Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
"Ye're supposed tae sit when I tell ye tae sit, nae when ye feel like it."
Alba paused at the entrance to the garden, her hand still on the gate. She'd expected solitude, needed it after the morning's disaster and Orla's too-perceptive observations. But Lachlann's voice carried across the garden, exasperated but fond, and curiosity made her stop.
She stepped through the gate quietly, keeping to the shadows of the wall.
There, in the center of the garden near the herb beds, Lachlann stood with three large hunting dogs circling him.
A falcon perched on a wooden stand nearby, its golden eyes watching the proceedings with what looked like amusement.
"Storm, sit." Lachlann's voice was firm but patient.
The largest dog—the shaggy grey beast—immediately dropped to his haunches, tail wagging.
"Good lad. Now, Bracken, yer turn."
A second dog, lean and rust-colored, took longer to obey, circling once more before finally sitting.
Lachlann waited him out, not moving, not repeating the command. Just standing there with infinite patience until the dog decided to comply.
"Better. Captain, sit."
The third dog, sleek and black as her namesake, sat immediately, her intelligent eyes fixed on Lachlann's face.
Alba found herself smiling despite the turmoil of the morning.
There was something so... peaceful about watching him like that. The fierce warrior who'd cut through Torquil's men was nowhere to be seen. That was just a man working with his animals, gentle and patient and completely at ease.
"Down," Lachlann said, and all three dogs dropped to their bellies.
He crouched down, running his hands over each of them in turn, checking paws and coats, murmuring praise. The dogs leaned into his touch, tails thumping against the ground.
Alba shifted slightly, and a twig snapped under her foot.
Lachlann's head came up immediately, his grey eyes finding hers across the garden. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and Alba felt her cheeks warm at being caught watching him.
"I didnae mean tae disturb ye," she said, stepping forward. "I came fer some air and didnae realize anyone was here."
"Ye're nae disturbin' anything." Lachlann stood, and the dogs immediately surged to their feet, alert and curious. "I was just workin' through their commands. They get restless if I neglect their trainin' too long."
Alba moved closer, eyeing the dogs cautiously. They were large, much larger up close, and she wasn't entirely certain of their temperament.
"They willnae hurt ye," Lachlann said, reading her hesitation. "They're well-trained. Here, let me introduce ye properly."
He gestured to the grey dog. "This is Storm. He's the oldest and the steadiest of the lot." Storm's tail wagged at the sound of his name. "That's Bracken"—the rust-colored dog perked up—"and Captain."
The black dog moved forward before Lachlann could say more, nosing at Alba's hand with surprising gentleness. Alba held still, letting the dog sniff her fingers, her palm.
"Captain, back," Lachlann said, but the dog ignored him, instead sitting directly at Alba's feet and looking up at her with bright, hopeful eyes.
"Well," Lachlann said, sounding amused. "That's unexpected."
"What is?" Alba tentatively reached down to touch Captain's head. The dog's tail began wagging so hard his whole body wiggled.
"Captain daesnae take tae strangers. Ever." Lachlann crossed his arms, watching with undisguised surprise. "He barely tolerates most of me own men. But he's actin' like ye're his long-lost favorite person."
As if to prove his point, Captain leaned heavily against Alba's legs, then suddenly dropped to the ground and rolled onto her back, exposing his belly in complete trust.
Alba laughed––she couldn't help it––and knelt down to scratch the dog's stomach. Captain's back leg kicked in pure bliss.
"I've never seen him dae that with anyone but me," Lachlann said, and there was something warm in his voice that made Alba's chest tight. "He's chosen ye, it seems."
The other two dogs, not wanting to be left out, crowded closer. Storm nudged Alba's shoulder with his massive head, while Bracken circled around to sniff her hair.
"Hello," Alba murmured, giving Storm attention while still rubbing Captain's belly. "Ye're all very sweet, arenae ye?"
"They're workin' dogs," Lachlann said, but he was smiling. "They're nae supposed tae be sweet."
"Too late. They're sweet." Alba looked up at him, still kneeling among the dogs. "Ye must’ve taught them tae be sweet."
