Page 78 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Her tears fell freely now as she looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “And what if I cannae forgive ye?” she asked softly. “What if it’s too late, Bradley?”
He shook his head, stepping closer until there was scarcely a breath between them.
“It’ll never be too late, Laura,” he whispered. “I’ll wait as long as ye need. I’ll earn yer forgiveness if it takes me whole life to do it.”
Laura stared up at him, her heart torn between the past and the promise before her. His words stirred something deep within her, something that had never truly died.
“Ye’re a stubborn man, Laird McCormack,” she murmured.
“Aye,” he said, with a faint smile ghosting his lips as a tear rolled down his cheek. “But I’m stubborn for the right reasons now. Forye.I love ye.”
Laura looked at him, her chest rising with uneven breaths as the storm within her began to quiet. The fury and hurt that had burned through her now softened into something else, something far older, far truer. This was what she had wanted all along, what her heart had whispered for in the lonely nights since leaving the castle.
She wantedhim, Laird McCormack, the man who had broken her heart but also made it beat stronger than it ever had before.
A small smile trembled at the corners of her lips as she stepped closer, her eyes glistening with both love and tears.
“Bradley,” she said softly, her voice a fragile whisper. “I love ye as well. I always have. So, I’ll forgive ye, but ye’ll have to make it right.” The faintest trace of a teasing smile flickered through her tears as she lifted her chin to meet his gaze.
Bradley’s heart swelled; his eyes filled with relief.
“Aye, lass,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll do whatever ye wish. There’s naught I wouldnae do to earn yer heart again.” He reached out, brushing a loose curl from her cheek, his touch trembling with reverence.
Laura’s eyes searched his face, tender yet firm. “Then listen well, Bradley,” she said. “Ye can never send me away again. Nay matter the storm, nay matter the anger in ye, I’ll nae leave me home nor me husband again.” Her voice broke slightly on the last word, but she held his gaze steady.
Bradley swallowed hard and nodded solemnly. “Ye have me word, lass,” he said. “On me life, I swear I’ll never send ye away. Nae for a day, nae for a breath. Ye’ll stay at me side where ye belong.” His voice shook with sincerity, and she saw the truth of it in his eyes.
Laura nodded once, then folded her arms as if to gather courage. “Good,” she said with quiet firmness. “Then ye’ll also see to the Abbey roof. It leaks somethin’ terrible when it rains, and I’ll nae have the sisters sleepin’ drenched another night.” A soft glimmer of humor touched her eyes.
Bradley’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Aye, lass. Consider it done,” he replied warmly. “The roof will be fixed before winter’s chill sets in, ye’ve me promise.”
Laura’s expression softened again. “And one more thing,” she whispered. “Ye must love me and love our bairns with all ye’ve got. Ye must never turn cold on us again.” Her voice trembled with vulnerability, her heart laid bare.
Bradley’s eyes glistened as he took her hands in his. “I promise, Laura,” he said thickly. “I’ll love ye and our bairns till the end of me days. Ye have me word, me heart, and all that I am.”
Her lips parted with a breath that was half a sigh, half a sob. “Then I shall return with ye,” she whispered. “Home, to Castle McCormack.”
With that, he drew her into his arms, and she did not resist this time. Their embrace was fierce, filled with the ache of all they had endured and the hope of what lay ahead.
When his lips found hers, the kiss was deep and full of promise, an unspoken vow that whatever storms came next, they would weather them together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Home,” Laura exhaled in relief.
“Aye, lass… home,” Bradley said.
The carriage wheels rumbled softly over the worn path as the great iron gates of Castle McCormack swung open.
Laura sat beside Bradley, her gloved hands folded in her lap, heart fluttering as the familiar sight of the grey stone walls came into view. The sun had begun to dip low, spilling its warm gold across the battlements, and for the first time in many days, she felt the warmth of peace in her chest.
Bradley turned to her, his gaze softened by affection.
“Welcome back, Lady McCormack,” he said quietly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
His voice, usually so commanding, carried a tenderness that made her throat tighten.
He means it, nae just as a greetin’, but as a promise.
