Page 47 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Her lips twisted into a cold, painted smile. “Because I tire of this miserable hovel ye call exile. The walls are damp, the servants number only four, and me gowns, well, ye never did appreciate how a lady ought to live. I am the Lady of McCormack, Bradley, and I demand me rightful place.”
Bradley barked out a laugh, devoid of humor. “Ye are nay longer Lady McCormack. Ye forfeited yer rightful place when ye plotted against me. Ye wanted me own guards to drag me from this very ground and call me unfit to rule. Ye called me a beast, a curse upon the clan, and yet ye stand before me demandin’ comfort?”
Her eyes flashed with a cruel light. “Aye, because I was right! Look at ye, a brute of a man, with naught but violence in yer blood! Ye think takin’ a wife and buildin’ a few cottages makes ye noble? Ye’re still the same creature who murdered his own faither.”
Laura gasped softly behind him, but Bradley didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “Watch yer tongue, Maither. Ye’ve tested me patience enough.”
“Patience?” she scoffed, taking a defiant step toward him. “I am yer maither! The woman who bore ye! Ye owe me respect, Bradley. Ye wouldnae be here if nae for me.”
“I owe ye nothin’,” he bit out. “Ye made yer choice when ye sided with that traitor of a man who sought to steal me clan from me. Treason runs deep in yer veins, and ye dare to come back here, speakin’ of respect?”
Her painted face twisted in outrage. “Treason? Ye call me treasonous because I wanted what was best for this clan! I wanted peace, nae bloodshed! Ye’re nae fit to rule, son or nae. Ye lead with anger, nae wisdom.”
Bradley’s voice thundered across the clearing. “Anger is what kept this clan alive, because nay one else had the strength to face what needed facin’!”
Bradley turned sharply to Alan. “Fetch three guards. Now.”
“Aye, me Laird.” He nodded grimly and wheeled his horse around, galloping back toward the castle.
Ophelia’s eyes widened, the fury giving way to disbelief. “Guards? Bradley, ye wouldnae dare…”
“I would,” he cut her off, his tone cold as the winter loch. “I’ll nae have ye roamin’ these lands spreadin’ yer poison. Ye’ll return to exile, and if ye defy that, ye’ll find yerself in chains.”
Her jaw dropped. “Chains? For me? For yer own blood? Have ye nay heart left in that chest of yers?”
He stared her down, his voice low but deadly. “Whatever heart I had, ye crushed it long ago when ye turned yer back on me. Ye wanted me dead, remember? Ye called the guards to drag me out like an animal.”
She raised her chin, defiant even now. “I did what needed doing.”
Bradley’s expression darkened further. “Me faither was a monster. He ruled with fear, broke men’s backs, and left our people starvin’. If ye still think that devil deserves honor, then ye’re as cursed as he was.”
Laura stepped forward carefully, her voice soft but steady. “Bradley…”
He turned his head sharply, his tone gentle but firm. “Stay back, Laura. This matter’s between me and her.”
Ophelia’s lip curled, her gaze darting toward Laura. “Aye, there it is. The new wife thinkin’ she’s got a say. Look at ye, all pretty manners and soft eyes. Ye think ye can understand what it means to be a McCormack? Ye’re a stranger, ye’ll never fill me place.”
Laura stiffened, but Bradley stepped forward before she could speak. His voice came like thunder. “She already has. Laura isLady McCormack now, and ye’ll remember that name if ye value what little mercy I have left.”
Ophelia’s expression faltered for the first time, her painted lips trembling slightly. “Mercy,” she repeated bitterly. “Ye sound just like him when ye say it. Yer faither said the same before he cast me aside for speakin’ me mind.”
Bradley’s jaw clenched, memories flickering like shadows in his eyes. “Then perhaps ye should’ve learned from that mistake and nae taken his side.”
The sound of hooves approached again—Alan, returning with three armed guards. They dismounted, standing at attention behind their Laird.
Bradley didn’t look away from his mother as he spoke. “Escort Mistress Ophelia back to her carriage. See that she’s returned to her exile before nightfall.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears of fury. “Ye’ll regret this, Bradley. One day, when ye’ve lost everythin’, ye’ll remember that ye turned yer back on yer own maither.”
Bradley stood still as a stone, watching as the guards took her by the arms and led her away. “I’ve lost enough already,” he said quietly, though only Laura heard it. “And I’ll nae lose more.”
As the carriage wheels began to turn, rolling away toward the distant road, Bradley felt the old pain burn through him again—sharp, deep, and buried beneath the weight of duty.
The gentle pressure of Laura’s hand slipped into his, her fingers intertwining with his as they watched the distant carriage fade down the winding road.
He gritted his teeth, staring straight ahead, unwilling to let his gaze falter.
“Are ye… are ye all right, Bradley?” Laura asked softly, her voice careful but full of concern.
