Page 75 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Alan mounted his own horse beside him, settling into the saddle with a curious glance.
“If ye daenae mind me askin’, where does this road take us, then?” His tone carried a touch of cautious hope, though his eyes searched Bradley’s face for any hint of his mood. “Ye’ve had us ready at the crack of dawn but nae said a word of where we’re bound.”
Bradley looked straight ahead, his jaw tight. “We ride to get back somethin’ I never should’ve let go of,” he said, his voice roughened by emotion he wouldnae show. His hand tightened on the reins, knuckles pale against the leather. “Aye, Alan… we’re going to bring her home.”
Alan’s brows lifted slightly, then a grin crept across his weathered face. “It’s about time ye got some sense knocked into ye, me Laird,” he said with quiet satisfaction. He gave a sharp tug to his reins and added, “This journey is one of joy.”
Bradley turned his stallion toward the gate, his voice carrying with authority.
“Driver!” he barked, glancing toward the carriage where the two guards waited, adjusting their tack. “Ye’ll follow behind and meet us at Caledon Abbey. Daenae linger and keep steady.”
His words were clipped, his gaze fixed beyond the gate where the open moors stretched out, vast and cold.
“Aye, me Laird!” the driver called back, tipping his cap as the guards saluted. The carriage wheels creaked as it prepared to follow.
Bradley drew in a deep breath, the chill of morning biting his lungs, and then shouted, “Open the gates!”
His voice rang out across the courtyard like thunder. The great wooden doors groaned as they were pulled apart, the iron hinges squealing in protest before they swung wide to reveal the long, winding road beyond.
With a flick of his reins, Bradley spurred his stallion forward. The horse lunged ahead, hooves striking sparks from the stones as it charged through the gate. Alan followed close behind, his laughter carried on the wind as they rode out with thundering speed, their cloaks streaming behind them like banners of determination.
Behind them, the carriage rumbled into motion, slow but steady, its wheels rolling over the dirt road as the guards kept watch.
The hills rolled before them, green and gold beneath the dawn light. Bradley’s mind drifted, despite his effort to focus on the road.
Laura.
Her name echoed through him like a prayer. The memory of her laughter, soft as rain, haunted him even as the sound of the hooves pounded against the earth.
He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the reins.
I drove her away. All because I feared I’d become me faither.
The image of her tear-streaked face when she’d begged him to see reason burned behind his eyes. He’d thought he was protecting her, protecting them both, but all he’d done was break what was good and pure between them.
“Ye ken,” Alan called over the wind as he rode beside Bradley, “if it’s her heart ye’re after, ye best be ready to speak plain this time. The lady’s got a tender spirit, but she’ll nae be easily won back.” His voice was half jest, half truth.
“Aye,” Bradley said, his voice low. “I’ll speak plainly enough. She deserves that much and more.” His eyes softened, though his tone stayed firm.
“She’s the light that God sent me… and I’ll nae let it fade again.”
They crested a hill, the path ahead stretching toward the distant line of forest where the Abbey lay hidden among the trees.
The sun had climbed higher now, scattering gold across the land, and Bradley felt the first flicker of warmth seep into his coldbones. He could almost hear Laura’s voice in the wind, gentle and strong as ever.
He slowed his horse for a moment, letting the stallion breathe, and looked toward the horizon with determination.
“I’ll bring her back,” he murmured to himself, the words fierce and solemn. “I’ll bring back Laura… and me bairn… at all costs.”
Alan drew up beside him again, the wind tousling his hair as he gave a firm nod.
“We’ll reach the Abbey before sundown at this pace, if the weather holds,” he said. “But if it turns foul, we can make camp by the burn near the forest’s edge.”
Bradley’s eyes never left the horizon.
“Nay,” he said quietly, his voice resolute. “We ride straight through. I’ve wasted enough time already.”
He spurred his horse forward again, and together, the two men thundered across the moor, driven by the fire of regret and the faint, stubborn hope that love might still forgive them.
