Page 106 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

“Will it hurt?”

“Heavens nay, dearest,” Sorcha said.

“Aye, it will,” Harriet supplied at the same time.

Panic struck her so swiftly that her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach dropped, and suddenly the walls seemed too close, the air too thin.

“Daenae scare her,” Sorcha said to Harriet as the woman chuckled, and Ailis slowly dislodged her hands from Sorcha, the overwhelming sensations flooding her, taking control.

She remembered Gordon’s mouth against hers, the warmth of his hands, the way her whole body seemed to awaken beneath the simplest touch. If a kiss could leave her so shaken, what would it feel like to surrender completely to him?

This is what they speak of, right? Consummatin’?

Her stomach fluttered at the thought, and a slow shiver traveled down her spine.

She imagined his hands holding her close, his rough voice murmuring against her ear, his breath warm against her skin. The thought made her fingers curl into her skirts.

What would it be like to let him touch me without either of us stoppin’?

“I… I need a moment,” she said to Sorcha as a restless warmth spread beneath her ribs. She pressed a hand to her chest and found her heart racing.

She could feel every beat as she hurried out of the shop and ducked in a corner to evade Gordon’s guards standing out front waiting.

I merely need some time on me own.

The cool village air struck her face, and she drew in a deep breath, reveling in it while her cheeks burned.

Ailis began walking without purpose. At first, she merely meant to clear her head. Then she passed the baker, the smithy, and several cottages she had never seen before because she had never walked through the village on her own. She turned down another path, and the farther she walked, the more her thoughts scattered.

Gordon’s face appeared in her mind.

His mouth, his hands, the tremble of his voice as he kissed her…

All of that clouded her mind as she walked, as if hoping to go farther and farther away from the feeling. When she finally stopped walking, it was because her feet hurt and also because she felt the first droplet of rain on her cheeks.

Her stomach sank when she looked around her, slowly turning in a circle.

“Oh, Saints.”

The seamstress’s shop was nowhere in sight, and she had no idea how to find her way back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Gordon knew something was wrong the moment he entered the keep.

It was too quiet. Usually, there was some sound waiting for him when he returned: servants crossing the hall, children laughing, Marion’s voice carrying from the kitchens, or Ailis’ laughter.

Sometimes she laughed so freely that her whole face changed, her eyes shining, her dimples appearing, and her shoulders trembling with the effort to contain it.

He had found himself listening for it too many times since she arrived. He would hear it from the courtyard and know she was there before he saw her. He would catch it drifting from the kitchens and pause without meaning to. Even when he pretended to be occupied, some part of him always followed the sound.

Now, the keep was silent, and he missed it.

His gaze moved instinctively across the great hall in search of her. He saw Lileas sitting upon the rushes with Jane, arranging small wooden figures in a row. Brochan waddled determinedly between them, nosing at whatever had caught his interest.

Gordon slowed and hoped she would come out from a corner, but she was not with them either.

His eyes remained on the child as he contemplated asking the servant about her.