Page 32 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

Ailis cleared her throat and tried to pretend her cheeks did not still burn. She glanced at Gordon and found him intently staring at his aunt.

Neither of them spoke for a moment as Marion glanced between them then she looked around the stable and asked, “Did ye go ridin’ in the moors?”

“Aye,” she exclaimed. “I almost broke me neck, but it was really kind of him to take me.”

Ailis moved now, so she could stand next to Marion and continue, “Shall we return to the keep then?”

“Of course,” Marion agreed, and Ailis led the way, allowing her skirts to flow around her freely while denying herself the chance to look back at Gordon.

But she felt his gaze burning into her back the entire time as they walked away.

Ailis spent the rest of the day dreading the thought of the moment they shared in the barn, and by night it tormented her.

And for what reason?

She did not want this union, and neither did he. Yet, somehow there were only two weeks left to the binding, and she had not accomplished what she intended.

As she strolled down the hallways the next afternoon, heading for the sitting room, she remembered the feeling of his touch again. The weight of his hand at her waist and the rough pull of his breath as his lips parted hers both played a role in her torture.

Ailis hated that she thought of him. She hated that in each maddening instant when she did, her insides tingled with a fresh wave of excitement she could not explain. Heat settled beneath her skin and stayed there as she entered the room. Perhaps tea and a little women talk would help provide distraction?

Marion chatted with Beth, and the children played around the sitting room as she entered and curtsied before taking her seat.

“Ailis, dearest,” Marion began as soon as she sat, and Ailis smiled. “I was about to make some tea and send for ye, but now that ye are here, ye should make us some.”

A servant entered the room with another kettle in that moment, and she set it on the table before scurrying away again.

Ailis reached for it when precise hands, knowing that she could not let Marion or anyone else notice how unsettled she felt. Ailis lifted her gaze from the steam after the first pour.

“I am still learnin’ the ways of this keep,” she said lightly. “We never had afternoon tea at home.”

Marion smiled. “It is one of me little customs, me dear.”

“Ye must be terribly pleased to have found someone willin’ to indulge them.”

“I am afraid Gordon will merely entertain the notion for me sake.”

“He doesnae strike me as a man of many interests. I, for one, ken that he wouldnae wish to drink tea,” Ailis observed, watching Marion’s expression and wanting to see how she would react.

Nae that I care what his interests are, she told herself.

She was merely curious to know a little about him.

And to ken if he thought of her or the kiss at all.

Marion laughed a little as she said, “Whisky is more to his tastes.” Her eyes twinkled with another smile. “Surprisingly, he does enjoy many things.”

That shocked Ailis. “He does?”

“Besides his obsession with his sword, he does enjoy ridin’, and ye should see him play the clarsach.”

Ailis lifted the sugar bowl as Marion spoke of him and her fingers paused for a moment. She looked at Marion, who was examining the flowers in the centerpiece.

Then she looked at the bowls. One held sugar and the other held salt, but she did not know which the tea required.

Her eyes narrowed before she decided on impulse and added a little salt to the kettle.

Marion looked up. “Ye are becomin’ quite accomplished,” Marion complimented, and she stirred.