Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bradley sat tall in the saddle, his eyes fixed on Laura as she clung lightly before him. A strange, unrecognizable feeling stirred in his chest, one he could neither name nor fully understand, but it was fierce and possessive.
Her hesitation to mount the horse earlier played again in his mind, the way she had trembled for just a moment before he lifted her and secured her in place. He felt an obsessive claim over her, a thought that unsettled him even as it thrilled him.
The castle gates loomed ahead, and Bradley guided his horse carefully across the bridge that spanned the green water below.
Laura stirred against him, her hands brushing at his sides as she leaned forward. “Ye need rest, Laird,” she said, her voice calm but firm, taking control in a way that surprised him.
Laura dismounted first, glancing up at him with a mixture of determination and concern.
“Ye’ve got to let me tend to those wounds,” she said, taking his arm gently but firmly.
“I daenae need it,” Bradley muttered, trying to suppress the heat rising in his chest at her insistence.
“Ye will, whether ye wish it or nae, when the fever sets in. Now come,” she said.
Inside their bedchamber, Laura set to work, carefully examining his arm and shoulder where the skirmish had left bruises and cuts. Bradley sat back in the chair, watching her with a dark curiosity, fascinated by her precise movements as she boiled clean rags for the wound and made tea.
“Tell me, lass,” he said, his voice low, “why did ye hesitate to get on the horse earlier? I’ve a mind to understand what frightens ye.”
Laura looked up from the bandaging, meeting his eyes steadily. “I’m afraid of horses,” she admitted, her brow furrowed.
“Ye? Afraid?” Bradley let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Aye, tomorrow, we’ll fix that,” he said, a dangerous edge to his words as he watched her flush with a mix of fear and embarrassment.
Laura’s hands lingered on his arm, steadying him and changing the subject. “Ye’ll live, Laird. If ye’ll let me tend to this daily,” she said, her voice soft but insistent.
Bradley leaned back slightly, studying her, a tangle of frustration and desire coiling inside him. “Ye’ll make a husband of me yet, Laura… and I daenae ken if I like that thought or fear it.”
The firelight flickered across her determined face, and Bradley’s chest tightened with a mix of awe and possessiveness. He could feel the claim of her hands, the quiet authority she wielded, and he realized he had never encountered anyone like her.
“Ye ken, Laura,” he said slowly, his tone softening only slightly, “I’ve a mind to let ye have yer way… for now.”
Laura nodded, returning to her work, unaware of the storm of obsession brewing behind his dark eyes.
Bradley remained silent, though his mind raced with thoughts of control, desire, and the strange, unyielding pull he felt toward her. The bedchamber seemed smaller now, the space charged with a tension that made him glance at the bed.
And as she bandaged his wound, he felt certain of one thing—he would not let her go. He felt the heat rising within him. Suddenly, he had the urge to put distance between them.
“I must give orders to Alan. Yer lessons start tomorrow.” He stood up and left the room. That night, he would have slept in his study. He could not be near her. He knew he could not control his urges, and Laura wasn’t ready for him yet.
The next morning, Bradley led Laura toward the castle stables. The scent of hay and horses greeted them, and Bradley ran a hand along the nearest stall.
“These are the finest beasts in the Highlands, Laura. Each one’s loyal, strong, and swift,” he said, pride threading his voice. Laura followed closely, glancing from one sleek coat to another, her eyes wide with awe and trepidation.
She stopped short of a large black stallion, hesitating. “I… I daenae ken if I can,” she admitted softly, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.
Bradley’s dark eyes softened slightly, though a spark of amusement lingered. “Nonsense, lass. Ye’ll do fine. I’ll be with ye, every step,” he said, stepping closer, letting his hand brush against hers briefly as he guided her forward.
The horse nickered, lowering its head, and Bradley whispered encouragement. “See? He senses yer fear, but he’ll follow yer lead. Ye must speak gently, show him ye mean nay harm,” he instructed.
Laura’s palm met the horse’s soft nose, her fingers trembling as she stroked its sleek coat.
Bradley crouched beside her, holding the reins loosely but firmly.
“When ye mount, ye must trust him… and me,” he murmured, his voice low, resonant with authority.
Laura glanced up at him, her chest tightening with a mix of fear and something he couldn’t name.
“I daenae ken if I can… I daenae want to fall,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
He gave her a firm yet patient look. “Ye’ll nae fall.
I’ll lift ye, place ye properly in the saddle.
Lean forward, hold tight, and I’ll guide ye.
Aye, ye’ll be fine,” he said, extending a strong arm to help her.
Laura allowed herself to be steadied by him, feeling the strength in his hands and the steady confidence in his presence. She hesitated a heartbeat, then nodded.
Bradley hoisted her carefully into the saddle, adjusting her posture with precise movements.
“Keep yer heels down, yer back straight, and grip with yer knees. That’s it, lass… perfect,” he instructed, standing back for a moment to observe her balance.
