Page 68 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Laura’s eyes filled with unshed tears as she clutched the folds of her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
She looked toward the looming Abbey doors, the dark oak carved with crosses and angels. “He’s buildin’ a prison for himself, Alan. One day he’ll find it empty, and only then will he understand what he’s lost.”
Alan nodded, lowering his gaze.
Laura let out a trembling sigh, her voice growing soft. “I cannae wait for that day, Alan. If it ever comes, I may be too changed to care.” She brushed a tear from her cheek and tried to steady herself, lifting her chin as she took a step toward the Abbey.
Alan fell into stride beside her, the trunk balanced easily on his shoulder. The wind rustled through the tall grass as they walked through the gate and along the narrow path leading to the Abbeydoor. “Still,” he said, glancing at her gently, “ye’ve strength, me Lady. More than ye think.”
Laura gave a faint smile through her sorrow. “Perhaps,” she said quietly. “But strength feels hollow when it’s born from heartbreak.” Her steps slowed as she reached the Abbey steps, her eyes drawn upward to the carved stone above the doorway, an angel with outstretched wings, her face serene.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and a rush of cool, sweet-scented air from within the Abbey washed over Laura. Standing there in the doorway was a young woman, no more than two-and-twenty, her hair tucked into a bun. Her eyes were kind, her face round and gentle, and her figure short and soft in her novice’s robes.
The sight of her, so serene, so warm, broke the last of Laura’s composure, and before she could stop herself, she stumbled forward and fell into the young woman’s arms.
“Nieve,” she whispered.
Nieve caught her, steadying her with a gasp. “Oh, lass,” she murmured, “Hush now, daenae cry. Ye’re safe here, truly ye are.”
Her hand smoothed Laura’s hair as Laura wept against her shoulder, her sobs echoing faintly in the stone corridor behind them.
Laura clutched the girl’s robe, her voice trembling as she spoke through the tears.
“I’ve returned, Nieve,” she said brokenly. “Returned… and broken beyond repair. I daenae ken what else to do.”
Nieve’s eyes softened further, and she held Laura’s shoulders with a firm but gentle grip. “Hush now, lass,” she said, brushing away a tear from Laura’s cheek. “Whatever’s happened, the world’s cruelties cannae touch ye here. The sisters will care for ye, and I’ll make sure ye’ve all ye need.”
Alan stood just outside the door, his cloak damp with mist, Laura’s trunk beside him.
He gave a respectful bow toward Nieve. “Sister,” he said gruffly, his deep voice echoing against the Abbey stones, “I am the man-at-arms of Castle McCormack. Me Laird ordered me to see Lady McCormack safe to the Abbey.”
Nieve straightened slightly, her eyes glancing from Alan to Laura with understanding. “Well,” she said kindly, “ye’ve done yer duty, son. She’s safe with us now, and the Lord shall bless ye for it.” Her words carried the quiet authority of one who had learned to soothe pain with both faith and gentleness.
Alan gave a small nod and stepped forward, setting Laura’s trunk down in the entryway. The sound of it settling on the stone floor echoed faintly in the quiet hall.
“Aye, then,” he said, stepping back again, “she’s in yer care, Sister. I trust ye’ll see she’s well looked after.”
Nieve smiled faintly, her hand still resting comfortingly on Laura’s arm. “We’ll see to her, lad,” she said. “Now go on with ye, and may God guide yer way back to the castle.”
She looked at Laura, her expression softening again. “Ye’ve folk who care for ye, I see. That’s a blessing, even in sorrow.”
Laura turned toward Alan, her heart twisting as she saw him preparing to leave. “Alan,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “Wait… please, just a moment longer.” She stepped forward, her fingers trembling as they twisted in her cloak.
Alan turned back, his eyes filled with quiet sorrow. “Aye, me Lady,” he said gently. “I’ll nae go till ye’ve said yer piece.” He removed his cap and held it before him, his broad shoulders slightly hunched in respect.
Laura swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, but the words spilled out before she could think. “Tell him… tell Bradley that I arrived safe,” she said, her voice quivering. “Tell him the sisters were kind and that I didnae fight ye on the road. But tell him too that I cannae forgive him, Alan. Nae for sendin’ me away when I needed him most.”
I daenae believe that I would nae forgive him. I think I would, but somethin’ inside me wants to hurt Bradley, as he has hurt me.
Alan’s brows drew together, his voice thick with emotion. “Aye, I’ll tell him, me Lady,” he said quietly. “I’ll tell him ye were brave, and that ye walked into this place with yer head held high. He may think he’s done right by ye, but I reckon the Laird’s heart will ache soon enough for what he’s lost.” His voice faltered slightly, though he quickly composed himself.
Laura managed a small, tearful smile. “Ye’ve always been kind to me, Alan,” she whispered. “Ye’ve the heart of a good man, and I’ll never forget yer loyalty. Tell the men I wish them well, and that I’ll pray for their safety.” Her gaze fell to the floor as she added softly, “And pray for me too, if ye will.”
Alan bowed his head deeply, his voice low. “That I will, me Lady. Every night, I’ll ask the Lord to watch over ye and the bairn. Ye daenae deserve this pain, but I believe ye’ll find peace here. Maybe someday, when the Laird’s pride breaks, he’ll come to his senses and fetch ye home again.”
Laura’s eyes shimmered with tears once more. “Perhaps,” she said softly, though her tone carried little hope. “But I’ll nae hold me breath for a man so stubborn. Go now, Alan, afore I beg ye to take me back.” She gave a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob.
Alan’s jaw tightened as he nodded, turning away toward his horse. “Farewell, Lady McCormack,” he said solemnly. “Ye’ll be missed.” With that, he climbed atop his horse and gestured for the guards to ready themselves.
