Page 95 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"We should go," Lachlann said eventually, though he made no move to step away. "Before someone comes lookin' and finds us like this."

"Probably wise."

"But I dinnae want tae."

"Neither dae I."

He smiled against her forehead. "Yer hand is still on me chest, lass."

"Is it?" Alba feigned surprise. "How improper of me."

"Scandalous, even."

"Should I move it?"

"Absolutely." He paused. "In a minute."

Alba laughed, the sound bright and free in the warm afternoon air.

And Lachlann held her close, breathing her in, memorizing the moment before they had to return to the castle and all its watching eyes and complicated loyalties.

Just one more perfect moment before reality intruded again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"Gone? What dae ye mean, gone?"

Torquil's voice cut through the hall like a blade, making the messenger flinch. The man stood near the doorway, muddy from hard riding, his face pale with the knowledge that he bore bad news.

"The men we sent to retrieve Lady Alba, me lord," the messenger said carefully. "They were intercepted before they could reach the boat. MacNeil's forces caught them on the eastern road."

"Intercepted." Torquil set down his wine cup with deliberate precision. "Ye mean captured."

"Aye, me laird."

"And the woman?"

"Returned tae MacNeil's castle. Unharmed, from what our scouts report."

Torquil's hands flattened on the polished wood of his desk. "So let me understand this correctly. I paid those fools a small fortune. I arranged fer a traitor inside MacNeil's own walls. I gave them exact instructions on how tae extract the girl without raising alarm." His voice remained calm, almost conversational. "And despite all that, they managed tae fail."

"MacNeil tracked them, me laird. Faster than we anticipated. He⁠—"

"I dinnae care how fast he was." Torquil stood abruptly, his chair scraping against stone. "They had the girl. In their hands. On a horse. All they had tae dae was reach the damned boat."

The messenger wisely said nothing.

Torquil moved to the window, staring out at his lands—good lands, profitable lands, lands that should have been enough but somehow never were. Not when compared to what others had. Not when measured against what he deserved.

"What of the men themselves?" he asked, his back still to the messenger.

"Captured, me laird. Along with the guard who helped them—Thomas, he was called. All three are in MacNeil's dungeon."

"Will they talk?"

A pause. "I... cannae say fer certain, me laird."

"That means yes." Torquil's jaw clenched. "Of course they'll talk. Everyone talks eventually. Which means MacNeil will ken I'm behind this. Will have proof beyond mere suspicion."