Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Iwant tae come with ye."
Lachlann looked up from the saddle he was adjusting, surprised to find Alba standing in the stable doorway.
Early morning light streamed in behind her, making her dark hair gleam, and there was a determined set to her chin that he recognized all too well.
"Come with me where?" he asked, though he had a fair idea what she meant.
"Tae the village. Ye said yesterday ye had tae settle some dispute." Alba stepped further into the stable, her boots crunching on the straw-covered floor. "I want tae leave the castle. See more of yer land."
Lachlann straightened, considering. His first instinct was to say no—the roads might not be safe, Torquil could have scouts watching, there were a dozen reasons why keeping her within the castle walls was the wiser choice.
But the look in her sea-blue eyes stopped him.
She wasn't asking for permission so much as stating her intention. And after yesterday morning's disaster with the seating arrangements, after she'd spent the day hiding in the gardens, he understood the need to escape these stone walls.
"Aye," he said finally. "Ye can come."
Alba's shoulders relaxed slightly, like she'd been bracing for an argument. "Thank ye."
"But ye'll ride with the group. Nay wanderin' off, nay strayin' from the men." His voice was firm. "And if I say we need tae leave, we leave. Understood?"
"Understood." She paused, then added, "May I have a horse for the trip? I'd rather nae ride doubled with someone if I can help it."
Lachlann gestured toward the row of stalls deeper in the stable. "Choose whichever one ye like. Though I'd suggest one of the gentler mares if ye're nae used tae—"
"I can ride," Alba interrupted, a flash of irritation crossing her face.
"I wasnae questionin' yer skill," Lachlann said mildly, turning back to his tack. "Just offerin' advice."
He heard her huff slightly, then the sound of her footsteps moving deeper into the stable. Lachlann returned his attention to his saddle, checking the girth and making sure everything was secure.
Around him, his men were preparing their own mounts—James, Duncan, and three others he'd chosen for the day's ride.
They worked efficiently, the familiar routine of preparing for a journey requiring little discussion.
"The lady's comin' with us?" James asked quietly, appearing at Lachlann's elbow.
"Aye."
"Is that wise?"
"Probably nae. But she needs tae get out of the castle, and I'd rather have her where I can see her than have her sneakin' off on her own later." Lachlann kept his voice low. "Ye ken how stubborn she is."
"I'm beginnin’ tae," James said, amusement coloring his tone. "She reminds me of someone else I ken."
"Shut up, James."
His friend's quiet laughter followed him as Lachlann moved to check on the other horses. He was halfway down the row of stalls when he heard it—a startled whinny, followed by the sharp sound of hooves striking wood.
Lachlann spun around just in time to see Alba stumble backward as a large black mare reared in her stall, ears pinned flat against her skull.
He moved without thinking, crossing the distance in three long strides and grabbing the mare's halter. The horse fought him for a moment, tossing her head and trying to pull free, but Lachlann held firm, speaking in low, soothing tones until she settled.
"Are ye hurt?" he demanded, turning to Alba once the mare had calmed. "Did she strike ye?"
"I'm fine," Alba said sharply, her cheeks flushed. "And I had it under control."
"Ye were nearly knocked on yer arse," Lachlann shot back, his heart still racing from the burst of adrenaline. "Fergive me fer nae wantin' tae see ye trampled."
"I ken how to handle a spooked horse, Lachlann. I told ye I can ride."
"And I willnae apologize fer makin' sure ye're unharmed." He kept his grip on the halter, the mare's hot breath huffing against his arm. " Shadow is temperamental at the best of times, and she daesnae take kindly tae strangers."
"Then maybe ye shouldnae have told me tae choose whichever horse I liked," Alba retorted, her eyes flashing.
The tension between them was sharp enough to cut. Lachlann was very aware that his men had stopped working and were watching this exchange with poorly concealed interest.
"Fine," he said, stepping back and releasing the halter. "She's all yers. If ye think ye can handle her."
Alba's chin lifted. "I can handle her just fine."
She moved toward the stall again, more slowly this time. Lachlann stayed close enough to intervene if needed, but far enough back that he wouldn't interfere.
Shadow's ears were still pinned, her eyes showing white at the corners. But Alba didn't rush. She just stood at the edge of the stall, one hand extended, and began speaking in a low, steady voice.
Lachlann couldn't make out the words, but the tone was soothing. Patient. After a long moment, Shadow's ears began to swivel forward, her posture relaxing incrementally.
Alba took a single step closer. Then another. Shadow shifted but didn't shy away.
"That's it," Alba murmured, still in that same calm tone. "I'm nae goin' to hurt ye, sweet girl. Just want to say hello."
Slowly, carefully, she reached out and touched Shadow's nose. The mare snorted but held still, and Alba's hand moved up to stroke her neck.
Lachlann found himself holding his breath, impressed despite himself. Shadow was one of his favorite horses—fast, strong, with stamina that could outlast most other mounts. But she was also proud and he'd seen her refuse even his most experienced riders.
Yet there was Alba, speaking softly and moving with such confidence that Shadow was actually leaning into her touch.
"There now," Alba said, running her fingers through Shadow's mane. "Ye're nae so fearsome, are ye? Just needed someone tae take the time with ye."
"I'll be damned," James muttered from somewhere behind Lachlann.
Alba glanced over her shoulder, and there was unmistakable satisfaction in her expression when she met Lachlann's eyes. "Still think I cannae handle her?"
"I think," Lachlann said carefully, "that Shadow has made her choice. She rarely lets anyone but me near her, and even I have tae work fer her cooperation most days."
"Maybe she just needed a woman's touch," Alba said, but her voice had lost its sharp edge.
