Page 54 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"Were ye now?" James glanced meaningfully at the window she'd just been pressed against. "That's a fine spot fer... walkin'."

"It offers a pleasant view of the grounds."

"Aye." His mouth twitched. "Very pleasant, I'm sure."

Alba's face burned hotter. "If ye'll excuse me⁠—"

"The laird's gone back inside," James said casually. "Looked like he was in a hurry about somethin'. Almost like he'd seen—" He paused, his gaze sliding back to her. "—somethin' that required his immediate attention."

"Thank ye, but I wasnae lookin’ fer him."

"Course ye werenae, me lady." James stepped aside, gesturing down the corridor. "Enjoy the rest of yer walk."

Alba gathered what remained of her dignity and swept past him, keeping her spine straight and her pace measured despite the urge to flee. She could feel his amused gaze following her.

The corridor seemed longer than before. Each window she passed felt like a test she was failing. She kept her eyes forward, her breathing carefully controlled, her thoughts⁠—

Stop thinkin' about him.

But she could still see it. The way his muscles had moved. The sheen of sweat on his skin. The intensity in his eyes as he'd⁠—

"Alba."

She froze.

Lachlann's voice came from behind her, low and rough. Footsteps approached—measured, deliberate, closing the distance between them with each step.

"Hello," she said quickly, not turning around. "I’m walkin'. Orla said I should walk."

"Ye're walkin' very fast fer someone who's just enjoyin' the afternoon."

"I walk at whatever pace pleases me."

"Dae ye now?" His voice was closer. Much closer. "And daes it please ye tae walk away from me?"

Alba's hands clenched her skirts. "I wasnae walkin' away from ye. I was simply⁠—"

"Ye were watchin' me."

Her breath hitched. "I was daein' nay such thing."

"Alba." He was right behind her now. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Turn around."

"I'd rather nae."

"Why?"

"Because I—" She pressed her eyes shut. "Because I'm perfectly fine where I am, thank ye."

A pause. Then his hand, gentle but firm, touched her elbow.

"Please, lass. Look at me."

The softness in his voice undid her.

Alba turned slowly, keeping her gaze fixed somewhere around his chest. Which proved to be a mistake, because although he'd pulled his shirt back on, he had left it unlaced at the throat, and she could still see⁠—

"Higher," Lachlann murmured.