Chapter 23 #2
Lachlann's expression softened. "There's an old Welsh tale about a woman named Branwen.
She was given as a bride tae an Irish king tae secure peace between their lands, but he mistreated her.
So she trained a starling to carry messages back tae Wales, and eventually her braithers came tae rescue her. "
"That's sad," Alba said quietly.
"Aye. But also hopeful. Because even when she was trapped and alone, she found a way tae call fer help.
Tae bring her family tae her." His eyes held hers.
"When I got this falcon, I was still a new laird.
Me faither had died, Eòin was gone, and I felt.
.. alone. Trapped by duty and grief. So, I named her Branwen as a reminder. "
"Of what?"
"That even in our darkest moments, we can find ways to reach out. Tae connect. Tae bring the people we care about close again." His hand tightened on hers. "And that sometimes the ones who rescue us are the ones we least expect."
Alba's breath caught. "Lachlann."
"Ye asked," he said with a small smile. "I'm just answerin'."
"That's... more profound than I expected from a bird's name."
"I contain depths, lass." His tone turned teasing. "Ye'll find I'm full of surprises."
"I'm learnin' that." Alba glanced at Branwen, who had settled into a restful posture, eyes half-closed in contentment. "She's beautiful when she's like this. All that power just... at peace."
"Like ye were this mornin'. When I left ye sleepin'."
Heat flooded Alba's face. "Ye were watchin' me sleep?"
"Only fer a moment." Lachlann's smile turned soft. "Ye looked peaceful. Happy, even. I didnae want tae disturb ye."
"Hence the letter."
"Aye."
Alba looked down at their still-clasped hands. "I liked the letter. The idea that ye'd think of me even when ye couldnae be there."
"I'm always thinkin' of ye, Alba." The words came out quiet but certain. "More than I probably should."
Her pulse jumped. "What daes that mean?"
"It means—" Lachlann paused, seeming to weigh his words carefully. "It means with ye, I want tae share everythin'."
"Everythin'?"
"Aye." His free hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "The good parts and the hard parts. The things I'm proud of and the things I regret. All of it."
Alba's heart felt too large for her chest. "I want that too. Tae ken all of ye."
"Even the parts that might frighten ye?"
"What could possibly frighten me about ye?"
Lachlann's expression turned serious. "The depth of what I feel. How much I want things I have nay right tae want." His thumb traced her cheekbone. "How badly I want to keep ye here, safe with me, even kennin’ what that might cost."
"Cost?" Alba's voice wavered. "Ye mean Calum."
"Aye." The single word carried weight. "Me best friend. Me Covenant braither. The man who would be furious if he kent I was touchin' his sister like this. Lookin' at her like this."
"And are ye? Touchin' me? Lookin' at me?" Alba's breath had gone shallow. "In ways ye shouldnae?"
"Every chance I get," Lachlann admitted roughly.
"And I keep tellin' meself tae stop. Tae step back.
Tae remember me duty and his trust. But then ye smile at me, or ye spy on me council meetin's, or ye learn tae fly me falcon—" His hand slid into her hair.
"And I ferget every reason why I should stay away. "
Alba leaned into his touch despite knowing she shouldn't. "I'm nae askin' ye tae stay away."
"Ye should be. Fer both our sakes."
"Maybe I'm tired of daein' what I should."
Lachlann's eyes darkened. "Alba—"
"I'm nae afraid of what ye feel, Lachlann. Or what I feel." She lifted her free hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath her palm. "The only thing that frightens me is the thought of ye pullin' away."
"Ye dinnae ken what ye're askin'."
"Then tell me. Explain it. Help me understand." Her fingers curled into his shirt. "But dinnae pull away. Please."
For a long moment, Lachlann just looked at her—conflict and desire warring in his expression. Then his forehead dropped to rest against hers.
"Ye're goin' tae be the death of me, lass," he whispered.
"Or maybe yer salvation."
His laugh was rough and breathless. "Maybe both."
They stood like that as the sun continued its descent, wrapped in each other's space, breathing the same air. Branwen dozed peacefully on her perch, unbothered by the humans and their complicated feelings.
And Alba felt something shift and settle in her chest, a certainty that whatever happened next, whatever complications arose with Calum or the Covenant or anything else—that was where she wanted to be.
Right there, with Lachlann's hand in her hair and his heart beating against her palm and the future stretching before them uncertain but undeniably theirs to shape.
"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.