"Maybe." Lachlann moved closer, reaching out to stroke Shadow's other side. The mare allowed it, though her attention stayed fixed on Alba. "She's fast. Fastest horse I've got, actually. And she's got a stubborn streak that makes James here look downright accommodatin’."
"I heard that," James called.
"Ye were meant tae." Lachlann kept his eyes on Alba. "If ye're goin' tae ride her, ye need tae ken she'll test ye. She'll try tae take the bit and run if ye let her. And she's got opinions about which paths tae take."
"I think we'll get along just fine," Alba said, and there was a warmth in her voice now that made something in Lachlann's chest ease.
The tension from moments ago had dissolved, replaced by something else—mutual respect, perhaps. An understanding.
"Right then." Lachlann stepped back. "Let's get her tacked up. We're already behind schedule."
They worked together to saddle Shadow, Alba proving she did indeed know what she was doing. Her hands were steady and sure as she adjusted the girth, checked the stirrups, made sure everything was secure.
Shadow stood calmly through it all, occasionally turning her head to nose at Alba's shoulder.
"She's completely besotted," James observed, appearing with his own mount. "The lass has a way with animals, I'll give her that."
"Aye," Lachlann agreed quietly, watching Alba run a final check over the tack. "She daes."
Within minutes, they were mounted and ready. Alba swung into Shadow's saddle with easy grace, and the mare pranced slightly but responded immediately when Alba gathered the reins.
Lachlann led them out of the stable and into the courtyard, his men falling into formation around them. Two rode ahead as scouts while James and Duncan flanked him and Alba, with the remaining man bringing up the rear.
They set off at a steady pace, leaving the castle behind and heading down the winding path toward the village. The morning was clear and cool, the sky a brilliant blue overhead, and Lachlann found himself relaxing into the familiar rhythm of the ride.
Beside him, Alba sat her horse well, her posture confident and her hands light on the reins. Shadow seemed content to match pace with Lachlann's gelding, and he noticed Alba's gaze moving constantly—taking in the landscape, the paths, the distant glimmer of the sea.
"That's the north pasture," he said after a while, gesturing to a stretch of green fields where sheep dotted the hillside. "We graze the sheep there in summer, move them tae the southern fields come winter."
Alba nodded, her eyes tracking the flock. "How many dae ye keep?"
"About two hundred head. Enough fer wool and meat, with some tae trade." He pointed to a cluster of small stone buildings. "Those are the shepherd's crofts. Three families live there year-round, tendin' the flocks."
They rode on, and Lachlann found himself continuing the commentary almost without thinking.
He pointed out the boundaries of MacNeil land, the streams that ran down from the hills, the paths that led to hidden coves and sheltered beaches.
Alba listened carefully, asking occasional questions that showed she understood more about land management than he'd expected. She noticed things too, the way the fields were laid out, the condition of the stone walls, the placement of the crofts.
"Ye've got good land," she said after a while. "Better drainage than ours, I think. And closer tae the sea fer trade."
"Aye, the harbor's been good tae us. Though the weather can be rough in winter." Lachlann glanced at her. "Yer lands are more sheltered. Better fer growin' things."
"When it's nae rainin'." Alba's lips quirked. "Which is most of the time."
They fell into comfortable silence, the only sounds the steady thud of hooves, the jingle of tack, and the occasional call of seabirds overhead. The tension from the stable had faded completely, replaced by an ease that surprised Lachlann with how natural it felt.
This was... nice. Riding beside her, pointing out landmarks, sharing the land he'd grown up on. Like she was a part of it somehow. Like she belonged there.
The thought caught him off guard, and he pushed it away quickly. Alba was there temporarily, under his protection until it was safe for her to return home. That was all.
Even if his dog had chosen her. Even if his most temperamental horse was now following her lead like a devoted puppy. Even if watching her in the garden yesterday, laughing as Captain the dog rolled over for belly rubs, had made his chest ache with something he didn't want to name.
"There," James called from ahead, breaking through Lachlann's thoughts. "Village is just over the next rise."
Lachlann signaled for the group to slow.
As they crested the hill, the village spread out before them—a cluster of stone cottages, a larger building that served as both tavern and meeting hall, and the small kirk with its carefully tended graveyard.
People were already moving about despite the early hour.
A woman hanging washing paused to shade her eyes and look up at them. Children playing in the street stopped their game to stare. An old man sitting outside the tavern raised a hand in greeting.
And every single one of them noticed Alba.
Lachlann could see the curiosity on their faces, the whispers starting even before they'd fully entered the village proper. A stranger on MacNeil lands was unusual enough. A woman riding beside the laird was cause for immediate speculation.
"Easy," he murmured to Alba, though he wasn't sure if he was warning her or himself. "They're goin' tae stare. Let them. Just keep yer head up and ignore the gossip."
"I'm used tae bein' stared at," Alba said quietly, but there was tension in her shoulders again.
Lachlann slowed his horse to a walk, and the others matched his pace. He kept his expression neutral but welcoming as he rode into the village, nodding to familiar faces and keeping Alba close to his side.
Whatever happened next, whatever questions arose from her presence here, he'd deal with it. She'd asked to go and he'd agreed. He'd be damned if he let anyone make her feel unwelcome on his lands.
"Duncan," he said, not taking his eyes off the villagers ahead. "Find Angus and bring him tae the tavern. Tell him we need tae discuss the grazin’ rights before someone daes somethin' stupid."
"Aye, me laird."
"James, with me. And make sure someone keeps an eye on the horses."
"Already done."
"Stay close," he said quietly. "And if anyone gives ye trouble, ye tell me immediately."
"I can handle meself, Lachlann."
"I ken ye can." He held her gaze. "But let me handle them anyway. Please."
After a moment, Alba nodded.
And together, with his men around them and the entire village watching, they walked into the village proper ready to face whatever rumors would follow.