Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Lachlann. A word?"
James's voice caught him just as Lachlann was about to enter his chambers.
"What is it?" Lachlann turned back, noting the serious set to James's expression.
"It's about Alba."
Every muscle in Lachlann's body went tense. "What about her? Has somethin' happened?"
"Nay, naethin' like that." James moved closer, lowering his voice even though they were alone. "But we need tae talk about yer intentions."
"Me intentions?"
"Aye." James crossed his arms. "I've kenned ye since we were lads, Lachlann. I've seen ye with women before—flirtations, passing interests, even a few serious courtships. But the way ye look at Alba MacKinnon?" He shook his head. "That's different. That's—"
"More," Lachlann finished quietly. "Aye. It is."
"So, what are yer intentions?"
"I want her." The words came out rougher than intended. "Fer meself. Properly. Nae just as someone under me protection or me best friend's sister or any other excuse I've been tellin' meself. I want Alba MacKinnon as me wife."
Silence fell between them.
James studied him for a long moment. "Ye're certain? Because once ye say that out loud, once ye act on it, there's no goin' back."
"I'm certain." Lachlann had never been more certain of anything in his life. "I ken it's complicated. I ken Calum might refuse. But I cannae keep pretendin' this is just duty or honor or protectiveness. It's more than that."
"Then ye need to ask him." James's voice was firm. "Properly. Before this goes any further. Because if Calum finds out ye've been courtin' his sister without his knowledge or permission—"
"He'll have me head. Aye, I ken." Lachlann rubbed his face tiredly. "But he's in England. It could be weeks before we hear back."
"Then ye write the letter taenight. Send it with riders tomorrow." James's expression softened slightly. "And Lachlann? Make it good. Make it clear this isnae just about protectin' her from Torquil or fulfillin' some obligation. Make him understand what she means tae ye."
The thought of putting his feelings into words, of confessing to Calum that he'd fallen for Alba despite every reason he shouldn't have, made Lachlann's chest tight.
But James was right.
He couldn't keep hiding this. Couldn't keep pretending it was anything less than what it was.
"I'll write it taenight," Lachlann said. "And I want Donald tae deliver it, like last time. He is the only one I trust with this. The only one who willnae let the letter fall into the wrong hands."
James moved toward the door, then paused. "Fer what it's worth? I think ye're good fer each other. I've seen the way she looks at ye too. And because that lass is as stubborn and brave as ye are, ye'll either make each other completely miserable or deliriously happy. Probably both."
Despite everything, Lachlann felt his mouth curve. "That's reassurin'."
"Just bein' honest." James grinned. "Now go write that letter before ye lose yer nerve."
He left, and Lachlann was alone with his thoughts and the weight of what he was about to do.
Two hours later, Lachlann sat at his desk surrounded by crumpled parchment. He'd started the letter four times, each attempt feeling more inadequate than the last.
How did you tell your best friend, your Covenant braither, that you'd fallen in love with his sister?
Finally, on the fifth try, the words began to flow:
Calum,
I'm writin' tae ye about a matter that cannae wait fer yer return, though God knows I wish I could have this conversation face tae face rather than through ink and parchment.
Alba is here, at Barra, under me protection as ye ken. Ye also ken about the incident at Dunstaffnage, Torquil MacLean's attempt tae force her hand. That I intervened and brought her tae me lands, where she'd be safe from his schemes.
That's the simple version. The truth is more complicated.
I've developed feelings fer yer sister. Deep feelings that go far beyond duty or obligation or the bonds of the Covenant. I've tried tae fight them, tried tae convince meself it was just protectiveness or concern. But I cannae lie tae ye, Calum. Nae about this.
I care fer Alba. I want her tae stay here, nae just fer now, until Torquil's threat is dealt with. I want her fer meself, as me wife. As the woman I build a future with.
