Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Laura breathed in the crisp air. The morning mist hung low as she walked with Cora along the worn path. Angus trotted ahead, his tail swaying proudly, his nose pressed to the earth. They continued across the bridge to the mainland.
“It’s a bonnie mornin’, is it nae, me Lady?” Cora said, her tone light as she brushed a strand of hair from her brow.
Laura smiled softly, her cheeks flushed pink from the chill. “Aye, it is beautiful. I’ve grown to love this place, Cora. I can finally see meself settlin’ here, truly. I daenae feel like an outsider anymore.”
Cora chuckled and gave a teasing glance. “Oh, does a certain Laird have anythin’ to do with that sudden change of heart?”
Laura’s face warmed deeper than the morning sun could manage. “Och, Cora, ye’ll make me blush. But aye… I suppose Bradley has somethin’ to do with it. He’s been kind, more than I ever expected. I’m happy… content, even.”
Cora grinned and adjusted her shawl as they walked. “I’ve seen the change in ye, lass. Ye’ve got a glow about ye now. The kind that only comes when a woman’s heart is settled. And when her husband looks at her, as if she’s the sun risin’ over his fields.”
Laura laughed softly, brushing her gloved hands together. “Ye always ken how to make me flustered. But it’s true, I feel somethin’ deep here, a peace I didnae think I’d ever ken. The folk, the land… it’s become me home.”
“Aye,” Cora said with a satisfied nod. “That’s the way of it. Takes time, but these lands have a way of sinkin’ into the soul. Ye’ll never shake it now.”
Laura looked out over the rolling hills, a faint smile resting on her lips. “When I first arrived, I thought I’d never belong. Now, I cannae imagine bein’ anywhere else. Even the cold feels softer somehow.”
“Ha!” Cora let out a hearty laugh. “That’s love talk if I ever heard it. Next ye’ll be sayin’ ye love the storms and the midges too.”
Laura joined in her laughter. “Daenae push yer luck, Cora. I’m fond, aye, but nae daft.”
As they turned down the bend in the road, Angus suddenly stopped, his body stiffening. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he stared toward the rise ahead.
Laura followed his gaze and saw the shape of a dark carriage rolling slowly toward them, its wheels crunching over the frozen earth.
Cora’s laughter faded at once. She stepped closer to Laura, her hand gripping her arm. “We should turn back, me Lady,” she whispered. “There’s nay reason for a carriage to be comin’ this way from the mainland this early. We’d best get back to the castle.”
Laura hesitated, her breath misting in front of her. “Do ye think it’s trouble?”
“I think it’s best nae to wait and find out,” Cora muttered, her eyes narrowing. “Angus feels it too. Dogs ken before folk do.”
Angus barked sharply now, his fur bristling as the carriage drew nearer. Laura’s heart began to hammer in her chest, her earlier peace replaced by a creeping sense of dread. The sun had dipped behind a cloud, casting the land in shadow, and the sound of hooves echoed in her ears.
“Maybe it’s a messenger,” Laura offered, though her voice trembled. “Bradley might be expectin’ word from the council or the port.”
Cora shook her head, her jaw tight. “If it were from the council, they’d send a man on horseback.”
The carriage slowed as it came closer, its curtains drawn tight. Laura stepped back, clutching the edge of her cloak as a chill not born of the weather crawled down her spine.
“Cora… perhaps I made a mistake crossin’ the bridge on foot. Bradley warned me nae to go far from the castle.”
“Aye,” Cora said, tugging her gently by the arm. “He’ll have me head if ye come to harm. Come, lass, let’s get ye home.”
But Laura could barely move, torn between fear and curiosity. The driver’s face was hidden beneath a dark hat, and the horses snorted clouds of steam as they came to a stop just yards away. The door of the carriage creaked open, slowly and deliberately.
Angus barked, stepping in front of Laura with his teeth bared.
Laura’s pulse raced. “Cora… who could it be?”
“I daenae ken,” Cora murmured, eyes fixed on the carriage. “But whoever it is, I’ve a feelin’ ye’ll wish they’d stayed far from these lands.”
The wind howled through the moors as the figure began to emerge, and Laura felt her stomach twist into a knot. The peace she’d found over the past week felt as fragile as glass, and in that instant, she feared it might all come shattering down.
From within stepped a tall, proud woman wrapped in dark furs. Her posture was regal, her chin high as if the very air around her owed her respect. The years had not softened her. Her beauty was sharp and cold, her eyes the color of slate and twice as unforgiving.
Cora froze beside Laura, then bent low into a curtsy, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Ophelia,” Cora breathed, trembling. “We hadnae expected yer return.”
Laura blinked, her pulse quickening.
Bradley’s mother.
The name struck her like a blow. She stepped forward, gathering her composure, and said with quiet grace, “I am Lady Laura McCormack, wife of the Laird.”
Ophelia’s eyes slid over her from head to toe, her expression souring with every passing moment.
“Ye?” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Ye’re the lass me son wed? I can scarcely believe it. He must have been desperate indeed. Who is yer family? What wealth did ye bring to the clan?”
Laura straightened, refusing to shrink beneath the woman’s gaze. “I am the Laird’s wife, aye, and mistress of McCormack Castle,” she said firmly. “If ye’ve come here on business, Ophelia, perhaps ye should speak with yer son about it.”
