Page 91 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

Alba followed him through the gate, her eyes immediately finding the falcon perched on a wooden stand near the far wall. The bird was magnificent, all sleek power and sharp focus, with feathers that gleamed copper and gold in the afternoon sun.

"She's beautiful," Alba breathed.

"She's called Branwen. Means 'blessed raven' in the old tongue." Lachlann moved to the stand, his movements slow and careful. "Though she's a peregrine, nae a raven. But the name suits her anyway."

The falcon's keen eyes tracked his approach but she didn't startle, clearly accustomed to his presence.

"Now," Lachlann said, pulling on a thick leather glove, "the first thing ye need tae ken about handlin' a bird of prey is patience. They're nae like dogs or horses. Ye cannae force them tae trust ye. Ye have tae earn it."

Alba nodded, watching as he carefully transferred Branwen from her perch to his gloved hand. The bird's talons gripped the leather with casual strength that looked like it could easily tear through flesh.

"The glove is essential," Lachlann continued, holding up his arm so Alba could see. "Her talons are sharp enough tae pierce skin tae the bone. Even when she daesnae mean harm, her natural grip is strong enough tae cause damage."

"How long did it take ye tae train her?"

"She was already partially trained when I got her. A gift from one of the northern lairds quite a few years back." Lachlann stroked the falcon's chest feathers with one finger. "But earnin' her full trust? That took months. Birds like this remember everythin'—every kindness, every betrayal."

Something in his voice made Alba think he wasn't just talking about the falcon anymore.

"Here." Lachlann pulled a second glove from his belt and held it out. "Put this on. Carefully now, it needs tae fit snug or she might slip."

Alba took the glove, working her fingers into the thick leather. It was too large, meant for Lachlann's hands, but she managed to secure it well enough.

"Good. Now come stand beside me." He waited until she was positioned at his shoulder before continuing. "Watch how I launch her. The movement needs to be smooth and controlled, nae jerky or hesitant."

Lachlann raised his arm in one fluid motion, and Branwen spread her wings, launching herself into the air with a powerful downstroke. Alba watched in awe as the falcon soared upward, circling the enclosure with effortless grace.

"She's magnificent," Alba murmured.

"Aye. Now watch, I'm goin' tae call her back." Lachlann raised his gloved hand again and made a sharp whistling sound.

Branwen tucked her wings and dove, streaking downward like a copper arrow before spreading her wings at the last moment to slow her descent. She landed on Lachlann's glove with barely a sound, her talons gripping the leather as though she'd never left.

"See?" Lachlann grinned. "Smooth. Controlled. And she kens exactly what I expect from her."

"Because ye've trained together fer years."

"Aye. Trust goes both ways, I trust her nae tae hurt me, and she trusts me tae keep her safe." He stroked her chest again. "Now, ye want tae try?"

Alba's eyes widened. "Me? But I've never⁠—"

"Which is why I'm teachin' ye." Lachlann's expression softened. "I'll be right here. And Branwen's used tae new handlers, she willnae hurt ye unless ye dae somethin' tae frighten her."

"What would frighten her?"

"Sudden movements. Loud noises. Grabbin' at her." He carefully transferred the falcon to Alba's gloved hand, supporting her wrist to take some of the bird's weight. "Just stay calm and move slowly. She can sense fear."

Alba's heart hammered as she felt the falcon's weight settle onto her arm. Branwen was heavier than she'd expected, solid muscle beneath soft feathers.

The bird's eyes fixed on her with unsettling intelligence, as though measuring her worth.

"Good," Lachlann murmured, his hand still supporting Alba's wrist. "Now, when ye're ready, raise yer arm like I did. Smooth motion. She'll launch on her own."

Alba took a breath and lifted her arm.

Branwen spread her wings and pushed off, the force of her launch making Alba's arm dip slightly before she caught herself. The falcon soared upward, disappearing into the bright sky above the enclosure walls.

"She's gone!" Alba said, panic flaring.