I ken I have nay right tae ask this of ye. I ken it puts our friendship in a difficult position. But I'm askin' anyway, because the alternative—pretendin' I feel naethin', lyin’ tae ye, lettin' her go when this is over—is impossible.
I'm askin' fer yer permission tae court her properly. Tae pursue this with honor and honesty rather than hidin' it away like somethin' shameful.
If ye refuse, I'll respect that decision. I'll step back, keep me distance, ensure she's protected but naethin' more. I give ye me word on that.
But I'm hopin'—prayin', even—that ye'll understand. That ye'll see that me intentions are honorable and me feelings are true.
She deserves better than bein' used as a political pawn by men like Torquil. She deserves someone who sees her strength, her intelligence, her courage. Someone who wants her fer who she is, nae what she represents.
I want tae be that man, Calum. If ye'll let me. I believe she feels the same way I dae.
Yer braither in the Covenant,
Lachlann
He read it through three times, making small corrections, then sealed it with his signet ring before he could second-guess himself further.
James was waiting in the corridor when Lachlann emerged.
"It's done?" James asked.
"Aye." Lachlann handed over the letter. "Tell Donald tae guard it with his life."
"I will." James tucked the letter inside his doublet.
The next morning dawned clear and bright, perfect weather for the surprise Lachlann had been planning.
He found Alba in the library, already dressed and waiting with barely contained excitement.
"Ye said tae bring the scroll," she said, holding up the Chronicles of Loch Eilein. "Where are we goin'?"
"Somewhere special." Lachlann offered his arm. "Somewhere private. Just the two of us."
Her eyes lit up. "Truly?"
"Aye. Come on."
They made their way to the stables where Shadow, Lachlann’s horse, and Alba's own mount were already saddled and waiting. He helped her up, his hands lingering at her waist a moment longer than necessary.
The ride took them along the coastal path, winding between rocky outcroppings and patches of wild heather. Seabirds wheeled overhead, their cries mixing with the constant rush of waves against stone.
"It's beautiful," Alba breathed, her eyes on the sparkling water.
"Just wait."
After about an hour, Lachlann guided them off the main path onto a narrow track that led down toward the cliffs. The descent was steep and required careful navigation, but eventually they emerged onto a hidden beach tucked between towering rock faces.
White sand stretched in a perfect crescent, unmarred by footprints. Tide pools glittered like jewels where the water had receded. And the cliffs created a natural amphitheater that blocked the wind while letting in sunlight.
"Lachlann." Alba's voice was filled with wonder. "This is magnificent."
"Me secret place." He dismounted and helped her down. "I found it when I was a lad, explorin' the coastline. As far as I ken, nay one else comes here. It's hidden enough that ye have tae be lookin' fer it tae find it."
"And ye're sharin' it with me?"
"Aye." He pulled a blanket from his saddlebag and spread it on the sand near the cliff wall. "I thought ye might like somewhere quiet. Somewhere we could just... be. Without guards or council meetin's or threats loomin'."
Alba settled onto the blanket, her skirts pooling around her, still holding the scroll like a treasure. "It's perfect."
Lachlann sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "Open it. Tae the part about the battle itself."
She did, carefully unrolling the parchment to the marked section. The illustrations were faded but still visible—crude drawings of warriors, of the loch, of the five young boys who would become the Covenant brothers.
"Read it to me," Alba said softly. "The way yer faither read it tae ye."
So Lachlann did.
His voice carried across the small beach, mixing with the sound of waves and wind as he recited the words he'd heard countless times as a child. Words about courage and sacrifice. About boys forced to become men too soon. About bonds forged in blood and terror that would last a lifetime.
Alba listened, her head gradually tilting to rest against his shoulder. Her hand found his, their fingers threading together naturally.
When he reached the part about the oath, the promises the five survivors had made to each other, his voice grew rougher with emotion.
"We swear by blood and blade, by honor and heart, that we stand as braithers from this day until our last. What threatens one threatens all. What protects one protects all. We are bound beyond clan, beyond politics, beyond even death itself."