He climbed up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist to steady her.
“Be calm, Laura. Feel his rhythm, trust the steps, and daenae tense,” he said. The horse shifted under them, and she felt the gentle sway of motion.
“Now take the reins,” he said, handing them to her.
She took the reins, and he held her wrists for support.
“Ye see? Nae so frightful,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips as the horse snorted softly.
“I… I’m… learnin’,” she admitted, cheeks flushing. “Aye, and ye’ll be master of the beast soon enough,” Bradley replied, voice low, filled with that dark, unyielding certainty that always made her pulse quicken.
Bradley guided Laura gently from the horse, his hands steady at her waist as she slid to the ground.
“Easy now, lass. Ye did well,” he said, letting go once she was steady.
Laura wiped her palms on her skirt, a flush rising to her cheeks, and gave him a small nod. He offered a brief, approving smile before leading her toward a row of other horses tethered along the stable fence.
“These are the younger ones, nae yet tamed fully,” Bradley explained, gesturing to a brown mare that stamped her hoof nervously.
“Ye’ll nae need to fear them, just be calm and speak softly.”
Laura hesitated a moment, then reached out cautiously, running her hand along the mare’s neck. The horse shifted, sniffing her fingers, and she let out a small laugh, startled at her own courage.
Bradley stood beside her, calm and patient. “See? They ken fear, but they also ken gentleness. Treat them with respect, and they’ll follow ye willingly,” he said, watching her closely.
Laura took a deep breath, tilting her head to watch the horse’s eyes. Bradley watched and felt a spark of pride that she wasn’t pulling away.
He led her along the line of horses, showing her which ones were more skittish and which were steady.
“Observe their temperaments, lass. A laird must ken his mounts as well as his men,” he said, his voice firm but patient.
Laura nodded, stroking the neck of a dark chestnut colt as it whinnied softly.
Bradley’s eyes lingered on her, noting how she moved with caution yet growing confidence, and a small, unrecognizable stir rose within him.
Bradley watched Laura carefully as she spoke, her hands trembling slightly as she recounted her fear of horses.
“Me faither… he threw me off a horse once, when I was wee. He did it to punish me,” she admitted, her voice soft but edged with lingering pain.
Her dark eyes flicked down to the ground, and she let out a shuddering breath. “I wished then… I wished he’d faced some punishment for it.”
Bradley’s jaw tightened, and his black eyes darkened.
“By God, lass,” he growled, “if I’d been there… he would’ve regretted it.”
Laura looked up at him. She shook her head slowly, her lips trembling as she spoke, “Nay… I daenae wish him harm any longer. He’ll face his punishment in the afterlife.”
Bradley’s fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his forearms straining beneath his shirt.
He felt an unsteady heat rise in his chest, a mix of protectiveness and righteous anger that he could hardly control.
His eyes burned as he stared at the ground between them, wishing he could undo the cruelty Laura had suffered.
The thought struck him sharply, almost painfully.
I will punish her faither meself, make him pay for what he has done to her.
He forced himself to breathe, trying to temper the storm of anger that churned within him. Bradley knew he could not speak of his intentions aloud; such a declaration might frighten Laura further.
But the thought seared in his mind, vivid and unyielding: her father had harmed her, and the reckoning would not go unmade. As he watched her, tender and strong despite everything, he silently vowed that the man who had caused her pain would answer for it, in whatever way he could ensure.
As Bradley walked beside Laura on the narrow path that wound back toward the castle, the stone walls loomed larger with each step. The wind was sharp, carrying the scent of hay and rain-soaked earth, but he barely noticed.
His gaze kept straying to her, to the way she held herself with quiet strength despite all that had been done to her. Something fierce burned in his chest, an unfamiliar protectiveness that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
The thought of another man’s hand upon her filled him with a dark heat, one that demanded action. He stopped, his voice rough when he spoke.
“Nay one can touch ye, lass. Ye’re mine. Anyone who hurts ye will be punished.” The words left him harder than he intended, raw and unpolished, yet they carried the truth of what he felt deep in his bones. His hand found her arm before he thought better of it, his grip both firm and claiming.
Laura looked up at him, her eyes wide and startled, and the flicker of fear in them stabbed at him. Still, she did not shrink from his touch, though her voice trembled when she answered.
“I… ye speak fiercely, Bradley, yet I ken the cruelty that’s been done me. I daenae wish it returned by yer hand.” Her confession stirred him with both guilt and need, as if her words unlocked something dangerous inside him.
Without thought, he pulled her closer, the urge to silence her doubts with something stronger than words taking hold.
His mouth came down on hers, the kiss quick and fierce, more claim than comfort.
It was no gentle caress but a searing mark, a promise and a warning in one.
The taste of her lingered as his hands stayed at her waist, grounding him in the certainty that she belonged to him and no other.