herbs and dried flowers strung along the beams. Her chamber was a small room filled with jars, bundles, and bowls, the air rich with the sharp tang of mint and sage. She reached for a small pouch on her table and pressed it into his hand. Her eyes gleamed with a strange knowing that made Bradley wary.
“Keep this,” she said, her voice dropping lower. “Open it when ye ken ye’ve need to fix somethin’. The herbs inside will tell ye what ye need.”
Bradley frowned down at the pouch, the leather soft and worn beneath his fingers. “What nonsense is this, Eidith? Ye expect me to take counsel from dried leaves?”
She cackled, shaking her head. “Och, daenae be so daft, lad. It’s nae the herbs, but the moment ye’ll ken. When ye feel the weight of yer own folly, ye’ll think of me, aye, and mayhap ye’ll ken how to fix it.”
Bradley’s brow furrowed, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Ye sound like a riddlin’ bard after too much mead.”
Eidith straightened, her eyes fierce despite the wrinkles. “Ye’d do well to be more open with yerself and with Lady Laura. She’s nae a foe to keep at arm’s length; she’s the heart that will steady ye. Daenae hide from her, lad, else ye’ll lose what the gods gave ye.”
Her words struck closer than he liked, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Ye speak bold, Eidith, for one who should ken better than to meddle in a laird’s marriage.”
She wagged her finger, her grin sly. “Meddle, is it? Aye, and I’ll meddle more. When the bairn comes, ye’ll name it after me. Eidith for a lass, Edan for a lad.”
Bradley barked a laugh at that, shaking his head. “By the saints, woman, ye’ve gone mad as a hare. I’ll nae be namin’ me child for ye.”
Eidith only smirked, folding her hands atop her stick. “Ye’ll see. The day will come, and ye’ll remember me words. Now off with ye, afore ye scowl a hole in me floor.”
Still chuckling under his breath, Bradley tucked the pouch into his belt and turned for the door. He left the healer behind, her laughter echoing faintly down the hall like the caw of some old crow. Though he brushed it off as rambling, he couldn’t quite shake her words from his mind. The weight of the pouch satheavy at his side, a reminder of riddles best left unanswered, for now.
Bradley left her rooms and strode into the great hall, the heavy oaken doors groaning on their hinges. All eyes lifted, and every soul in the room rose to their feet, hands bowing or touching their hearts in deference. Bradley raised his hand in greeting, his gaze sweeping over the gathered clansmen, noting the pride and loyalty etched into their faces.
He allowed himself a brief nod before making his way to the head of the long table, where Laura waited beside him.
She smiled at him, warm and serene, and for a fleeting moment Bradley forgot the burdens of rule and duty. No fine dress or cloak had so mended her heart, he realized, as the small pup they had brought into the castle had.
The sight of her eyes lighting up made him feel a deep satisfaction, one that had little to do with power and everything to do with her. Bradley shifted slightly, letting her presence settle beside him, the warmth steadying him more than the fire ever could.
“Ye seem pleased with this pup,” he said quietly, leaning toward her, voice low and teasing.
“Aye,” Laura replied with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “He’s small and clever, and he likes me… perhaps more than some men in this hall.”
Bradley snorted, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He caught a soft whine beneath the table and looked down to see Laura slipping scraps to the puppy from her plate. He wondered why he allowed her such liberties, why the fire in him did not demand restraint. Yet seeing her smile again, feeling her contentment, he found satisfaction in allowing her small rebellions.
The meal continued with laughter, conversation, and the scraping of cutlery, but Bradley’s mind lingered on Laura and the puppy at her feet. When it was done, he rose and offered his arm.
“Come, lass,” he said with a flicker of teasing in his tone. “The library awaits a quiet eve of readin’.”
Laura scooped the pup into her arms and then looped her other arm through Bradley’s, her fingers brushing his.
“Aye, I’ve been lookin’ forward to it,” she said, her voice soft with anticipation.
“And I promise, nay mischief… only readin’, I swear,” he said.
Bradley led her down the torch-lit hall toward the library, the shadows stretching long and welcoming.
They settled into the quiet of the library, the scent of leather and parchment heavy in the air. Laura settled the pup on the rug before the hearth, where it settled into a slumber.
Bradley opened his book, the familiar weight of it grounding him in calm, and glanced at Laura as she turned pages with delicate precision. Time passed with silence punctuated only by the rustle of leaves and the faint scratching of pen on paper. He noticed her glancing at him, stolen looks that made his chest tighten in a manner he hadn’t expected.
“What is it ye’re thinkin’?” he asked, setting his book aside, voice low.
Laura’s eyes widened slightly, caught in the act. “I… I wrote a letter to a friend of mine,” she confessed. “But I daenae ken who to give it to, or how it should be sent.”