The words came out before she could stop them, and she felt her face flame. But Lachlann's expression softened, and for a moment, the morning's awkwardness seemed very far away.
"I can show ye the falcon," he said quietly. "Since ye're here."
He moved to the wooden stand where the bird perched. "This is Morrigan. She's a peregrine, and she's faster than anythin' ye've ever seen."
Alba stood, the dogs trailing after her as she approached. The falcon watched her with those sharp golden eyes, head tilting slightly.
"Can I touch her?" Alba asked.
"Nae directly. She daesnae ken ye yet, and peregrines can be... temperamental." Lachlann ran a finger gently down the bird's chest feathers. "But ye can stand close. Let her get used tae ye."
Alba moved to his side, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The falcon studied her intently, then made a soft clicking sound.
"She likes ye," Lachlann said. "That's her curious noise. If she didnae like ye, ye'd ken it."
"How?"
"She'd scream. Loud enough tae wake the dead."
Alba laughed again, and Lachlann's smile widened. It was... nice. Easy. Like the awkwardness of the morning had been washed away by dog slobber and falcon approval.
"I'm sorry," Alba said suddenly. "About breakfast. About how I reacted. I shouldnae have been so—"
"Ye had every right tae be upset," Lachlann interrupted gently. "The situation was uncomfortable, and I should have been more careful about appearances. Ye were right tae speak up."
"But I was harsh about it."
"Ye were honest about it." He looked down at her, and the understanding in his grey eyes made her throat tight. "And I'd rather have yer honesty than yer polite silence. Always."
Captain chose that moment to push between them, demanding more attention. Lachlann laughed and bent to scratch behind his ears.
"Jealous beast," he said fondly. "Ye've already claimed her. Let me at least speak tae her."
But Captain had other ideas. He sat at Alba's feet and stared up at Lachlann, then deliberately offered his paw to Alba.
"He's showin' off fer ye," Lachlann said, shaking his head. "Look at him. He kens every trick I've taught him, and now he's performin' like a trained mummer."
Alba took the offered paw, charmed despite herself. "Good boy, Captain."
The dog's tail wagged harder, and he immediately offered the other paw.
"Both paws?" Lachlann's eyebrows rose. "I've been workin' on that fer weeks, and he acts like she daesnae ken how. But one smile from ye and suddenly he's a perfect gentleman."
"Maybe he just needed the right motivation." Alba scratched behind Captain's ears, earning a contented groan from the dog.
"Apparently." Lachlann glanced toward the sun, measuring the time. "I need tae prepare fer me rounds in the village tomorrow. There's a dispute over some grazing rights that needs settling before it turns intae a feud."
"Oh." Alba tried to hide her disappointment. "Of course. Ye have duties."
"Will ye be all right here? The dogs can stay with ye if ye like. Captain clearly has nay intention of leavin' yer side anyway."
"I'll be fine. I just needed some air."
Lachlann hesitated, like he wanted to say something more. But then he just nodded. "I'll see ye at dinner, then. Though perhaps nae at the high table."
"Perhaps nae," Alba agreed, managing a small smile.
He called the other two dogs and left, Storm and Bracken trotting at his heels. But Captain remained firmly planted at Alba's feet, looking up at her with adoration.
"Looks like I've made a friend," Alba murmured, stroking the dog's silky head.
She wandered through the garden for a while, Captain following faithfully, until she found herself back near the herb beds where Lachlann had been training.
The morning sun was warm on her face, and the scent of lavender and rosemary hung heavy in the air.
It was only when she bent to examine a particularly fragrant patch of thyme that she saw it.
A ring. Silver, heavy, with intricate carvings visible even from where she stood.
Alba picked it up carefully. It was clearly expensive, the kind of thing a man didn't just leave lying about. The kind of thing that meant something.
She turned it in her fingers, examining the markings. A ship on one side, waves beneath it. Mountains on the other. And around the band, words in Gaelic that she couldn't quite make out in the sunlight.
Lachlann's signet ring. It had to be.
Alba's first instinct was to call after him, but he'd already been gone several minutes. He'd be halfway to the stables by now, preparing his horse for the ride to the village.
