Page 123 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"Warn them." He was already moving up the path from the dock. "Quietly. I dinnae want panic, but I want them ready."

The great hall had the particular charged atmosphere of a place that understood something had shifted. The men assembled quickly.

Word traveled in a castle the way it always did, faster than anyone sent it, and by the time Lachlann spread the map across the long table, there were a dozen of his senior men ranged around it, reading his expression and drawing their own conclusions.

"The vessel that came in just now'," Lachlann began, "carries a royal warrant fer the return of the Lady Alba. It's signed in the king's name but Torquil's hand is behind it."

He let that settle before continuing. "There are additional ships holdin' beyond the headland. We dinnae yet ken how many men they're carryin', but we'll assume the worst and be glad tae be wrong."

He moved his finger along the map. "The eastern approach is the most vulnerable, the tree line comes close enough tae the road tae conceal a significant force until they're nearly at the gate. I want that gap closed."

"How close dae ye think they'll come?" asked Ruadhri, the eldest of his captains, a lean grey-haired man who had seen enough of these things to ask precise questions.

"Close enough tae make their point," Lachlann said. "Whether that means the gate or the glen, I dinnae yet ken." He looked around the table. "What I dae ken is that they're expectin' us tae hand her over or hesitate. We willnae dae either."

"The king's warrant—" Ruadhri began.

"Is based on a misrepresentation of her circumstances," Lachlann said flatly. "I'll be writin' tae the king directly. Until that letter reaches him and he has the truth of the matter, we operate as though that warrant is worth naethin'. Because it is."

"And if Torquil moves before yer letter arrives?" Ruadhri pressed.

"Then he moves, and we answer it." Lachlann held the older man's gaze. "Are ye with me on this, Ruadhri?"

Ruadhri looked at him for a long moment. The look of a man running sums, checking the weight of loyalty against the weight of a royal warrant, and then he straightened.

"Aye, me laird," he said. "We're with ye."

No one else argued. They knew him well enough for that.

"Ye," Lachlann said, turning to the youngest captain at the table. "The weapons stores, what's our state?"

"Swords and axes are well stocked," he replied. "Arrows we could stand tae double. I can have men fletchin’ through the night if ye want."

"Dae it." He looked to the next man. "And ye, the horses?"

"Ready. Twenty fit fer hard ridin', another dozen fer support."

"Good." He scanned the faces around the table. "Naebody moves without me word. Naebody engages without me word. If Torquil's men so much as cough on me land, I want tae hear about it, but I dinnae want blood shed over a cough. Is that clear?"

A chorus of ayes.

"Then get tae it."

No one argued. They moved.

He was going through the weapons stores when he heard her step in the corridor. He knew it, had known it for long enough now that the sound of it registered before he consciously identified it, and he straightened from the crate and turned.

Alba stood in the doorway of the armory, her eyes moving quickly over the room. The crates being opened, the blades being checked, the particular purposeful activity that left nothing ambiguous about what was being prepared for. She looked at him.

"Tell me what's happenin'," she said.

"We've received a royal warrant fer yer return tae yer family," he said. He had decided, after the solar, that directness was what she required from him, and he gave it to her now without softening. "Torquil's behind it. The men who delivered it are holdin' beyond the headland. I've sent them off the dock and put scouts on the approaches."

She absorbed this with the stillness she had when information landed hard but she was determined not to show it.

"What can I dae?" she said.

"Stay safe," he said.