"That's beautiful," Alba whispered. "And terrible. Ye were so young."
"Aye. I was six. The others ranged from six to eight. Old enough tae remember everythin'. Young enough that it shaped us completely."
Alba turned to look at him, her dark eyes serious. "Is that why ye're so protective? Because of what happened then?"
"Partly." Lachlann set the scroll aside carefully. "But it's more than that with ye, Alba. It's nae just the Covenant bond. It's—"
He stopped, words failing him.
Alba's hand came up to cup his face. "I ken," she said softly. "I feel it too."
The kiss happened naturally, inevitably.
Lachlann's hand slid into her hair as he pulled her closer, tasting salt air and something uniquely Alba on her lips.
She responded immediately, her arms winding around his neck, pressing against him with a desperate kind of need that matched his own.
"Alba," he breathed against her mouth. "We should—we cannae—"
"Why?" Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "Because of propriety? Because someone might see?"
"Because once we cross this line, there's nay goin' back."
"I dinnae want tae go back." Her fingers curled into his shirt. "I want this. Want ye. Here, now, where it's just us."
"I've written tae Calum," Lachlann admitted, his voice rough. "Asked his permission tae court ye properly. Donald is deliverin' the letter as we speak."
Alba's breath caught. "Ye did?"
"Aye. Because I want more than stolen moments, lass. I want—" He cupped her face in both hands. "I want everythin' with ye."
"Then take it." She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Take me. Right here, right now. Before the world intrudes again."
Lachlann's control, already hanging by a thread, snapped completely.
He kissed her again, deeper, his hands moving to the laces of her dress with trembling fingers. Alba helped him, both of them fumbling with fabric and ties until finally—
Skin against skin.
Lachlann pulled back just enough to look at her, sprawled on the blanket with her hair spread like dark silk and her eyes heavy with want.
"Ye're sure?" he asked, giving her one last chance to stop it.
"I've never been more certain of anythin'."
His mouth found hers again as his hand slid down her body, learning the curves he'd only imagined before. Alba gasped against his lips when his fingers found the heat between her thighs, her hips arching into his touch.
"Lachlann—"
"I've got ye, lass." He kissed down her throat, her collarbone, lower. "Let me taste ye. Please."
Her answer was a breathless yes that dissolved into a moan as his mouth replaced his fingers.
Time became meaningless on that hidden beach.
There was only Alba—her taste, her sounds, the way she trembled and gasped his name as he brought her to peak after shuddering peak with his mouth and hands.
When she finally pulled him up, her face flushed and her breathing ragged, she kissed him deeply.
"I can taste meself on ye," she whispered, sounding awed and scandalized in equal measure.
"Aye." Lachlann's voice was wrecked. "And it's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced."
They lay tangled together afterward, their breathing slowly returning to normal, the sun warm on their bare skin.
"We should swim," Alba said eventually, tracing patterns on his chest. "Before we have tae go back."
"Aye." Lachlann kissed her temple. "One more perfect moment before reality returns."
They stood and ran naked into the waves, laughing like children, splashing and diving beneath the crystal-clear water. The cold was shocking but invigorating, washing away sweat and sand and leaving them clean and breathless.
Alba floated on her back, her dark hair spreading around her like a halo. "I wish we could stay here forever."
"So dae I, lass." Lachlann swam to her side. "So dae I."
But eventually, they had to leave their sanctuary.
They dressed in comfortable silence, both knowing that returning to the castle meant returning to duty and danger and all the complications they'd briefly escaped.
The ride home felt too short.
As the castle came into view, Lachlann reached over and caught Alba's hand.
"Whatever happens," he said quietly, "with Calum's response or Torquil's threats or anythin' else, today was worth it. Ye're worth it."
Alba squeezed his fingers. "Aye. We are."
And Lachlann held onto that certainty as they rode through the gates and back into the waiting storm.