Page 77 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

Gone. She was gone.

The window stood open, the curtains moving gently in the morning breeze. Her brush lay on the floor beside the bed, strands of dark hair still caught in its bristles.

And on the windowsill, barely visible unless you knew to look—was a single drop of blood.

"They took her through the window," James said from behind him, his voice carefully controlled. "Lowered her down on a rope, most likely. Malcolm and Finn wouldnae have heard anythin' from the corridor. And that is how they entered."

Lachlann couldn't speak. Could barely breathe past the rage and terror warring in his chest.

I promised to keep her safe. Promised Calum. Promised her.

"We'll find her," James continued. "We'll⁠—"

"They have a head start." Lachlann's voice came out rough, broken. "They could be anywhere on the island by now. Or worse."

"They'll take her tae Torquil. Which means they need a boat." James moved to the window, studying the rope marks on the sill. "The eastern coves. That's where they'd go. Hidden from the castle, easy access to the mainland."

Hope, desperate and fierce, flared in Lachlann's chest.

"Gather every able man. We ride fer the eastern coast. Now."

He turned toward the door, but James caught his arm.

"Lachlann. Ye shouldnae be ridin’. And if we ride in blind, if this is a trap⁠—"

"I dinnae care if it's a trap." Lachlann met his friend's eyes. "They have Alba. That's all that matters."

"And when Calum finds out ye risked everythin' fer his sister? When he learns ye've been⁠—"

"Then I'll deal with that when it comes." Lachlann pulled free. "But right now, I'm gettin' her back. Even if it costs me the Covenant. Even if it costs me his friendship."

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Fifteen men. Armed and ready tae ride."

James's voice cut through the chaos in the courtyard. Lachlann was already mounted, his hands white-knuckled on the reins as soldiers assembled around him.

"The eastern coves," Lachlann said, his voice hard. "They'll take her there. It's the only route that makes sense."

"That's a lot of ground tae cover." James swung into his own saddle. "They could be at any of half a dozen landin’ points."

"Then we split up." Lachlann wheeled his horse toward the gate. "Three groups. James, take five men to the northern cove. Malcolm, ye take the southern route. I'll go straight through the center path."

He kicked his horse forward. "Move out!"

They thundered through the castle gates, hooves striking sparks off stone. The morning sun hung low and bright, painting everything in sharp relief—the trees, the path ahead, the rocky coastline visible in the distance.

Lachlann leaned low over his horse's neck, urging more speed. Every second that passed was another second Alba was in their hands. Another second of terror for her. Another second he was failing the promise he'd made.

I swore tae protect her. Swore it tae Calum. And I've let her be taken from right under me nose.

The guilt was a living thing, clawing at his chest. Not just because he'd failed in his duty to his Covenant brother. But because the thought of losing Alba—of never seeing her smile again, never hearing her laugh, never feeling her hand in his—was unbearable.

He pushed the horse harder.

The path narrowed as they entered the forest, forcing them to slow slightly to navigate between trees. Lachlann's eyes scanned constantly, searching for signs—broken branches, disturbed earth, anything to indicate someone had passed that way recently.

"There!" One of his men pointed to fresh hoof prints in the soft ground. "Two horses. Movin’ fast."