Page 16 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"James will bring food. Blankets are in the chest." He moved toward the door. "Rest."

"Lachlann."

He stopped.

"Thank ye," she said.

He turned back.

She was sitting with her hands in her lap, looking at him with an openness that was somehow worse than any argument she could have made.

He stood there for a moment with several things he didn't say pressing at the back of his teeth.

"Ye dinnae need tae thank me," he said finally. "Get some rest."

He closed the door behind him.

He stood in the passage for a moment, his hand still on the door, listening to the sounds of the boat. The voices on deck, the footsteps, the water against the hull, until he was certain his expression had settled into something unremarkable.

Then he went to tell his crew to set sail.

CHAPTER FIVE

Lachlann made his way to the galley, his boots heavy on the wooden planks despite his attempt to move quietly.

The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through his veins, making his movements sharp and restless. His shoulder ached where the dirk had caught him, but he'd had much worse.

What he couldn't shake was the image of Torquil's dagger at Alba's throat. The thin line of blood. The terror in her eyes.

The galley was small but well-organized, tucked into the bow of the ship where the gentle rock of the waves was most pronounced. James was already there, after bringing Alba her food, securing loose supplies and checking that everything was properly stowed for the crossing.

"How is she?" James asked without looking up from his work.

"Exhausted. Terrified. But unharmed, mostly." Lachlann ran a hand through his hair, finding it still damp with sweat. "She'll be fine once she's had some rest."

"And bringing her tae Barra, that was the only option?"

It wasn't quite a question, but Lachlann heard the doubt beneath it anyway. "Aye. Torquil had men blockin’ every road tae Oban. We couldnae get through without a fight, and she'd already suffered enough."

James turned then, his hazel eyes sharp and assessing. "That's nae what I asked."

"Then ask what ye mean tae ask, James. I'm too tired fer games."

"Was bringin’ her here wise?" James set down the crate he'd been securing and crossed his arms. "Ye ken as well as I dae that harborin’ another clan's daughter could bring complications. Political ones."

"Naething will happen to her while she's under me protection." Lachlann's voice was flat, brooking no argument. "Especially nae while her braither is away in England, unable tae defend her himself."

"I'm nae questionin’ yer ability tae protect her," James said carefully. "I'm questionin’ whether bringin’ her all the way tae Barra was necessary, or if there were other⁠—"

"There were nay other options." Lachlann moved past James to the small stove, checking that the fire was still burning steadily. "Calum is me braither in everything but blood. The Covenant binds us. If I'd left Alba tae fend fer herself, if I'd let Torquil take her, I'd be betrayin’ everything the Covenant stands fer."

"Aye, I understand that." James watched him closely. "But yer concern daesnae sound like obligation alone, Lachlann."

Lachlann's hands stilled on the kettle he'd been reaching for. "Drop it, James."

"I'm just saying⁠—"

"I said drop it." He turned away, filling the kettle from the water barrel and setting it carefully over the fire. "Alba is Calum's sister. She's under me protection because of the Covenant and because it's the right thing tae dae. That's all there is tae it."