Page 118 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

She wanted to feel some sort of control, and there was one thing she believed could help her feel that way.

Overcomin’ me fear of ridin’.

She had always been terrible at it, and after that fall two years ago, when she fled her betrothal to Rowan, she had completely given in to fear.

Until the day Gordon tried to help me ride again.

She intended to win against her fear this time. By the time she reached the stables that afternoon, her mind was made up.

“I want to learn how to ride,” she murmured to herself.

The words sounded strange, but they steadied her.

She wanted to do all the things she had once convinced herself she would never have the chance to do. And if Gordon intended to dissolve their binding, then she would not spend the remaining days hiding in her chamber and mourning a future he had already decided she could not have.

The stable smelled of hay, leather, and warm animals. Ailis approached one of the quieter mares, speaking softly as she stroked her neck.

“There now.”

The mare shifted beneath her hand, and the movement scared her for a bit.

Ailis swallowed and steadied her breath.

I can do this.

She had ridden before, and she could do it again.

I am nae that frightened lass anymore.

Or at least, she wanted to believe she wasn’t.

She gathered the reins, placed one foot in the stirrup and pulled herself into the saddle. For one glorious heartbeat, she felt triumphant just from climbing the mount. Then the mare heard a noise outside and shifted sharply beneath her.

Ailis’s heart lurched hard when the mare shied to the side. The movement caused her grip on the reins to slip.

“Easy—” she cried out.

The mare sidestepped again. This time, her balance went with it.

“Ahh!”

Her eyes closed as the scream tore from her, terror riding through the little confidence she had mustered. She felt her body leave the saddle and clenched her jaw, expecting the pain she knew would come next.

Instead, strong arms caught her around the waist. Her body struck against a solid chest rather than the hard-packed ground.

Gordon hauled her away from the horse in one swift movement.

“Bloody hell, Ailis!” His voice shook with anger.

Ailis stared at him, breathless as he set her on the ground.

His face was red all over, his eyes narrow and fixed on hers as his breathing raged with his fury. His hair had fallen loose around his face, and his chest rose sharply beneath his shirt as he looked her over.

He dragged a steadying breath in the next second and asked, “Are ye hurt?”

“Nay,” she muttered, still too stunned to speak up.

“Did ye strike yer head?”