Page 61 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "Fer bringin’ trouble tae yer lands."

"Stop." Lachlann's grip on her face gentled, but his voice remained firm. "This is nae yer fault. Ye hear me? What Torquil daes, what he chooses, none of that is on ye."

"But—"

"Eat," he said softly, pulling back and picking up his own forgotten bread. "Before it gets cold and ye have grounds tae scold me further."

She managed a weak smile. "I'm very good at scoldin'."

"Terrifyin’, even." He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Remind me never tae cross ye."

"Too late fer that. Ye've already walked in on me bathin'."

"Accidentally."

"Yer face when ye turned around." Alba laughed despite everything, the sound surprising her. "I thought ye might expire from pure mortification."

"I was bein' a gentleman."

"Ye were bein' ridiculous." She tore off another piece of bread, offering it to him. "Though I suppose I should thank ye fer yer restraint."

He took the bread from her fingers, his lips brushing her skin. "Should ye now?"

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. "Aye. Most men wouldnae have⁠—"

"I'm nae most men, Alba." His eyes held hers. "And ye're nae just any woman."

The air between them shifted, growing warm and charged. Alba's pulse quickened.

"We should eat," she said, her voice not quite steady.

"Aye." But neither of them moved.

Lachlann broke first, reaching for the cheese and cutting a small piece. He held it up to her lips. "Open."

Alba's eyes widened. "What are ye⁠—"

"Open," he repeated, his voice dropping lower. "Unless ye plan to lecture me about table manners?"

She opened her mouth.

The cheese melted on her tongue, rich and sharp. Lachlann's gaze tracked the movement of her throat as she swallowed, his attention so focused it made her skin prickle with awareness.

"Yer turn," Alba managed, cutting a piece for him.

He accepted it, his lips closing around her fingers briefly before she could pull away. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers down her spine.

They fell into a rhythm after that, feeding each other small bites, conversation flowing easily between mouthfuls.

The tension didn't disappear, but it transformed into something softer. Something intimate.

"Dae ye remember," Lachlann said, reaching for his cup, "that summer when Calum convinced us all tae go swimmin' in Loch Moy?"

Alba laughed. "The one where Euan nearly drowned because he forgot about his leg?"

"He didnae forget. He was just too stubborn to admit he shouldnae be divin' off rocks." Lachlann grinned at the memory.

"I remember." Alba's smile turned mischievous. "I also remember ye losin' yer balance and fallin' in fully clothed."