Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The morning air carried a constant rhythm of the wind. The tide rolled in with foaming waves that crashed against jagged black rocks, sending white mist into the air. The sand was coarse beneath Laura’s slippers, a mix of pale grit and scattered shells that glimmered like tiny pearls.
Laura walked beside Cora, the woman’s stride sure and steady even as the gusts tugged at their cloaks.
The cliffs loomed high above them, dotted with tufts of hardy grass that clung to the stones like stubborn life.
It was a place both wild and beautiful, far removed from the gentler gardens she had once known.
Cora tilted her head, her dark eyes squinting against the wind. “How are ye findin’ McCormack castle, lass?” she asked, her voice carrying above the crash of the waves.
Laura looked down at the waves as they pulled back, leaving ribbons of foam that curled along the shore.
“I find it… challengin’, Cora,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “I ken I am Lady McCormack now, yet I feel as though I’ve nae place still. Surely there must be more for me to do than simply sit idle.”
Cora gave a small laugh, though not unkind. “Ye’ve only just come, child. It takes time to weave yerself into the threads of a clan.” She brushed her cloak tighter about her shoulders as the wind kissed her cheeks. “But ye’ll find yer way, I’ve nay doubt.”
Laura pressed her lips together, her thoughts heavy.
The title of Lady felt like both a gift and a burden, binding her to a role she did not yet understand.
She longed for purpose, for a way to prove her worth beyond being Bradley’s wife.
Yet the castle felt vast and watchful, and she was but a stranger wandering its halls.
The sound of uneven footsteps behind them drew Laura’s attention.
Turning, she saw an elderly woman approaching, her figure stooped and her hair wild as tangled seaweed.
Her eyes glimmered with a strange brightness, sharp yet unfocused, and she carried herself with the air of one who belonged more to the wind than the earth.
The woman’s cloak flapped about her as though it, too, were half-mad.
Laura offered a tentative smile, dipping her head in greeting. “Good day, madam,” she said, her tone gentle. “Do ye need any help? Ye seem a bit weary from the walk.” Her words felt polite, but her chest tightened at the intensity of the woman’s gaze.
The woman’s lips curled into a knowing smile.
“Nay lass, ye’ll soon be fulfillin’ yer duty,” she said, her voice low and rasping like dry reeds. “Aye, ye’ll bear the McCormack heir soon enough. The blood of the Laird will flow through ye, and the clan will rejoice.” Her words rang with eerie certainty, chilling Laura more than the wind.
Laura flushed hot beneath her cloak, her cheeks burning as though the woman had stripped her secrets bare.
“I… I beg yer pardon?” she stammered, her hands twisting together. “That’s nae… that’s nae somethin’ ye should speak of so boldly.” Her eyes darted to Cora, hoping for an explanation.
The woman only cackled softly, her laugh thin and unsettling as she turned away. She shuffled down the shore, her figure soon swallowed by the mist that clung to the rocks. Laura let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her heart still racing.
Cora shook her head with a faint sigh, her expression somewhere between pity and fondness.
“Pay her little mind, Laura. That was Eidith, the castle’s old healer. She’s touched, aye, but she speaks truth often enough to make folk uneasy.”
Laura blinked, her brow furrowing. “Eidith? She seemed… strange indeed. Yet there was somethin’ in her eyes that made me feel she kent more than she should.” Her words trembled with both curiosity and discomfort.
“Aye, lass,” Cora said, glancing down the shore where the old woman had vanished.
“She was once sharp as a blade, the finest healer the clan had. But after many wounds and years of hardship, her mind wandered away from her. Some call her a witch, others call her mad, but all agree she sees deeper than most.”
Laura’s lips parted slightly as she took in Cora’s words. “Then why let her roam so, if she is half-mad? Surely, she needs care, or shelter?” Her gaze lingered on the mist where Eidith had disappeared, the woman’s words echoing still in her mind.
Cora gave her a steady look, her eyes softening.
“Because Bradley protects her. He has a soft spot for the woman, for she tended him as a lad. When his faither would’ve cast her out, Bradley hid her, kept her safe when nay one else would.
” Her voice carried a note of pride as she spoke of the Laird.
Laura felt her heart twist, warmth blooming where only confusion had been before.
“That was kind of him,” she whispered, her thoughts turning over the image of Bradley shielding a fragile, broken woman.
“I hadnae thought him capable of such tenderness. He hides it well behind his scowl.” Her words were half-confession, half-wonder.
Cora chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “Aye, that he does. The man’s a broodin’ storm on most days, yet beneath it he carries a heart. Few see it, but when ye do, lass, ye’ll ken it’s truer than most.” She patted Laura’s arm gently, as if to anchor her in that truth.
Laura turned her gaze back toward the waves crashing and breaking in endless rhythm.
The wind whipped strands of her hair loose, brushing them against her flushed cheeks.
She thought of Bradley’s silence, his restraint, the way he had carried himself with a weight she hadn’t yet understood.
Perhaps there was more to her husband than duty and shadows.
As they walked along the shore again, Laura’s mind lingered on both Eidith’s words and Cora’s revelation.
