Page 49 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"I need tae think," she said quietly. "About Calum's letter. About everything. I need... I need time."

"Take all the time ye need."

She nodded and closed the door gently.

Lachlann stood in the corridor, staring at the solid wood, his heart pounding.

As he walked back to his office, Calum's letter heavy in his pocket, Lachlann knew he wouldn't have taken the words back even if he could. have

Because they were true.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Leave me, Orla. Please."

Alba's voice was steadier than she felt, her hands already working at the laces of her dress. The maid hesitated, fingers pausing over the stack of fresh linens she'd been arranging.

"Are ye certain, me lady? I can help ye with⁠—"

"I need tae be alone." Alba softened the words with a small smile. "Just fer a while. I'll manage the bath meself."

Orla studied her for a moment, those perceptive brown eyes seeing far too much. But she dipped a curtsy and moved toward the door. "I'll return in an hour tae help ye dress fer dinner."

"Thank ye."

The door clicked shut, and Alba released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her fingers trembled as she finished unlacing her bodice, the green fabric pooling around her feet as she stepped free of it.

I dinnae want tae be far from ye, Alba.

Lachlann's words echoed through her mind, low and fierce and completely impossible to ignore. She'd told him to be careful what he said. That he needed to mean it.

And he'd looked at her like she'd wounded him by even suggesting he might speak without meaning every word.

Alba moved to the tub Orla had prepared, testing the water with her fingertips. Still hot enough to sting pleasantly. Steam curled upward in lazy spirals, smelling faintly of lavender and something else—rosemary, perhaps.

She shed her shift and stepped into the bath, sinking beneath the surface with a sigh that came from somewhere deep in her chest. The heat wrapped around her like an embrace, easing muscles she hadn't realized were tense.

Her eyes drifted closed.

I dinnae want tae be far from ye.

What was she supposed to do with that? What did he expect her to say?

The truth was that she didn't want to be far from him either.

The truth was that every moment in his presence made her heart race and her thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

The truth was that she'd spent years burying those feelings, convincing herself they were impossible, forbidden, a childish crush that would fade with time.

But they hadn't faded.

If anything, they'd grown stronger. Deeper. More terrifying.

Alba slid lower in the tub until the water lapped at her chin, letting the heat seep into her bones. She needed to think. Had to decide what she was going to do about Lachlann MacNeil and the way he looked at her like she was something precious. Something worth protecting. Something worth⁠—

"If ye think I ever speak without meanin', then ye dinnae ken me at all."

Alba's eyes flew open.