Page 29 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

For a heartbeat, Gordon only stared. Ailis could not read his face. That was one of the many vexing things about him. He gave very little away unless one watched closely. And she had begun to watch closely though she told herself it was only because a woman ought to study her enemy.

His gaze dropped to the parchment in her lap. The mare’s neck curved in charcoal, half-finished but recognizable.

“Ye draw well,” he said. The compliment was so unexpected that Ailis’ fingers tightened around the charcoal.

She looked down quickly and answered playfully. “Aye. I ken.”

A soft breath left him. “Of course, ye do.”

Her lips twitched before she could stop them.

Then his eyes shifted toward the gray mare.

“Do ye ken how to ride?” Gordon asked.

The question stole the ease from her chest.

Ailis’s smile did not fall so much as freeze. Her fingers went suddenly cold around the charcoal, and the stable, which had felt warm and close a moment before, seemed too large.

She blanked out for a moment as she recalled the familiar sounds of hooves striking wet earth and the feel of rain slashing her face when she lost her balance in the saddle. She vividly recalled the ache of her body hitting the ground. Too full of remembered sounds. It knocked the breath from her lungs as it had two years ago.

Gordon’s voice cut through the memory. “Ailis?”

“Aye,” she said. Her throat felt too narrow. “But the last time I rode…” The words thinned as she swallowed hard.

Gordon did not move. Did not fill the silence with questions. He simply waited, and somehow that made it harder.

“I fell,” she said at last. “It was hard, and it was…” She looked away, shame prickling behind her eyes because fear had always made her feel smaller than anger ever did. “Well, it was the last time I rode.”

Gordon understood. She saw it in the way his face changed. Not soft, exactly, but his eyes stilled, and the sternness of his mouth eased by the smallest measure.

“The night ye tried to flee from yer uncle when I came to get ye,” he said.

Ailis’s spine stiffened. “Aye. If ye hadnae found me, I daenae ken what would have happened.”

He stepped closer to her. “Then perhaps it is time ye ride again.”

Ailis laughed, but it broke at the edges. “Perhaps fears exist for a reason.”

“Or perhaps,” Gordon said quietly, walking to the gray mare’s stall, “it exists to remind us what still has power over us.”

He opened the stall, haltered the horse, and led the mare forward with a calm hand on the rope. The horse came easily, trusting him. Of course, she did. Creatures likely obeyed Gordon because they sensed that disobedience might be met with a lecture on duty.

Ailis set her sketch aside and rose slowly. “I daenae like this.”

“I daenae think ye should.”

“Then why make me do it?”

His gaze met hers over the mare’s neck. “Because ye shouldnae lose ridin’ forever to one fall.”

“Ye are very fond of decidin’ what I should and should nae lose.” The words came sharper than intended, but he did not rise to them.

“I’ll be beside ye the entire time,” Gordon said as he saddled the horse. “Ye have me word.”

His word. Can I trust it?

She approached the mare with reluctant steps. The gray turned her head, dark eyes gentle, breath warm against Ailis’ sleeve. Ailis touched her nose with trembling fingers.