The thought of bearing an heir still flustered her, sending a warmth of both dread and longing through her.
Yet the kindness Bradley had shown, the hidden gentleness she was only beginning to glimpse, stirred something deeper.
Me heart is caught between fear and hope, like the tide forever back and forth.
Cora brushed her hands over her cloak and gave Laura a gentle smile.
“I’d best return to me work, lass. There’s always somethin’ needin’ done at the castle.” Her eyes softened as she added, “Ye stay as long as ye like. The shore is a fine place for thinkin’.”
Laura nodded, offering her friend a small smile in return. “Thank ye, Cora. I’ll remain a bit longer.”
She watched as the woman turned and walked back toward the path, her figure growing smaller against the rugged cliffs. Alone now, Laura breathed deeply of the crisp air, letting it settle within her chest.
Her thoughts betrayed her almost at once, circling back to Bradley’s kiss.
She had replayed that moment too many times, and each time her cheeks warmed with shame.
She was meant to have been a bride of Christ, her vows nearly taken, and yet she had let herself revel in the touch of a man.
The memory of his lips haunted her, stirring both guilt and longing in equal measure.
Laura pressed her hands together tightly, whispering a prayer that sounded weak even to her own ears.
She could not deny that she had enjoyed it, more than enjoyed it; she had craved more.
The thought filled her with fear, as though her very soul might be in peril for such feelings.
Still, she could not rid herself of the truth that her heart leapt whenever she thought of him.
The crash of the waves drew her eyes back to the shore.
The water glimmered under the pale sun, vast and endless, stretching into a horizon that seemed to swallow her worries.
For a fleeting moment, she felt a freedom she had not known since childhood, as though the wildness of the water had broken the chains around her heart.
But the feeling of the kiss lingered. Her body grew heated. She felt her skin responding to the thought of being touched by him. Soon, she felt too hot. She let her cloak fall loose, breathing in the air as though it might cleanse her sins.
Laura slipped off her shoes, curling her toes against the rough sand.
The thought of feeling the icy water against her skin stirred something reckless in her, a small rebellion against the weight she carried.
She rose and stepped toward the waves, her skirts brushing the damp shoreline.
Just as she prepared to wade in, a familiar voice broke the stillness.
“Daenae think to put yer feet in there, lass,” Bradley called, his tone both stern and amused.
He strode toward her with long, purposeful steps, his dark hair tousled by the wind.
“The water’s too cold this time of year. I’ll nae have ye catch yer death for the sake of foolishness.” His eyes glimmered with a mixture of command and concern.
Laura froze, her face heating at being caught. “I thought only to wet me feet, naught more,” she said quickly, clutching her skirts. “It seemed harmless.” Yet under his gaze, she felt like a wayward child caught in mischief.
Bradley’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, though his brow furrowed.
“Harmless?” he echoed. “Lass, the water is cold enough to freeze yer bones. Ye’d be shiverin’ for days.”
He reached her side, towering over her with the same protective presence that both unsettled and comforted her.
Laura lowered her gaze, ashamed of the warmth stirring within her at his nearness.
“I meant nay harm,” she murmured. “The water looked so temptin’, I forgot meself a moment.”
The truth was that the water had promised relief from the fire within, and she had longed to feel that. Yet here he was, reminding her of her place, tethering her once more and making her body betray her by responding to his closeness.
Bradley’s voice softened, though the steel in it remained.
“Ye daenae ken how fragile ye are, lass. One misstep, one chill too deep, and ye’d be laid in bed sick. I cannae stand the thought of harm comin’ to ye.”
His words struck deep, the intensity in his tone both frightening and thrilling.
Laura dared a glance at him, her heart racing. “Why do ye care so much?” she asked before she could stop herself. The words hung in the air, trembling between them like a secret. She half-feared the answer, half-yearned for it.
He studied her, his eyes searching hers with a fire that made her breath catch. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the roar of the waves filled the silence.
Then he spoke low, almost as though confessing. “Because ye’re mine, Laura. And I’ll nae let aught or anything harm ye, even sickness.”
Her chest tightened at the raw certainty in his voice. She wanted to protest, to remind him she was her own woman, but her tongue faltered. Instead, she felt the echo of that kiss again, as though his words had brushed her lips. Shame and longing warred within her, leaving her unsteady on her feet.
Bradley reached out, steadying her with a hand at her elbow. His touch was firm, warm even against the chill of the wind, and she could not bring herself to pull away.
“Come, lass,” he said gently. “Let’s leave the water be. The shore is a fine place to watch, but nae to touch just now.”
Laura nodded faintly, though every part of her wished to argue.
Still, she allowed him to guide her back from the waves, her shoes dangling forgotten in her hand.
The waves roared behind them, wild and untamed, and she could not help but feel it mirrored her heart.
Her steps were steady, but her spirit was in turmoil.
As they walked side by side, Laura’s thoughts drifted once more to her own conflict. His protectiveness unsettled her, yet it also stirred a warmth that frightened her more than the cold water ever could. She had prayed for clarity, but instead her heart only tangled itself further in knots.
And though she wished to turn away from him, she could not deny that his presence pulled her in as surely as the tide pulled the water.