She looked down at Captain, who was watching her with interest.
"I suppose I should return this, shouldnae I?"
Captain's tail wagged, which Alba took as agreement.
The walk back to the castle felt longer than it should have.
Alba clutched the ring tightly, very aware of its weight in her palm.
This wasn't just any piece of jewelry—it was a symbol of authority, of inheritance.
The kind of thing a laird wore every day and noticed immediately when it was missing.
She found herself outside Lachlann's office sooner than she'd expected. The door was closed, and she could hear voices inside—Lachlann's deep tones and James's lighter ones.
Alba hesitated, her hand raised to knock. What if she was interrupting something important? What if walking in there, alone, with his ring, looked... inappropriate?
But it was his signet ring. He'd need it. And leaving it in the garden overnight would be irresponsible.
She knocked before she could talk herself out of it.
The voices inside stopped. Footsteps approached, and then the door opened.
Lachlann stood there, still in the same clothes from the garden, though he'd added his sword belt. His eyebrows rose slightly when he saw her.
"Alba? Is something wrong?"
"Nay, I just—" She held out her hand, the ring resting in her palm. "Ye left this in the garden."
Lachlann's eyes widened, and his hand immediately went to his left ring finger, finding it bare.
"Christ. I didnae even notice." He took the ring from her, his fingers brushing hers briefly. "Thank ye. I would have torn apart half the castle lookin’ fer this later."
"It seemed important."
"It is." He turned the ring in his hand, and something in his expression shifted—became more serious, more vulnerable. "Me faither gave this tae me when I was named heir. I was nineteen, barely old enough tae understand what it meant."
Alba found herself leaning slightly forward, drawn in by the quiet intimacy of his tone.
"See here?" Lachlann tilted the ring so she could see the carvings.
"The ship represents the MacNeils' connection tae the sea.
We've been sailors and traders fer generations.
And the mountains, those are fer the Highlands themselves.
A reminder that we're tied tae this land as much as tae the water. "
"And the words?" Alba could see them better now in the dimmer light of the corridor. Gaelic, elegantly carved around the band.
"'Buaidh no Bàs,'" Lachlann said softly.
"Victory or Death. Our clan motto." He looked up from the ring, his grey eyes meeting hers.
"Me faither told me that wearin’ this meant I was responsible fer every soul in our clan.
That their safety, their prosperity, their future—all of it rested on me shoulders. "
"That's a heavy burden," Alba said quietly.
"Aye. It is." He slid the ring back onto his finger, and she saw the way his hand seemed to relax once it was in place. Like he wasn't quite whole without it. "But it also means somethin’. It means I'm part of somethin’ bigger than meself. That me life has purpose beyond just... existin’."
There was something raw in his voice, something that made Alba want to reach out and touch his hand. To offer comfort for a weight she was only beginning to understand.
"Yer faither chose well," she said instead. "Givin' it tae ye."
Lachlann's expression softened. "Thank ye fer bringing it back. I'd have been lost without it."
A voice from inside the office called out—James, asking something about the village route. Lachlann glanced back, then returned his attention to Alba.
"I should go. But thank ye. Truly."
"It was naethin’."
"It wasnae naethin’ Alba." His voice was firm, but gentle.
Her name on his lips, said like that—warm and sincere and something close to tender—made her heart stutter.
"I should let ye get back tae work," she managed, stepping back.
"Aye." But he didn't move immediately. Just stood there, looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "I'll see ye at dinner?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps," he echoed, and there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.
He stepped back and closed the door gently. Alba stood in the corridor for a moment, staring at the solid wood, trying to calm her racing pulse.
From inside, she heard James's voice again, teasing: "Should I be worried about how long ye stood at that door?"
And Lachlann's response, too quiet for her to make out the words, but she could hear the warmth in his tone.
Alba turned and walked back down the corridor, her hand still tingling where his fingers had brushed hers.
Captain was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, tail wagging. She fell into step beside Alba as they made their way back outside.
"I'm in trouble, arenae I?" Alba murmured to the dog.
Captain just looked up at her with those bright, knowing eyes and kept walking.