Page 63 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

They sprang apart as James strode in, stopping short when he saw them.

"Sorry to interrupt me laird," he said, though his expression suggested he wasn't sorry at all. "Just wanted tae let ye ken everythin’ is ready fer the patrol tomorrow."

“That’s good tae ken, James.”

James coughed. "I'll just... leave ye tae what ye were daein’ then."

He was out the door before either of them could respond.

Alba turned to Lachlann, finding him already watching her with an intensity that stole her breath.

"Unfinished business?" he asked softly.

"Aye." She stepped closer, tilting her face up. "Something about showin' me how accomplished ye are. In the water and... other things."

His arms came around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Lass," he murmured against her lips, "that's goin' tae take considerably more than one night."

"Then ye’re lucky," Alba whispered back, "that I'm nae goin' anywhere."

His kiss swallowed whatever else she might have said, deep and claiming and full of promise.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Ye're goin' tae wear a hole in that floor, me lady."

Alba jerked her head up from where she'd been staring at the flagstones, finding Orla watching her with concerned eyes.

"I'm just⁠—"

"Stop pretendin' ye're fine when ye're clearly worried sick." Orla moved closer, her voice softening. "He'll be back soon, me lady. Captain Fraser said it was just a routine patrol."

"I ken that." Alba turned back to the window, her fingers gripping the stone sill. "I ken he's perfectly capable and surrounded by trained men but Torquil⁠—"

"I ken, and ye're goin' tae fret until he walks through those gates."

Alba's shoulders sagged. "Aye."

"Then at least fret while sittin' down. Ye've been on yer feet since dawn."

"I cannae sit. I need tae..." Alba trailed off, searching for something—anything—to occupy her restless energy. "There must be somethin' that needs daein'."

Orla sighed, recognizing a losing battle when she saw one. "The solar needs organizin'. Lady MacNeil was particular about keepin' it tidy before she passed, but it's been somewhat neglected of late."

"Perfect." Alba stated walking. "I'll start there."

The solar sat on the castle's eastern side, its windows overlooking the training grounds and, beyond that, the vast expanse of moorland stretching toward the coast. Alba tried not to look as she worked, tried to focus instead of scanning the horizon for riders.

She failed spectacularly.

Every few minutes, her gaze would drift to those windows. To the empty road. To the sky growing slowly darker as afternoon stretched toward evening.

He's fine. He has tae be fine. James wouldnae have let him go if there was real danger.

But the voice in her head refused to quiet.

Alba moved to the next shelf, her movements mechanical. The room smelled of old leather and beeswax, comfortable and familiar despite it being only her second week in the castle.