Page 52 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
They walked in silence for a time, the only sound being the crunch of gravel beneath their boots. Laura’s fingers lingered over her belly as a quiet smile curved her lips.
“It feels strange,” she said finally, her voice full of awe. “To think there’s a life within me. A wee soul, half mine and half his.”
Cora looked at her fondly. “Aye, me Lady. ‘Tis the greatest miracle of all, that.”
By the time they crossed back through the castle gates, Laura felt lighter than she had in weeks. The servants greeted her with warm smiles, and the air seemed full of quiet joy she could not explain.
When she reached her chamber, she sat by the window, staring out over the water’s shimmering surface. For the first time since her marriage, peace settled fully in her heart. She thought of Bradley, his strength, his temper, and the tenderness he tried to hide behind stern words. He was flawed and fierce, but he was hers.
She had fought the thought once, convincing herself she was still bound by her vows to the Abbey, by promises made to a life now long gone. But that morning, as she sat with her hand over her womb, she understood that her path had changed.
This was her life now—her husband, her home, her child.
Laura smiled, tears of joy stinging her eyes as she whispered to herself, “Aye, I love him. I truly love him.”
And with that admission came a warmth so deep it silenced every lingering fear. She knew then that whatever storms lay ahead, she and Bradley would face them together, stronger, bound by love, and now by the precious life growing within her.
Laura nearly tripped over her own skirts as she ran through the corridors, her laughter echoing against the stone walls of the old castle. The joy bubbling inside her could not be contained; her heart raced faster than her feet. She reached the study first,breathless and flushed, and knocked eagerly upon the wooden door.
When there was no answer, she frowned slightly, pushing it open to find the room empty, the fire crackling quietly in the hearth as if mocking her anticipation.
She turned and hurried toward the kitchens, the hem of her gown brushing the cold floors as she darted past servants carrying baskets of vegetables and sacks of flour.
The cooks looked up in surprise at the Lady of the Castle rushing about like a lass chasing after mischief. But there was no sign of Bradley, not at the long table, not near the hearth, not even outside near the stables. Laura’s brow furrowed as she turned toward the training grounds, her mind still racing with excitement, imagining how she would tell him their lives were about to change forever.
The clang of swords met her ears as she neared the practice yard, but it was only a few of the younger men sparring. Her heart sank when she saw no sign of her husband among them.
Turning on her heel, she spotted Cora walking toward her with a basket of linens in her arms. “Cora, have ye seen the Laird anywhere?” Laura asked, trying to catch her breath. “I’ve searched the whole castle and I cannae find him.”
Cora set the basket down, brushing her hands on her apron. “Och, me Lady, I believe he rode to the mainland with Alan.Somethin’ to do with business or trade, at least that’s what me brother said before he left.”
Laura’s shoulders slumped with a sigh, her excitement softening into a restless ache.
“Oh, I see,” she murmured. “I was anxious to speak with him.”
Cora smiled knowingly and took Laura gently by the arm. “Come now, lass, sit ye down in the kitchen. Ye’ll feel better with a bite to eat. Ye’re eatin’ for two now, aye?”
The kitchen was warm and full of life, with the smell of roasting meat and baking bread filling the air. Cora set a wooden plate in front of Laura—thick slices of bannock bread, a steaming cup of tea, and a generous helping of mutton stew rich with onions and herbs.
“There now,” Cora said, grinning as she poured her mistress a mug of warm milk sweetened with honey. “A meal fit for a laird’s lady and her wee bairn.”
Laura laughed softly, her hand instinctively resting on her still-flat belly.
“I’ll go tell the stable boy to alert us in the kitchen the moment the Laird returns,” Cora said.
“Thank ye,” Laura said as she watched Cora leave.
As she ate, Laura felt a deep calm settle over her. She thought of the Abbey, of her quiet days spent among the nuns, her hands ink-stained from copying prayers, her heart at peace yet longing for something more. Now she had found that “more.”
She wanted to write to them, to tell them that her heart had been remade, that love, once foreign and uncertain, now filled her like sunlight through stained glass. She smiled faintly at the thought of their reactions, imagining them weeping for joy and the younger girls whispering in awe at how life had turned out for her.
Cora returned after a short while, wiping her hands on her apron and joining Laura at the table.
“Stable boy says he’ll come runnin’ the moment the Laird returns as asked,” she said as she sat down with a bowl of stew for herself. “Now eat up proper, me Lady. A bairn takes strength, and ye’ll need plenty of that.”
Laura chuckled and nodded, taking another spoonful, feeling warmth spread through her chest. “Ye sound like Eidith,” she teased lightly.
“Aye,” Cora replied with a wink, “but Eidith doesnae have to chase after ye with a spoon.”
