Page 78 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

He could not allow himself to want it.

Wanting such a life was dangerous. Because once a man allowed himself to imagine something good, he could begin to fear losing it.

And that fear made him weak.

CHAPTER TWENTY

By the morning of the celebrations, MacLaren Castle scarcely looked like itself.

Clan banners snapped from the battlements, their colors bright against the gray Highland sky. Fires blazed in great iron braziers throughout the bailey, sending ribbons of smoke into the crisp air. Musicians sat beneath a timber awning, their pipes and fiddles filling the courtyard with lively tunes, while tables groaned under honey cakes, oat bannocks, roasted meats, bowls of berries, and cups of spiced ale.

Children darted between the tents, hounds barked, and horses stamped impatiently against the earth.

Everywhere Ailis looked, there were ribbons. Blue ones, green ones, and even red ones.

Gordon willnae like this.

Some poor unsuspecting maid had even tied one around Brochan’s basket.

Ailis stared at it. “Poor creature.”

Lileas giggled. “He looks handsome.”

“He looks like he would rather be out in the gardens.”

Brochan disappeared beneath the basket while she spoke, and Ailis laughed at it. Her gaze kept wandering, though.

There were couples everywhere. Many of the Highland clans had come to join the games and potentially, the binding celidh in a few days. As the time drew nearer, her mind kept wandering nervously with different thoughts.

Is Gordon still tryin’ to be rid of me?

Does he really want to go through with this?

What about the other night in his study when he touched me? What did that mean?

She needed answers, yet she feared the answers might scare her.

Exhaling, she headed for the courtyard to find Jane and Marion.

Young men and women were being pushed together by relatives who pretended the games were nothing more than tradition. A maiden had just been challenged to throw a ring over a spear while three unmarried warriors watched her with ridiculous intensity. Nearby, two young men were competing to lift a heavy stone while their clansmen shouted encouragement.

Ailis watched one of the men stagger beneath it.

“Surely that cannot be considered a strong throw,” Sorcha commented when she walked over to her and smiled.

Ailis groaned when the men began to argue. “I kent this was a terrible idea.”

Sorcha slipped her arm through hers. “This will be interestin’ if ye open yer mind to it, sister. Besides… would ye nae like to see the Laird compete for yer hand in the first dance?”

Ailis glanced toward the far side of the courtyard where she suspected Gordon was. He stood among several of his men, speaking with Malcolm. He wore his dark plaid, the wind catching the edge of it, his red hair stirred by the breeze.

He looked entirely too calm. As though he had not been forced into days of games designed to make two people fall in love.

Ailis looked away.

Daenae stare at him.

She lasted perhaps three heartbeats then she looked again. His gaze was already upon her, and her stomach fluttered with speedy delight.