Page 108 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"Lachlann MacNeil." She swatted his chest lightly, still laughing. "Ye're absolutely terrible."

"Aye." His eyes were soft on her face. "But I'm yers, if ye'll have me."

The laughter faded into something warmer, quieter.

Alba looked at their joined hands, his scarred and roughened from years of swords and ships, hers smaller and softer beside his.

"I'll have ye," she said quietly.

He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, holding them there for a long moment.

Around them, the courtyard had resumed its usual activity.

Grooms leading horses, servants crossing with supplies, guards returning to their posts. Life continuing as normal, utterly unaware that everything had just changed.

They walked together through the courtyard, hands still clasped, exchanging glances that held entire conversations without a single word.

Alba felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her, not uncomfortably, but like something precious and permanent settling into place.

"Calum might say no," she said after a while.

"He might."

"And if he daes?"

Lachlann was quiet for a moment. "Then we'll deal with it. Taegether." He glanced at her sideways. "But I ken me braither. He wants ye happy. And if I can convince him that I'll spend every day makin' certain of that, he’ll agree."

"He'll want tae murder ye first."

"Oh, absolutely." Lachlann's expression was resigned but amused. "He'll probably threaten me at least twice and question me intentions at least four times. David will make some cutting observation. Archibald will grunt and stare at me like he's decidin' where tae bury the body. And Euan will tease me, as usual."

Alba laughed again. "That sounds about right."

"But once they've all finished terrorizin' me, I hope they'll understand." His hand tightened on hers. "Because we're the Covenant. We've faced worse than one uncomfortable conversation."

"Have ye?"

"Probably nae," he admitted. "But I'm hopin' the sentiment carries."

They paused at the entrance to the great hall, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the stone steps.

"Go find Orla," Lachlann said, releasing her hand with obvious reluctance. "Ye'll want her tae hear this news before she hears it from someone else. I suspect Cook already saw us in the courtyard, which means the entire castle will ken within the hour."

"And what will ye dae?"

"Probably write another letter." He smiled ruefully. "This one tae the rest of the Covenant braithers, tae warn them before Calum daes."

"Coward."

"Tactical," he corrected. "Completely tactical."

She rose on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw before he could respond, then swept inside before the pink creeping up his neck could fully reach his face.

"These lads—" Orla gestured at the three dogs currently circling her feet with frantic enthusiasm, "—are completely out of control. Me lady, I've been in the kennels fer barely two minutes and I already have paw prints on me apron and somethin' wet on me boot."

"That's just Captain sayin' hello."

"I dinnae want Captain tae say hello." But Orla moved out of the dog's path with practiced resignation. "Here. Let me take one of those bowls before ye drop it."