Page 48 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
“I’m all right,” he said shortly, his jaw tight. “I daenae wish to speak on the matter any further.”
Her hand squeezed his gently, but he barely felt it. “Ye cannae hold it all in yerself, ye ken. Sharin’ the burden… it doesnae make ye weaker.”
He shook his head, the muscles in his neck taut. “This is me business, Laura. Ye need nae concern yerself with it.”
Laura looked down, her lips pressed together, but she did not release his hand. Her presence was a comfort he did not deserve, yet one he could not resist.
“Ye should rest, and Cora as well. Ye should nae have gone this far from the safety of the castle in the first place.”
“Aye, Laird,” Cora murmured, curtseying slightly, though her eyes flicked to Laura with quiet worry.
“It was me idea to walk to the mainland,” Laura replied. “And I?—”
“Enough. Do as ye’re told,” he glared.
He mounted his horse behind them. He stayed silent, letting the sound of hooves and the wind in the trees fill the void. His mind was hotter than any fire could make. Every step back to the castle was heavy with thought, his anger and frustration simmering beneath a cold, controlled exterior.
Laura walked beside Cora, occasionally glancing back at him. Bradley caught her eye for a fleeting moment and allowed a small, almost imperceptible softening before turning his gaze once more to the path ahead. He did not speak; words were useless now. All that mattered was returning to the stronghold of the castle, where control could be reclaimed and where he could, perhaps, find a moment to breathe.
The sight of his mother made him ill with worry.
If she tries to do anythin’ to Laura. I daenae ken what I’m capable of.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Laura sat at her vanity, running a brush slowly through her long hair. The rhythmic sound of bristles through strands usually soothed her, but today it only reminded her of the silence that had filled her days since that dreadful meeting with Lady Ophelia.
Bradley had withdrawn into himself again, keeping to his duties, speaking little, and shutting himself behind the walls of his temper and pain. She had grown used to his quiet moods, but this one felt colder, deeper, as if he had vanished into a place she could not follow.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow that danced across her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes, usually bright with life, now looked tired, dimmed by worry. She laid the brush down and clasped her hands in her lap, whispering a prayer that he might soon find peace within himself. The creak of the door startled her, and she turned quickly as Bradley stepped into the room.
“Bradley,” she breathed, rising to her feet, a soft smile forming on her lips.
He stood in the doorway, broad shoulders silhouetted against the flicker of torchlight from the corridor. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes seemed gentler than they had been in days.
“Laura,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Ye’ll need to get ready. We’re ridin’ into the village today.”
She tilted her head slightly, surprised. “Into the village? What for?”
“The blessin’ of the well,” he replied. “The villagers requested ye be there. Said they wouldnae have it without their Lady McCormack.”
Her heart lifted at his words, and she smiled softly. “They… requested me?”
“Aye.” He nodded, stepping further into the room. “They say ye bring them peace, that ye remind them of a saint.”
Laura felt her cheeks warm. “That’s kind of them to say.” She turned toward her wardrobe, pulling out a modest forest-green dress. “I’ll nae have them waitin’. Will ye give me but a moment to change?”
Bradley gave a short nod, turning away to give her privacy as she slipped into the dress and fastened her cloak. Her fingers trembled slightly at the thought of being near him again, close enough to feel the warmth of his body, close enough to remember what it was like before the distance set in. She adjusted the clasp of her cloak and stepped toward him.
“I’m ready,” she said softly.
He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes lingered on her, though only for a heartbeat.
“Good,” he said, his tone quiet but not unkind. “The horse awaits.”
Outside, the air was cool, the scent of heather and damp earth filling the morning. Bradley helped her mount the horse before climbing up behind her, his strong arms steadying her. Laura’s breath caught slightly as she settled against him, feeling the firm weight of his chest at her back and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“It’s been a while since we rode together,” she murmured.
