Page 37 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"Aye. It is." He slid the ring back onto his finger, and she saw the way his hand seemed to relax once it was in place. Like he wasn't quite whole without it. "But it also means somethin’. It means I'm part of somethin’ bigger than meself. That me life has purpose beyond just... existin’."

There was something raw in his voice, something that made Alba want to reach out and touch his hand. To offer comfort for a weight she was only beginning to understand.

"Yer faither chose well," she said instead. "Givin' it tae ye."

Lachlann's expression softened. "Thank ye fer bringing it back. I'd have been lost without it."

A voice from inside the office called out—James, asking something about the village route. Lachlann glanced back, then returned his attention to Alba.

"I should go. But thank ye. Truly."

"It was naethin’."

"It wasnae naethin’ Alba." His voice was firm, but gentle.

Her name on his lips, said like that—warm and sincere and something close to tender—made her heart stutter.

"I should let ye get back tae work," she managed, stepping back.

"Aye." But he didn't move immediately. Just stood there, looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "I'll see ye at dinner?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps," he echoed, and there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.

He stepped back and closed the door gently. Alba stood in the corridor for a moment, staring at the solid wood, trying to calm her racing pulse.

From inside, she heard James's voice again, teasing: "Should I be worried about how long ye stood at that door?"

And Lachlann's response, too quiet for her to make out the words, but she could hear the warmth in his tone.

Alba turned and walked back down the corridor, her hand still tingling where his fingers had brushed hers.

Captain was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, tail wagging. She fell into step beside Alba as they made their way back outside.

"I'm in trouble, arenae I?" Alba murmured to the dog.

Captain just looked up at her with those bright, knowing eyes and kept walking.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Iwant tae come with ye."

Lachlann looked up from the saddle he was adjusting, surprised to find Alba standing in the stable doorway.

Early morning light streamed in behind her, making her dark hair gleam, and there was a determined set to her chin that he recognized all too well.

"Come with me where?" he asked, though he had a fair idea what she meant.

"Tae the village. Ye said yesterday ye had tae settle some dispute." Alba stepped further into the stable, her boots crunching on the straw-covered floor. "I want tae leave the castle. See more of yer land."

Lachlann straightened, considering. His first instinct was to say no—the roads might not be safe, Torquil could have scouts watching, there were a dozen reasons why keeping her within the castle walls was the wiser choice.

But the look in her sea-blue eyes stopped him.

She wasn't asking for permission so much as stating her intention. And after yesterday morning's disaster with the seating arrangements, after she'd spent the day hiding in the gardens, he understood the need to escape these stone walls.

"Aye," he said finally. "Ye can come."