Page 39 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

Alba took a single step closer. Then another. Shadow shifted but didn't shy away.

"That's it," Alba murmured, still in that same calm tone. "I'm nae goin' to hurt ye, sweet girl. Just want to say hello."

Slowly, carefully, she reached out and touched Shadow's nose. The mare snorted but held still, and Alba's hand moved up to stroke her neck.

Lachlann found himself holding his breath, impressed despite himself. Shadow was one of his favorite horses—fast, strong, with stamina that could outlast most other mounts. But she was also proud and he'd seen her refuse even his most experienced riders.

Yet there was Alba, speaking softly and moving with such confidence that Shadow was actually leaning into her touch.

"There now," Alba said, running her fingers through Shadow's mane. "Ye're nae so fearsome, are ye? Just needed someone tae take the time with ye."

"I'll be damned," James muttered from somewhere behind Lachlann.

Alba glanced over her shoulder, and there was unmistakable satisfaction in her expression when she met Lachlann's eyes. "Still think I cannae handle her?"

"I think," Lachlann said carefully, "that Shadow has made her choice. She rarely lets anyone but me near her, and even I have tae work fer her cooperation most days."

"Maybe she just needed a woman's touch," Alba said, but her voice had lost its sharp edge.

"Maybe." Lachlann moved closer, reaching out to stroke Shadow's other side. The mare allowed it, though her attention stayed fixed on Alba. "She's fast. Fastest horse I've got, actually. And she's got a stubborn streak that makes James here look downright accommodatin’."

"I heard that," James called.

"Ye were meant tae." Lachlann kept his eyes on Alba. "If ye're goin' tae ride her, ye need tae ken she'll test ye. She'll try tae take the bit and run if ye let her. And she's got opinions about which paths tae take."

"I think we'll get along just fine," Alba said, and there was a warmth in her voice now that made something in Lachlann's chest ease.

The tension from moments ago had dissolved, replaced by something else—mutual respect, perhaps. An understanding.

"Right then." Lachlann stepped back. "Let's get her tacked up. We're already behind schedule."

They worked together to saddle Shadow, Alba proving she did indeed know what she was doing. Her hands were steady and sure as she adjusted the girth, checked the stirrups, made sure everything was secure.

Shadow stood calmly through it all, occasionally turning her head to nose at Alba's shoulder.

"She's completely besotted," James observed, appearing with his own mount. "The lass has a way with animals, I'll give her that."

"Aye," Lachlann agreed quietly, watching Alba run a final check over the tack. "She daes."

Within minutes, they were mounted and ready. Alba swung into Shadow's saddle with easy grace, and the mare pranced slightly but responded immediately when Alba gathered the reins.

Lachlann led them out of the stable and into the courtyard, his men falling into formation around them. Two rode ahead as scouts while James and Duncan flanked him and Alba, with the remaining man bringing up the rear.

They set off at a steady pace, leaving the castle behind and heading down the winding path toward the village. The morning was clear and cool, the sky a brilliant blue overhead, and Lachlann found himself relaxing into the familiar rhythm of the ride.

Beside him, Alba sat her horse well, her posture confident and her hands light on the reins. Shadow seemed content to match pace with Lachlann's gelding, and he noticed Alba's gaze moving constantly—taking in the landscape, the paths, the distant glimmer of the sea.

"That's the north pasture," he said after a while, gesturing to a stretch of green fields where sheep dotted the hillside. "We graze the sheep there in summer, move them tae the southern fields come winter."

Alba nodded, her eyes tracking the flock. "How many dae ye keep?"

"About two hundred head. Enough fer wool and meat, with some tae trade." He pointed to a cluster of small stone buildings. "Those are the shepherd's crofts. Three families live there year-round, tendin' the flocks."

They rode on, and Lachlann found himself continuing the commentary almost without thinking.

He pointed out the boundaries of MacNeil land, the streams that ran down from the hills, the paths that led to hidden coves and sheltered beaches.

Alba listened carefully, asking occasional questions that showed she understood more about land management than he'd expected. She noticed things too, the way the fields were laid out, the condition of the stone walls, the placement of the crofts.