Page 10 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

“Ye need nae worry too much,” Sorcha said beside her, reaching for her hand as they stood in a corner of the grand hall and watched their brother speak with Gordon and Rowan one last time.

“It is hard nae to,” Ailis said to Sorcha without looking at her. “Look at him,” she continued, her gaze landing on Gordon again as she felt another tightening in her gut.

He wore a scowl deep enough to mar his features, and there was little softness left in it. The little scar running down the side of his chin was evident as his jaw hardened and his eyes stayed pinned on the ledger in front of him.

The ledger we ought to sign.

“He isnae the man ye would have wished for, but he isnae a monster either. He will care for and provide for ye, and he will…”

“What about love?” Ailis questioned as the thought came to her. A wistful pang clenched at her heart as she shook her head and swallowed hard.

Panic seared through her as she turned to her sister again. “All I wish for is to paint and play the piano forte. I wish to travel and read of the histories to me heart’s content. I wish to…” she trailed off, her heart sinking even further with a bleakness because she knew she would not experience any of the things she wished for. “I wish for love. I wish to have daughters with hair I can braid and tie with ribbons. I wish…” The rest of her words slowed as she shook her head.

Sorcha’s grip tightened on hers. “Love is possible if ye open yer heart to it.”

The words struck Ailis with an impact that made a snicker burst out of her. The sound simply tore free, bright and sharp as a startled bird taking flight from the rafters. It rang through the hall before she could catch it, too sudden, too clear, and far too full of disbelief to be mistaken for anything sweet.

Love. Between Gordon and me? The Dragon Laird?

The very notion struck some wild, foolish place inside her and sent laughter spilling out again before pride could clamp a hand over it. It fluttered in her chest, half amusement, half panic, edged with a sarcasm so sharp it nearly hurt to breathe around it. It also gained the attention of the men standing a distance from them.

The laugh died when her brother lifted his brow first. Ailis pretended to cough and hiked her chin up to stay steady. Her breath snagged when Gordon’s gaze found her from across the hall, dark and steady and unreadable.

He did not glare. That would have been easier. No, he only looked at her, still as carved stone, as if her laughter had reached some place in him that he would rather no one touch.

Heat crept up her throat, and she cleared it softly again, straightening her spine and arranging her hands neatly before her.

“Ailis, come forward,” Callan called then, and her stomach dipped because she knew it was time.

Signing the ledger meant binding herself to Gordon. All that would be left after that was a proper binding and a celidih to celebrate their union.

For one breath, she stayed where she was. Then Sorcha turned slightly and gave her a small, encouraging nod. There was worry in her sister’s eyes, aye, but tenderness too. A reminder to be brave.

But can I be? Can I be as brave as she?

Doubt borrowed alive deep inside Ailis because she did not believe she could ever be as brave as her sister. She had fled her marriage alliance two years ago, and Sorcha had stepped up to replace her. Marrying Rowan and fulfilling her duty to their clan was a bravery Ailis did not think she had possessed.

But Sorcha had been steady.

And it had been a relief that her sister had been perfect, so she did not have to be.

Ailis finally lifted her chin and stepped forward. Each step sounded too loud against the rushes. Too many eyes followed her. She kept her gaze on Callan at first then on Rowan then anywhere but on Gordon.

Until she reached him. Gordon rose and extended a hand to her. It was such a simple gesture, yet it shocked her because she did not expect it.

Her fingers hesitated for only a breath before she placed her hand in his. Warmth closed around her at once. His skin was hot against hers, his palm large and calloused, rough from reins and swords.

Ailis’s breath hitched, and she hated that it did.

The touch traveled through her before she could stop it, a swift, treacherous spark leaping from her fingers to her wrist then higher, curling beneath her ribs.

Her heart gave a startled beat. Her skin seemed to wake beneath his touch. But she could not tell if he felt anything when he touched her. His jaw stayed tight, and his face gave nothing away.

Even now, as they were about to bind their lives together, he still would not look at her. His fingers, however, covered hers firmly, and he led her toward the table with slow steps before taking the quill from Callan.

“This is the moment,” Callan said to her with a smile when she lifted her eyes to his. “I will see ye at the bindin’, dearest sister.”

He stepped closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling her in for a hug. “Daenae think of doin’ anythin’ foolish, Ailis. This is for the best.”