Page 54 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Laura blinked in confusion, taking a step closer. “Leave? What do ye mean?” She asked, her brow furrowing. “Did ye nae hear what I said? We’re going to have a bairn, Bradley. Yer heir!”
“Aye, I heard ye well enough,” he muttered, still not turning to face her. His hand gripped the edge of his desk as though he might crush it. “And I said, go.”
Her eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. “What’s wrong with ye?” she demanded, her voice quivering. “Shouldnae ye be happy? Ye’ve spoken of needin’ an heir since our weddin’. Why do ye look as though ye’ve seen a ghost?”
Bradley exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s nae the time, Laura,” he said through gritted teeth. “There’s much to think about, much to do.”
“Much to do?” she repeated, her voice rising. “Ye cannae mean that. I bring ye the best news a wife could ever give her husband, and all ye can say is that ye’re busy?” She stepped closer, the hurt giving way to anger. “Ye’re scarin’ me, Bradley. Tell me what this is really about.”
He turned at last, his dark eyes meeting hers, stormy and distant. “Ye wouldnae understand,” he said quietly. “Please just leave it be.”
“I’ll nae leave it be!” she snapped, her small hands curling into fists at her sides. “Ye’ve gone cold, like ye did before, when somethin’ troubles ye but ye’d rather shut me out than face it. I’m yer wife, am I nae? I have a right to ken what’s going on inside that stubborn head of yers!”
Bradley’s jaw worked, but he said nothing. The silence between them stretched, heavy and painful. Laura took another step forward, her voice softening as she pleaded, “Tell me what frightens ye so. Is it me? Is it the bairn? I thought this would make ye happy, Bradley. I thought…”
He cut her off, his voice low but sharp. “Daenae push me on this, Laura. Just go.”
Her breath hitched, tears springing to her eyes at the harsh tone. “Go?” She whispered. “That’s all ye can say to me?”
He turned away again, staring at the fire. The flames danced and hissed; the crackle filling the unbearable quiet between them.“I’ve work that needs me hand,” he said at last, his tone stiff. “There’s business to tend, matters I cannae delay.”
Laura’s shoulders straightened, though her heart ached. “Business,” she said bitterly. “Ye’d rather speak of business than celebrate the news of our bairn? Than celebrate the life we’re bringin’ into this world?” Her voice trembled as she took a shaky breath. “What kind of man are ye, Bradley?”
He flinched at her words but said nothing, his face turned toward the window where gray light seeped in. His silence cut deeper than any blade.
Laura’s anger flared again, mingling with hurt. “Ye’re actin’ as though this is a curse instead of a blessin’. Have I done somethin’ wrong? Have I displeased ye that much?”
“Enough, Laura,” he growled, his voice dark and heavy. “I said leave.”
The fire popped loudly, echoing his command. Laura stared at him for a long moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I thought ye cared for me,” she said, her tone breaking. “But maybe I was a fool to believe it.”
Bradley closed his eyes, the words cutting straight through him, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. The fear in his chest twisted tighter, fear that his blood might destroy what hecherished most, as his father’s had. Fear that his temper, his moods, his legacy—would poison what should be pure.
Laura waited. He knew she was searching for any sign—a word, a look, something. But he only stood there, shoulders stiff, his gaze locked on the window as if he couldn’t bear to face her.
At last, she exhaled shakily. “All right then,” she said, her voice trembling but steady. “If ye’ll nae speak to me as yer wife, then I’ll take me leave as ye wish. But I hope ye ken, Bradley, that ye’ve broken somethin’ this day that’ll take more than silence to mend.”
She turned sharply and strode toward the door, her skirts swishing angrily around her. Her hand lingered on the handle for a heartbeat, as if she might turn back. But his silence filled the room like a wall, and she couldn’t bear to look at him again.
As the door shut behind her, Bradley finally let out the breath he’d been holding. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white. He stared into the dying fire, feeling as though he’d just driven a dagger into his own heart.
He had thought himself a brave man, one who could face any danger and conquer it. But as the silence of the room closed in around him, he realized there was no enemy fiercer than the one that lived within his own soul.
He stormed out of the study and out onto the grounds. His legs kept moving as he crossed the bridge with heavy steps onto the mainland. His mind was a storm of unrest. Sunlight brokethrough the canopy in fractured gold, spilling across moss-covered trunks and the damp earth beneath his boots.
The forest was alive with sound—the call of distant birds, the rustle of small creatures darting through the brush, and the soft murmur of a nearby brook. He had always found solace here, away from the heavy walls of the castle and the endless duties that came with being Laird. But today, even the calm of the woods could not quiet the voice in his head.
Every step seemed to echo with the same word,faither.
He stopped at a clearing where sunlight spilled onto the earth, catching on the blades of dew-slick grass. His breath came heavy, and he ran a hand through his hair, his mind pulling him backward in time.
This is the exact place where it happened.
It was here that his father had once set the hounds on him, his own son. He could still hear the growl of the beasts, still feel the tear of their claws, still remember the cold satisfaction in his father’s eyes.
Bradley’s hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles whitening.
“What if it’s in me to harm me own bairn as he did?” he whispered to the trees. “What if the same black temper runs through me as it did him?” He drew a shuddering breath and pressed a hand to his chest.
