Page 107 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"Ye did absolutely naethin' wrong." Alba felt heat rise in her cheeks at the memory. "Ye did... several things very right, actually."

Lachlann's laugh was low and warm. "Several."

"Dinnae let it go tae yer head."

"Too late." But his expression softened as they rounded the final curve and the castle came into view. "Alba, there's somethin' I need tae

"Lachlann—"

They'd spoken simultaneously. Both stopped.

"Ye first," Alba said.

"Nay, ye go."

"I was just goin' tae say thank ye." She smiled at him. "Fer today." She gestured vaguely, unable to quite find words for everything the afternoon had held. "All of it."

"Aye, well." Lachlann cleared his throat, a rare hint of color touching his jaw. "Thank me after I say what I'm about to say."

They rode through the castle gates, hooves ringing against stone as grooms came forward to take the horses. Lachlann dismounted first and went to Alba's side, helping her down with both hands at her waist.

But he didn't step back.

And then, to Alba's utter astonishment, he went down on one knee.

Right there in the courtyard, with grooms watching and a guard blinking from his post on the wall.

Lachlann MacNeil, Laird of Clan MacNeil, one of the five men of the Loch Eilein Covenant, knelt on the cobblestones and took her hand in both of his.

"Alba MacKinnon." His storm-grey eyes held hers steadily, nerves visible in them for the first time. "I ken the timin’ is terrible. I ken we're in the middle of a courtyard and there are at least three people starin' at us right now, and I probably should have planned this better."

"Lachlann."

"Let me finish. Please." He tightened his grip on her hand. "I've spent years tellin' meself that ye were forbidden. That wantin' ye was a betrayal of Calum, of the Covenant, of every promise I'd ever made. And I believed it. Or I tried tae." His jaw worked. "But today, seein' ye laugh in the water and listen to the old stories and look at me like I was somethin' worth havin', I realized I didnae want tae spend another single day pretendin' this wasnae everythin'."

Alba's throat had gone tight, her eyes burning.

"So I'm askin' ye." Lachlann's voice dropped lower. "Nae because of Torquil or politics or any of the thousand reasons I could give ye. But because I want ye here. In this castle. In me life. Because I love ye, Alba, and I think I have fer a very long time." He paused. "Would ye marry me? Stay here, at Barra, fer good?"

The courtyard was absolutely silent.

Alba looked down at that man, that stubborn, brave, complicated man who'd turned her world completely upside down, and felt something settle in her chest with perfect, unshakeable certainty.

"Aye," she said. "Yes."

Lachlann rose immediately, her hand still clasped in his, and the smile that broke across his face was unlike anything she'd seen from him before. Unguarded. Completely, radiantly happy.

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in Alba's chest, startled and delighted all at once.

She pressed her free hand to her mouth, trying to contain it, but it escaped anyway, bright and unrestrained, echoing off the courtyard walls.

"Ye impossible man," she managed between laughs. "Ye've already sent the letter. What if I hadnae agreed?"

"Aye, well." He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face with his free hand. "I thought if ye said nay, I could always write another letter tellin' Calum tae disregard the first one."

"And what would that letter have said?"

"'Dear Calum, never mind, yer sister came tae her senses.'"