Page 101 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"We've faced worse together me laird," Malcolm said, his sea-blue eyes serious.

"But we need tae be smart about this," James continued. "Reactin' emotionally is exactly what Torquil wants. He wants ye angry and reckless and makin' decisions that can be used against ye later."

"So what dae ye suggest?" Lachlann forced himself tae sit back down, tae think strategically rather than just wanting tae ride out and put his sword through Torquil's chest.

"First, we prepare fer the worst." James pulled out a map, spreading it across the table. "If this escalates tae actual conflict, we need our defenses ready. Fortifications strengthened. Supply lines secured. Alliances confirmed."

"I've already doubled the patrols," James continued. "And we're workin' on stockpilin' provisions in case of a siege."

"Good. But it's nae just about defendin' Barra." Lachlann's finger traced lines across the map. "Torquil will try tae isolate us. Cut off support. Turn other clans against us by makin' it seem like ye're the aggressor."

"So, we get ahead of it," The elder near the window said. "Send letters tae our allies explainin' the situation. Make sure they hear our side before Torquil's lies take root."

"And we need tae contact Calum." James chipped in looking at Lachlann. "He's Alba's braither and guardian. If anyone has the right tae speak against this false betrothal, it's him."

"He's in England," Malcolm said. "It'll take weeks tae get word tae him and receive a response."

"Then we send fast riders. Multiple routes in case one is intercepted." Lachlann made notes on a separate parchment. "And we make sure the message is clear, there was never a betrothal. Torquil's lyin' tae manipulate the Crown. We also have the letter from Calum where he wrote about the rumors he had heard and asks me tae protect his sister. We can use that tae convince the Crown as well."

Lachlann's mind raced, processing strategies and contingencies. This was what he'd been trained for—thinking three moves ahead, anticipating his opponent's tactics, preparing for multiple scenarios.

But it was harder when the stakes were Alba.

When failure didn't just mean losing territory or resources but losing her.

"What about the immediate threat?" he asked. "Torquil's petition tae the king is one thing. But he's nae the type tae wait patiently fer a royal decision. He'll be plannin' somethin' more direct."

"Agreed." James tapped the map. "We've already spotted increased activity along the mainland coast. Ships bein' provisioned. Men bein' rallied. He's buildin' up fer somethin'."

"An invasion?" Lachlann studied the possible approach routes. "He'd need significant forces tae take Barra by assault. The island's natural defenses are strong, and we've got the tactical advantage."

"Unless he's nae plannin' a direct assault," another council member said thoughtfully. "What if he's thinkin' blockade instead? Cutting off our supply lines, wait us out, force us tae either surrender Alba or watch our people starve?"

The thought sent cold fury through Lachlann's veins. "Then we make sure our supplies can last longer than his patience. And we prepare countermoves," he added. "If he blockades the island, we raid his supply ships. Make it costly fer him tae maintain the siege. Force him tae either commit fully or back down."

"He willnae back down," Malcolm said with certainty. "The man's pride is too great. He sees Alba as somethin' that should be his, and he'll tear the Highlands apart before he admits defeat."

"Then we make sure he loses anyway." The captain’s hand went to his sword hilt. "And if it comes tae battle, we make sure it's so decisive that he thinks twice before threatenin' any of us again."

Lachlann looked around the table at his council members and advisors, who had been there supporting him since he had became laird.

"Thank ye," he said quietly. "All of ye. Fer standin' with me on this."

"We're always with ye, me laird," Malcolm said simply. "We stand taegether. That's what we swore tae ye and yer faither, and that's what we'll dae."

The moment of levity passed quickly as they returned to strategic planning. For the following several hours, they worked through scenarios, marked positions on maps, drafted letters to allies, and coordinated their various clan forces.

By the time the meeting finally concluded, the sun had set and candles burned low in their holders.

They filed out, leaving Lachlann alone with James.

"Ye should rest," James said. "Ye've been up since before dawn, and ye look like hell."

"I'm fine."

"Ye're exhausted. And ye'll be nay good tae anyone if ye collapse from lack of sleep." James crossed his arms. "Go tae yer chamber. Get some rest. I'll wake ye if anythin' urgent develops."

Lachlann wanted to argue, but his body was already agreeing with James. The adrenaline that had carried him through the meeting was fading, leaving exhaustion in its wake.