Page 90 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Across the courtyard, Gordon kept his eyes upon Kerr.

The man had remained seated for most of the evening, speaking little as the feast carried on around him. Laughter rose from the tables, musicians played near the hearth, and people moved through the final dance in pairs.

Gordon scarcely seemed to notice any of it. His attention stayed fixed on watching every move Kerr made.

He was so engrossed in that he had barely drunk his ale.

What is Kerr up to? What does he really want? Revenge?

Laird Kerr struck Gordon as the kind of man who would not let a grudge go. The many rumors about him were true. His people and other clans feared his cruelty.

Laird Kerr was once rumored to have burned a cottage full of his own people because they refused to pay tribute to his castle during a drought. He was called the Mad Laird after that. The title did nothing to deter him.

Gordon did not know how much time passed as he pondered until Ailis laughed beside him. The sound caught him completely unprepared, and he turned.

She stood so close that their shoulders nearly touched. Her eyes were bright with whatever Sorcha had whispered to her, and a smile tugged at her lips as she watched the dancers.

Gordon’s breath caught. The warmth he had spent the entire evening trying to ignore surged through him again.

Gather yerself.

He looked away and focused on Kerr again. At least, his heart did not beat too fast when he watched the man.

Eventually, Kerr rose, and Gordon watched him turn away. His instincts fired up when he saw Kerr move toward the courtyard’s exit, and without thinking, Gordon followed.

“Stay here,” he told Malcolm.

Before Malcolm could answer, Gordon followed Kerr, his strides purposeful. He caught up with him near the outer passage.

Kerr stopped in his tracks and slowly turned.

“Are ye followin’ me, Laird MacLaren?”

Gordon’s expression remained hard. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what ye are plannin’.”

A faint smile touched Kerr’s mouth as he eyed Gordon slowly, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Why are ye here, Laird Kerr?”

“Ye invited me,” he answered then lifted one shoulder in a carefree shrug. “It was courteous to attend, do ye nae think? Considerin’ yer intended was once promised to me?”

“Miss Ailis wasnae promised to ye,” Gordon corrected. “Daenae think of causin’ any trouble here.”

Kerr’s smile widened. “We will see.”

Gordon watched him disappear around the corner after that.

His hand settled instinctively near his sword as the knot in his insides tightened with even more awareness now. He stood there for another long moment, contemplating following Kerr when another movement caught his eye.

This time it was Ailis walking down the halls, some guards trailing behind her at a distance. She slipped quietly through the garden doors, carrying something beneath her arm.

Gordon frowned. “What is she doin’?” he muttered to himself.