Page 34 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"Storm, sit." Lachlann's voice was firm but patient.

The largest dog—the shaggy grey beast—immediately dropped to his haunches, tail wagging.

"Good lad. Now, Bracken, yer turn."

A second dog, lean and rust-colored, took longer to obey, circling once more before finally sitting.

Lachlann waited him out, not moving, not repeating the command. Just standing there with infinite patience until the dog decided to comply.

"Better. Captain, sit."

The third dog, sleek and black as her namesake, sat immediately, her intelligent eyes fixed on Lachlann's face.

Alba found herself smiling despite the turmoil of the morning.

There was something so... peaceful about watching him like that. The fierce warrior who'd cut through Torquil's men was nowhere to be seen. That was just a man working with his animals, gentle and patient and completely at ease.

"Down," Lachlann said, and all three dogs dropped to their bellies.

He crouched down, running his hands over each of them in turn, checking paws and coats, murmuring praise. The dogs leaned into his touch, tails thumping against the ground.

Alba shifted slightly, and a twig snapped under her foot.

Lachlann's head came up immediately, his grey eyes finding hers across the garden. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and Alba felt her cheeks warm at being caught watching him.

"I didnae mean tae disturb ye," she said, stepping forward. "I came fer some air and didnae realize anyone was here."

"Ye're nae disturbin' anything." Lachlann stood, and the dogs immediately surged to their feet, alert and curious. "I was just workin' through their commands. They get restless if I neglect their trainin' too long."

Alba moved closer, eyeing the dogs cautiously. They were large, much larger up close, and she wasn't entirely certain of their temperament.

"They willnae hurt ye," Lachlann said, reading her hesitation. "They're well-trained. Here, let me introduce ye properly."

He gestured to the grey dog. "This is Storm. He's the oldest and the steadiest of the lot." Storm's tail wagged at the sound of his name. "That's Bracken"—the rust-colored dog perked up—"and Captain."

The black dog moved forward before Lachlann could say more, nosing at Alba's hand with surprising gentleness. Alba held still, letting the dog sniff her fingers, her palm.

"Captain, back," Lachlann said, but the dog ignored him, instead sitting directly at Alba's feet and looking up at her with bright, hopeful eyes.

"Well," Lachlann said, sounding amused. "That's unexpected."

"What is?" Alba tentatively reached down to touch Captain's head. The dog's tail began wagging so hard his whole body wiggled.

"Captain daesnae take tae strangers. Ever." Lachlann crossed his arms, watching with undisguised surprise. "He barely tolerates most of me own men. But he's actin' like ye're his long-lost favorite person."

As if to prove his point, Captain leaned heavily against Alba's legs, then suddenly dropped to the ground and rolled onto her back, exposing his belly in complete trust.

Alba laughed––she couldn't help it––and knelt down to scratch the dog's stomach. Captain's back leg kicked in pure bliss.

"I've never seen him dae that with anyone but me," Lachlann said, and there was something warm in his voice that made Alba's chest tight. "He's chosen ye, it seems."

The other two dogs, not wanting to be left out, crowded closer. Storm nudged Alba's shoulder with his massive head, while Bracken circled around to sniff her hair.

"Hello," Alba murmured, giving Storm attention while still rubbing Captain's belly. "Ye're all very sweet, arenae ye?"

"They're workin' dogs," Lachlann said, but he was smiling. "They're nae supposed tae be sweet."

"Too late. They're sweet." Alba looked up at him, still kneeling among the dogs. "Ye must’ve taught them tae be sweet."