Page 50 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

Lachlann stood just inside the doorway, his grey eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that made the air between them crackle. He'd come in so quietly she hadn't heard the door, hadn't heard his footsteps, hadn't had any warning at all.

And now he was here. In her room. While she was⁠—

Alba gasped and immediately sank lower in the tub, her arms crossing over her chest even though the water and soap provided some measure of coverage. Heat flooded her face that had nothing to do with the bath.

"Lachlann! What are ye—ye cannae just come in here without knockin’."

He froze mid-step, his entire body going rigid as realization crashed over his features. His gaze dropped—just for a second, just long enough for Alba to see his eyes widen—before he jerked his head away, turning his back to her so abruptly he nearly stumbled.

"Christ. Alba, I didnae—I wasnae thinkin', I’m sorry."

"Turn around!" Her voice came out higher than intended, somewhere between mortified and furious. "I mean—dinnae move!"

"I'm nae movin'." His voice was strained, rougher than usual. "I swear I'm nae movin'."

Alba stared at his back, at the rigid set of his shoulders beneath his shirt, at the way his hands had clenched into fists at his sides. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears, feel it in her throat.

"Why are ye here?" she managed, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why did ye come in without knockin'?"

He stopped, took a breath. "Ye told me tae be careful what I say. That I had tae mean it. And I needed ye tae understand that I always mean what I say. Especially tae ye."

Despite everything—despite her mortification, despite the absurdity of having this conversation while she was naked in a bathtub—something warm unfurled in Alba's chest.

"I appreciate that," she said quietly, her eyes still fixed on his back. On the way his hair curled slightly at his collar. On the breadth of his shoulders that blocked most of the doorway. "I appreciate the honesty. And I... I believe ye now. I'll ken from now on that ye mean everythin' ye say."

Lachlann's shoulders moved with his breathing. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, so quietly she almost didn't hear it: "Good."

He started toward the door, his movements careful and controlled, like he was afraid any sudden motion would shatter something fragile between them.

"Lachlann?"

He paused but didn't turn around. "Aye?"

Alba swallowed hard, wrapping her arms tighter around herself even though he wasn't looking. Even though he couldn't see her. "Thank ye. Fer... fer meanin' it."

His hand found the door frame, gripping it like he needed something to hold onto. "Always, lass. With ye, it'll always be the truth."

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that left Alba staring at the space where he'd been.

She sat there for a long moment, the bath water cooling around her, her heart still racing and her skin still flushed. Her hands were shaking as she pressed them to her face, trying to process what had just happened.

He'd walked in on her. Seen her. And then he'd turned away without hesitation, without taking advantage, without⁠—

I needed ye tae understand that I always mean what I say. Especially tae ye.

Alba's hands dropped to grip the edge of the tub, her knuckles turning white. The porcelain was cool and solid beneath her fingers, anchoring her when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

This was dangerous. All of it. The way he looked at her. The way her body responded to his nearness. The way he kept saying things that made her want to believe in impossible futures.

But maybe—just maybe—it wasn't impossible.

Maybe it was just terrifying.

Time stretched and bent around her as she sat in the cooling water, her mind racing through a thousand different thoughts and fears and hopes. By the time she finally forced herself to finish washing and step out of the tub, the water had gone cold and her skin had covered in goosebumps.

She dried herself mechanically, her movements automatic as she pulled on a clean shift and wrapped herself in her robe. Her fingers were still trembling slightly as she tied the sash.

With ye, it'll always be the truth.