Page 38 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

Alba's shoulders relaxed slightly, like she'd been bracing for an argument. "Thank ye."

"But ye'll ride with the group. Nay wanderin' off, nay strayin' from the men." His voice was firm. "And if I say we need tae leave, we leave. Understood?"

"Understood." She paused, then added, "May I have a horse for the trip? I'd rather nae ride doubled with someone if I can help it."

Lachlann gestured toward the row of stalls deeper in the stable. "Choose whichever one ye like. Though I'd suggest one of the gentler mares if ye're nae used tae⁠—"

"I can ride," Alba interrupted, a flash of irritation crossing her face.

"I wasnae questionin' yer skill," Lachlann said mildly, turning back to his tack. "Just offerin' advice."

He heard her huff slightly, then the sound of her footsteps moving deeper into the stable. Lachlann returned his attention to his saddle, checking the girth and making sure everything was secure.

Around him, his men were preparing their own mounts—James, Duncan, and three others he'd chosen for the day's ride.

They worked efficiently, the familiar routine of preparing for a journey requiring little discussion.

"The lady's comin' with us?" James asked quietly, appearing at Lachlann's elbow.

"Aye."

"Is that wise?"

"Probably nae. But she needs tae get out of the castle, and I'd rather have her where I can see her than have her sneakin' off on her own later." Lachlann kept his voice low. "Ye ken how stubborn she is."

"I'm beginnin’ tae," James said, amusement coloring his tone. "She reminds me of someone else I ken."

"Shut up, James."

His friend's quiet laughter followed him as Lachlann moved to check on the other horses. He was halfway down the row of stalls when he heard it—a startled whinny, followed by the sharp sound of hooves striking wood.

Lachlann spun around just in time to see Alba stumble backward as a large black mare reared in her stall, ears pinned flat against her skull.

He moved without thinking, crossing the distance in three long strides and grabbing the mare's halter. The horse fought him for a moment, tossing her head and trying to pull free, but Lachlann held firm, speaking in low, soothing tones until she settled.

"Are ye hurt?" he demanded, turning to Alba once the mare had calmed. "Did she strike ye?"

"I'm fine," Alba said sharply, her cheeks flushed. "And I had it under control."

"Ye were nearly knocked on yer arse," Lachlann shot back, his heart still racing from the burst of adrenaline. "Fergive me fer nae wantin' tae see ye trampled."

"I ken how to handle a spooked horse, Lachlann. I told ye I can ride."

"And I willnae apologize fer makin' sure ye're unharmed." He kept his grip on the halter, the mare's hot breath huffing against his arm. " Shadow is temperamental at the best of times, and she daesnae take kindly tae strangers."

"Then maybe ye shouldnae have told me tae choose whichever horse I liked," Alba retorted, her eyes flashing.

The tension between them was sharp enough to cut. Lachlann was very aware that his men had stopped working and were watching this exchange with poorly concealed interest.

"Fine," he said, stepping back and releasing the halter. "She's all yers. If ye think ye can handle her."

Alba's chin lifted. "I can handle her just fine."

She moved toward the stall again, more slowly this time. Lachlann stayed close enough to intervene if needed, but far enough back that he wouldn't interfere.

Shadow's ears were still pinned, her eyes showing white at the corners. But Alba didn't rush. She just stood at the edge of the stall, one hand extended, and began speaking in a low, steady voice.

Lachlann couldn't make out the words, but the tone was soothing. Patient. After a long moment, Shadow's ears began to swivel forward, her posture relaxing incrementally.