Page 72 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Angus stretched, then curled himself up, letting out a contented sigh as the fire’s warmth seeped into his tiny body.
Bradley knelt beside him, watching the rise and fall of the pup’s small chest, feeling a strange mixture of protectiveness and tenderness he had never experienced before for a dog.
“Aye, ye’ll stay here,” he murmured. “This is yer home, as much as it can be.”
He lingered a moment longer, running a hand through Angus’s fur, before standing and turning away.
The Laird’s responsibilities weighed heavily on him, yet in the quiet of the bedchamber, with the pup sleeping at his feet, a faint glimmer of peace touched his heart.
The thought of Laura, so far away, still pained him, but for the first time since her departure, he felt a small anchor in the storm.
Bradley moved to the window, looking out over the courtyard and the darkened lands beyond. Angus stirred slightly but did not leave the warmth of the rug. The night was silent, save forthe distant call of an owl, and for a moment, the Laird allowed himself to simply be, just a man and a pup in a castle full of memories and shadows.
He turned back to the hearth and sat down in the chair nearest the rug, watching Angus sleep. The small creature reminded him of what Laura had left behind—a piece of her he could still protect and care for. The weight of responsibility pressed on him differently now, not as a ruler, but as a guardian. And for the first time that evening, Bradley allowed himself to feel a faint thread of hope amidst the lingering darkness.
Hours passed in quiet reflection, the fire slowly dying in the hearth. Angus twitched in his sleep, letting out a small whine, and Bradley instinctively reached out to stroke his head. “Aye, lad,” he whispered, “we’ll manage the night, ye and me. We’ll keep the castle warm together, eh?”
The heavy knock at the door rattled Bradley from his brooding, and he growled.
“Enter!” The door creaked open, and Alan stepped inside, bowing slightly.
Bradley motioned to the chair opposite him. “Sit yerself down, Alan. Ye’ll be needin’ a drink,” he said, pouring a glass of whisky from the decanter.
Alan lowered himself into the chair, keeping his posture straight and alert.
“Me Laird, I came to report that Lady Laura has been safely delivered to the Abbey. The carriage is stabled, and the horses are restin’,” he said, voice steady but cautious. “The journey went without incident.”
Bradley leaned back in his chair, fingers tightening around the glass.
“And… was she fine, Alan?” he asked, eyes narrowing with concern and lingering frustration.
Alan hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment.
“Aye… she was fine in the sense that she arrived safe. I saw her huggin’ her sisters, tears in her eyes, me Laird,” he admitted softly.
Bradley’s jaw tightened, and he swirled the whisky in his glass.
“Ye ken why I did it, Alan. Safer for her this way. She’s safe from me now… from the monster I am,” he said, voice low and heavy with self-reproach. “The bairn is safe from me.”
Alan’s eyes flashed with indignation, and he leaned forward. “Me Laird, forgive me directness, but the only monster in this keep was yer faither! Ye are nae him, though ye fight it in yerself,” he said firmly, tone cutting through the room’s stillness.
Bradley’s fists clenched on the arms of the chair.
“Alan… ye daenae ken. I can feel it in me bones. I cannae risk doing to her or the bairn what me faither did to me and those he claimed to love,” he snapped, voice rough with rage and despair.
Alan’s expression softened, but he did not relent.
“Aye, I ken the fear burns deep, but that doesnae make ye a monster, me Laird. Ye have the chance to be better than him! Sendin’ her away… it only tears her heart apart. Ye think it protects her, but it punishes ye both.”
Bradley’s gaze fell to the floor, jaw tight. “Do ye think I care for the pain I give meself? She must be safe. I… I cannae risk her happiness or the bairn’s safety. I am nae sure I can control the beast inside,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Alan leaned back slightly, shaking his head.
“Ye’re blind if ye think castin’ her out keeps her safe. Ye’ve done more damage to her heart than any stranger could. She trusts ye, me Laird. She cares for ye. And yet ye force yerself away from her, thinkin’ yerself unfit.”
Bradley slammed his hand down on the table, making the glass rattle. “Alan, I ken exactly what I am. I am the son of a tyrant, a man with fire in his veins and fury in his heart. I slew me own faither. I can protect her from the world, but I cannae protect her from me. That is why she had to leave,” he said, eyes blazing.
Alan rose from his chair, voice rising in frustration, but still calm with authority.
