Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Laura’s brows knit together as she watched her husband stiffen, the openness she had glimpsed in him moments ago shuttering away behind a wall of stone.
His shoulders hunched as if bearing some invisible weight, and when he turned from her, it felt like the warmth vanished.
Her hand lifted slightly, as though she might reach for him, but he spoke before she could take a step closer.
His voice was low and rough, carrying the ache of a man retreating into himself.
“I’m goin’, lass,” Bradley muttered, his back still to her. “There’s work that needs me hand, and I’ll nae linger here longer.”
Laura blinked, her heart squeezing tight at the sudden distance between them. “Bradley, daenae close off now. Ye were speakin’ to me, truly speakin’, and I could see the man beneath all yer shadows. Why would ye hide yerself away again?”
He turned then, his face dark and brooding, eyes clouded as if some storm raged behind them.
“Because ye daenae ken, Laura,” he said sharply, though the pain beneath his words was plain. “The struggle I carry, the burden that gnaws at me each day. Best ye leave it where it lies.”
Her lips parted in protest, her hands trembling at her sides. “I only wish to understand ye. Must ye shut me out every time the truth comes close? Ye wound me more with silence than ye ever could with words.”
But Bradley only pressed his lips tight, his jaw set like iron. Without another word, he turned and strode from the chamber, his boots striking heavy against the floor until the sound faded into nothingness.
Laura stood alone, her heart aching as the door closed behind him. She did not chase after him, though every part of her longed to.
That night, she sat before the hearth in their chamber, brushing her hair with long, steady strokes, hoping to continue their conversation.
The firelight flickered against the mirror, but her eyes kept straying toward the door, waiting for him to enter.
She told herself he would come soon, that his brooding never lasted long.
Yet as the flames died low, the door remained shut.
Hidin’ from me, or hidin’ from yourself?
With a sigh, Laura slipped beneath the blankets, her gaze still fixed on the space where his bedroll often lay.
Sleep claimed her only after her prayers had been whispered, though unease lingered in her chest. The night pressed on, long and restless, filled with shadows that felt heavier without Bradley near.
When she woke, the moonlight spilled cold through the window, and the chamber was silent but for her own breathing.
Her eyes darted to the floor, but his bedroll was gone, untouched since the eve before.
A hollow ache spread through her as she realized he had not come at all.
She lay awake until dawn, her thoughts troubled, and wondered where her husband had disappeared into the dark.
“Ye cannae avoid me forever.”
Later that day, Laura walked through the garden of McCormack Castle. It lay nestled between stone walls that kept out the biting winds. Beds of heather and lavender spread in neat rows, their colors rich against the dark soil, while roses climbed the trellises with blooms of crimson and pale blush.
Bees hummed lazily about, drunk on the nectar of late summer, and the fountain at the garden’s heart gurgled soft and steady. It was a place of quiet beauty, made all the more serene by the distant cry of gulls circling above the cliffs.
Laura walked slowly along the gravel path, her fingers brushing the blossoms as though the touch alone might soothe her restless mind.
“Lass, may I walk with ye a while?” Cora approached.
“Of course, Cora. I always welcome yer company,” Laura replied.
They walked quietly. Beside her, Cora carried a small basket of linens she had been mending, her step light and her eyes warm with curiosity.
The woman’s presence always brought comfort, yet Laura could not rid herself of the weight that pressed heavily on her chest. She paused near the fountain, the cool spray misting her face, and sighed.
Cora tilted her head, studying her in silence for a moment before speaking. “Ye’re troubled, me Lady. I can see it plain as day, even among all these fair blooms. What weighs on yer heart so heavy that ye cannae smile?”
Laura’s lips trembled with a faint curve, but her voice carried her unease.
“It’s the Laird, Cora. One moment, he speaks like a brute, ordering me as though I’m naught but his possession, and the next he shields me from the chill of the water as if I were the most fragile of creatures. I cannae make sense of him.”
Cora gave a soft chuckle, though her eyes were kind. “Ah, the Laird has ever been that way. His heart is buried deep beneath duty and steel, and often his words come out rougher than he means. Daenae take it too hard, me Lady.”
Laura frowned, pulling at a rose petal until it fell into her hand.
“But last eve, he said he wished to protect me. He spoke with such fire, as if nay one should harm me again. Yet when I told him I already felt safe with him, he turned from me as though I’d struck him.
Why would a man retreat when his wife says such a thing? ”
Cora lowered her basket and perched upon the edge of the fountain, her gaze thoughtful. “Perhaps he fears what those words stir in him. He has ever been wed to his work, to the clan, to the sword at his side. Feelings daenae come easy to a man who’s carried such burdens.”
“I should feel glad then, should I nae? If he avoids me, it means I’ve nay longer to wrestle with this…this war inside meself. The less he comes close, the less I must fight me own longin’.”
Cora’s brow arched with quiet knowing. “Ye speak of it like a battle, yet I can hear the ache in yer voice. Perhaps ye care for him more than ye’d like to admit, aye?”
Laura shook her head quickly, though her cheeks flushed despite herself.