Ophelia’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Me son? The same son who turned his back on his own blood? Who banished his maither from her home like a common criminal? Nay, lass. I daenae take orders from the boy I raised. I’ll nae ask permission to return to what is mine by right. He must obey me.”
Angus growled low beside Laura, the hair along his back standing. The sound rumbled deep in his throat, a warning that mirrored Laura’s unease. She placed a calming hand on his head, though her own voice trembled slightly when she spoke.
“Ye were exiled, Ophelia. There must have been a reason for it. The Laird doesnae act without cause.”
Ophelia’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Mind yer tongue, girl. Ye ken nothin’ of what passes between a maither and her son.
Bradley was always too easily led, too weak to see the truth for what it was.
And now he’s been ensnared by some pretty face who thinks wearin’ his ring makes her queen of the Highlands. ”
Laura felt her cheeks flush, but she refused to lower her gaze. “I’m nae a queen, but I am his wife. And as such, I’ll nae have ye speak ill of the man.”
Ophelia gave a cold, mocking smile. “Ye ken nothin’ of the McCormacks or the blood that runs in our veins. I’ve returned to restore what was lost, to remind me son who he truly is.”
Laura’s hands clenched at her sides, her voice firm though her heart pounded. “Whatever wrong ye think was done, it’s nae me place to mend it. The Laird’s word is law in these lands. If ye wish to challenge it, ye’ll need to face him, nae me.”
Ophelia took a step closer, her perfume thick and cloying, her expression cruel. “Oh, but ye are me concern, lass. Ye’ve taken me title, me place, and me son’s loyalty. I am the Lady of McCormack Castle, and ye’re naught but a temporary decoration on his arm.”
Laura stood her ground, though the wind bit through her cloak. “That’s a lie, and ye ken it. Bradley wed me out of choice, nae duty. The folk of the glen see me as their lady, and so does he. Ye cannae change that with words spat like venom.”
Ophelia’s lip curled. “Choice? Hah! Me son wouldnae ken choice if it struck him with lightnin’. He was always his faither’s puppet, and now, it seems, he’s yers. Tell me, lass, did ye charm him with tears or tempt him with a warm bed?”
Laura’s breath caught, and for a moment she could only stare. “How dare ye speak so shamefully?” she said, her voice low but burning. “Ye dishonor yer own blood with such cruelty.”
“Cruelty?” Ophelia echoed, stepping nearer still until their faces were but inches apart.
“I’ll tell ye what cruelty is, lass; it’s bein’ cast aside like refuse by yer own kin, left to rot while strangers rule the hearth ye built.
Ye’ve taken what’s mine, and I’ll nae stand by while ye play at being mistress. ”
Laura met her glare, every word a careful blade. “Ye forfeited that right when ye betrayed yer son’s trust. If exile was his judgment, then it was justly earned. I willnae argue the matter further, nae here, nae without him present.”
Angus growled again, louder this time, and Cora stepped nervously between them. “Ladies, please,” she stammered, glancing toward the castle road. “This isnae the place for such talk. Let us return to the keep. I’ll fetch the Laird straightaway.”
But neither woman moved. The tension between them was as taut as a bowstring.
Ophelia’s eyes gleamed with malice as she tilted her head, a thin smile curling her lips.
“So that’s how it is. Ye think hidin’ behind me son will protect ye.
We’ll see how long that lasts when he learns his wife has nay spine of her own. ”
Laura drew a deep breath, her voice cold and measured. “Say what ye will. I willnae trade insults with a woman who refuses to face her own sins. Ye’ve returned uninvited, Lady McCormack. Ye should leave before he learns ye’re here.”
Ophelia’s eyes flashed with fury. “He willnae turn me away again,” she hissed. “Nay matter what lies ye’ve fed him. I am his maither, and that name carries more weight than any vow he’s made to ye.”
Laura took a slow step forward, the wind catching the edge of her cloak. “Then ye best prepare for disappointment. The man I ken stands by his word. He’ll nae bow to the ghosts of his past, nae even for ye.”
For a moment, silence reigned between them, broken only by the restless snorts of the horses.
Then Ophelia smiled, not kindly, but like a wolf baring its teeth.
“We’ll see, lass. We’ll see what kind of woman holds me son’s heart, and whether ye’re strong enough to keep it when I take back what’s mine. ”
Cora’s hand clutched Laura’s arm, trembling with urgency. “Come, me Lady,” she whispered, her voice tight. “We must get back to the castle before this turns worse.”
Laura nodded faintly, her heart still pounding from the encounter, but before they could take a step, Ophelia’s sharp voice cut through the air like a lash.
“Ye’ll nae turn yer back on me. And how dare yer filthy maid give orders,” Ophelia spat, her tone dripping with contempt. “Ye forget yer place, girl, I am yer better, and ye’ll stand here when I speak to ye.”
Cora froze, her face flushing red with shame, her hand trembling. Laura’s stomach twisted, fury rising in her chest like a tide.
“That’s enough,” Laura said, her voice clear and strong. She stepped between them, her chin lifting with quiet authority. “Ye’ll nae speak to her that way. Cora is a loyal friend, and ye’ll show her the respect she’s due.”
Ophelia’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “A friend?” she mocked. “Ye shame the title of lady, standin’ up for the likes of her.”
Laura’s eyes blazed. “Then I’ll gladly shame it, for I’ll nae stand idle while ye insult good folk. Ye’ll apologize to her now.”