Page 38 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Bradley reached out and touched her hand briefly, firm and reassuring. “Leave it on the table in our room tonight. I’ll see it sent come morn,” he assured her.
Laura’s lips curved into a grateful smile, the tension leaving her shoulders. “Thank ye,” she said simply, but he could see what it meant to her.
With their books closed, the previous silence shifted into quiet conversation as they leaned back in their chairs. Bradley let himself relax, feeling the pull of her presence like a tether to the world outside his endless duties.
“Shall we play cards again?” he suggested, voice light with a hint of mischief.
Laura raised a brow. “Again?” she asked, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Last time, I nearly lost me composure… and ye nearly took it too far with yer teasin’.”
“This time,” Bradley said, leaning forward, voice low and conspiratorial, “we’ll play with a twist. The loser must surrender a piece of clothing.”
Laura blinked at him, eyes wide, then laughed, the sound bright and lively in the hushed library. “Ye’re mad,” she said, shaking her head.
“Mad with desire and cunnin’ all in one.” Bradley’s lips curled, a dark, teasing smile forming. “Or perhaps I just like seein’ ye flustered, lass. Shall we?”
They dealt the cards, the table between them filling with tension and challenge. Bradley watched her, noting how her eyes flicked to his hands, her lips twitching when she held a particularly good hand. Each play of the cards was deliberate, a silent conversation filled with teasing and unspoken desire. The game became a delicate battle, each move a mix of skill and provocation.
Laura’s laughter rang out again as Bradley won the first round, his victory cheeky and deliberate. “Aye, the first loss goes to ye,” he said, leaning closer. “What piece shall it be, I wonder?”
She flushed deeply, covering her face for a moment before lifting her gaze. “Ye’ve nay right to make me… fluster so,” she said, tone playful but flustered.
Bradley leaned back, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Aye, but I ken the rules, lass. The twist was agreed. Choose wisely, or ye’ll regret it.”
No dress, no fine adornment, not even command over men or land, had given him such contentment as this, seeing her smile, seeing her joy, even in small, teasing games.
Laura took a slow breath and decided on a token, a ribbon from her sleeve. Bradley’s lips twitched in approval as she removed it, playful defiance in her eyes.
“A fair choice,” he said, reaching across the table to tap her hand. “But beware, lass, I intend to win the next round with just as much cunnin’.”
Bradley watched Laura with a satisfaction that surprised him, a rare softness in his chest. For once, he was not just the Laird, the warrior, the protector; he was a man with a woman he adored, sharing quiet triumphs and teasing battles. The warmth of the library, the glow of the hearth, and the soft presence of the small puppy wove together into a moment he wanted to hold on to forever.
Bradley allowed himself a rare thought.
Perhaps the walls I built around me heart begin to crumble, one small victory, one stolen glance, one mischievous game at a time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“The victory belongs to me, husband,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice, “so what garment will ye take off?”
Laura’s fingers trembled slightly as she laid down her winning hand.
Her eyes flicked to Bradley, and she saw the faint smirk tugging at his lips. With deliberate slowness, he reached behind and tugged off his tunic, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.
Laura’s gaze traveled over him, lingering, exploring. His chest was broad and sculpted, muscles honed from years of work and combat. Each line of his form spoke of strength and power, and she felt a stirring in her body she had not fully anticipated. The flush warmed her cheeks as her mind recalled the heat of his kisses, the way his hands had made her pulse quicken.
Bradley caught her gaze, dark and knowing, and his brow lifted in silent challenge. Laura’s lips parted, and she struggled to lookaway, caught in the pull of desire. Her fingers tightened around her cards, though they felt heavy and unnecessary in her hand. She could feel his fire, his presence overwhelming in the quiet of the library, and her heart raced in tandem.
“What is it, lass?” he asked softly, voice low and curious, sensing her sudden distraction.
Laura blinked, cheeks still pink, and shook her head quickly. “Nay… nothin’,” she murmured, trying to regain composure. “It is yer turn to deal the cards.”
Bradley’s smirk deepened as he picked up the deck, his bare chest glinting faintly in the candlelight. Laura’s eyes followed his movements, the tension between them thickening, yet she forced herself to focus on the game. She could feel desire rising like a tide, inescapable, yet she masked it with playful teasing. The memory of his lips on hers haunted her, making her pulse quicken with both fear and anticipation.
Bradley shuffled the cards with effortless skill, his hands strong and confident. Laura could not help but notice the subtle flex of his biceps, the way his skin caught the flickering light, and she swallowed hard. A part of her wanted to lean forward, to feel the warmth of him again, yet decorum and her own resolve held her at bay. She shifted in her chair, feeling both scandalized and intrigued by the intensity of the moment.
“Ye’re quiet, lass,” Bradley said, voice gentle yet teasing, “as if ye’re considerin’ somethin’ wicked in yer mind.”
Laura’s lips curved into a faint smile, trying to deflect. “Nay,” she replied, her voice careful, “I am just thinkin’ on how to play the next hand.”