“Care for him? He frightens me with his temper, maddens me with his silence, and yet…aye, and yet when he draws close, it’s as though the ground falls away beneath me feet. What sense is there in such a thing?”
Cora reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Sense or nae, the heart follows its own path. Ye may try to deny it, but I ken well what I see in yer eyes. Ye are drawn to him, me Lady, though it troubles ye.”
“He acts as though he is naught but a monster. He told me once that he was born of monsters, that he couldnae love. How can I give me heart to a man who believes himself undeservin’ of it?”
Cora’s expression softened, and her voice carried a steadiness that reminded Laura of the sea at calm tide.
“Because sometimes, it is the love given that teaches a man he is worthy of it. Ye may be the first soul ever to make him see light where he thought only darkness lay. He may nae ken it yet, but ye change him, bit by bit.”
Laura’s throat tightened, and she turned away, staring at the lavender swaying in the breeze.
“If that were true, why does he flee when I offer him naught but me trust? I daenae understand him. I daenae ken if I have the strength to keep tryin’.
It leaves me raw, as though me heart is being pulled in two. ”
Cora rose and stood beside her, resting a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Then give yerself grace, me Lady. Ye daenae need to ken all the answers now. Bradley has his demons, aye, but I believe he also has room in his heart for ye, more than he kens himself.”
Laura let out a weary sigh, the sound mingling with the fountain’s trickle.
She wished she could believe Cora’s words without question, wished she could let her heart rest easy.
Yet deep inside, the storm of longing and doubt raged still, and she could not tell which would win.
For now, all she could do was walk among the blossoms and pray that one day, clarity would find her.
Suddenly, a faint bark came from a creature, thin yet persistent, echoing from beyond the hedges.
Laura stopped, tilting her head, her brow furrowed as she searched for the source.
The bark came again, followed by a pitiful whine, and her heart stirred with curiosity and concern.
Cora looked at her, puzzled, but Laura was already turning her steps toward the sound.
Dug into a burrow just under the wall, she found it, a small black puppy, its legs trembling.
Its fur was matted with dust, though still it shone faintly like midnight silk when the light struck it.
The wee beast’s ribs showed faintly through its skin, yet its eyes glowed bright and defiant, filled with a fire that refused to yield.
Laura’s breath caught, for something in that gaze struck her deeply; it was fierce, proud, and untamed, not unlike Bradley himself.
She crouched low, her skirts brushing the ground as she held out her hand.
“Och, ye poor thing,” she whispered, her voice soft with awe.
The puppy’s ears perked, and though its tail wagged weakly, its stance remained bold, as though it dared her to come closer.
Laura laughed gently, charmed beyond reason, and reached to scoop it into her arms. At once, it nestled against her chest, letting out a weary sigh, though its fiery eyes never dulled.
Cora shifted anxiously from foot to foot, her brow creased with worry. “Me lady, are ye certain? The Laird may nae take kindly to ye bringing strays into the castle.”
Laura hugged the small creature closer, her decision swift and sure. “Then I shall ask him meself, Cora. He cannae deny me this when the poor beast needs a home, and I…I feel as though it belongs with me.”
As they made their way back through the garden, the puppy nestled quietly in her arms, though its bright eyes darted about with sharp awareness. Servants bustled nearby, carrying baskets of vegetables or folded cloths, but the moment their gazes landed on the pup, their movements faltered.
Laura caught whispers, sharp and hurried, as heads bent together and voices dropped. Shock, even fear, seemed to ripple through them at the sight of the small animal in her arms.
She blinked in confusion, glancing down at the harmless bundle. “What is this?” she murmured, half to herself. “It’s naught but a pup.”
The dog gave a soft bark, lifting its head proudly, as if echoing her words.
Cora kept close, her voice hushed but urgent. “Me lady, they seem frightened. I daenae ken why, but there are old tales among the servants, tales I never paid heed. Perhaps they see more than we do.”
Laura pressed her lips into a firm line, her arms tightening protectively around the creature. “It’s a puppy, Cora. Small, hungry, and in need. I’ll nae be cowed by foolish tales.” Still, unease prickled at her as more mutterings followed her steps through the stone corridors of the castle.
By the time she reached the solar, the pup was asleep against her, its tiny body warm and fragile. Laura paused at the heavy oak door, her heart quickening, not from fear of Bradley, but from the anticipation of his reaction. She lifted her chin, pushed the door open, and entered.
Bradley stood at the far side of the room, bent over a table strewn with maps and parchment.
The sunlight from the tall windows carved lines of gold along his broad shoulders, his figure as imposing as ever.
He glanced up at once, his dark eyes narrowing with suspicion as he saw her.
Then his gaze dropped to the bundle in her arms, and a stillness fell over him like a gathering storm.
Laura swallowed, but her voice came steady as she stepped closer. “Bradley, I found him in the gardens. A pup, black as the midnight sky, with eyes that burn like fire. He is weak, aye, but he is strong of spirit, and I’ve decided I shall keep him.”
Bradley’s expression did not soften; instead, it hardened further, his jaw clenched tight. His gaze fixed upon the puppy as though it were no mere beast but something far darker.
Silence hung between them, heavy as stone, and Laura’s arms tightened once more around the sleeping dog.