Page 36 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"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.