Page 30 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

“She is calm?” Ailis asked.

“Aye.”

“She doesnae throw people?”

“She doesnae throw anyone unless they frighten her first.”

“Comfortin’.”

Gordon held the reins and nodded toward the mounting block. She held her chin and climbed it even though her insides trembled with a nauseating fear.

The moment she settled upon the saddle, her whole body went rigid. The leather creaked beneath her. The reins lay in her hands, but her fingers closed around them too tightly. Her knuckles whitened.

Her breath came shallow. The mare shifted, feeling every drop of fear that traveled through Ailis’ stiff arms and down the reins.

“Easy,” Gordon said. The mare tossed her head.

The mare shifted again, hooves scraping straw.

Ailis gasped softly. She hated the sound at once. Hated the way fear seized her throat. Hated the stable walls blurring into rain and mud and the memory of lying winded on the ground, certain no one would come.

“Hold,” Gordon said. He was already moving.

Ailis stiffened further, the worst thing she could have done. The mare tossed her head again and shifted just enough underneath her to unbalance her.

Ailis’ breath vanished.

Then Gordon was there. One hand closed firmly over hers, steadying the reins. The other settled at her waist, strong and secure, anchoring her before she could slip. His body came close alongside hers, the warmth of him cutting through panic more surely than any command.

“Breathe,” he murmured. His voice was low. Rough. Near enough that she felt it against her skin as much as heard it.

Ailis tried, but nothing came.

“Again,” Gordon said, softer now. “With me.”

He breathed slowly. She followed because he left her no room for pride.

Air entered her lungs in a shaking pull. The mare settled beneath his calm guidance, but Ailis did not. She became aware of everything all at once. Gordon’s hand over hers and the other at her waist.

She felt the hard plane of his chest lightly against her back. His breath near her ear. The scent of leather, rain, and him surrounding her until the stable seemed to fall away.

Her fear did not vanish, but it slowed beneath everything else. Her pulse still raced, but now, it raced for reasons that had nothing to do with the horse beneath her.

“Like that,” Gordon said softly.

Ailis swallowed. His hand flexed at her waist, not possessive, not improper, only steadying.

That somehow made it worse. She could not bear the gentleness of it. Not from him. He helped her dismount in one smooth motion.

The moment her feet touched straw, she pulled from him, allowing anger to mask the real sensations burning through her.

“Ye shouldnae have forced me to do that,” she snapped.

“Ailis…”

“It was nae yer place,” she argued again. Anger rose swiftly because it was easier to hold than the trembling still moving through her limbs. “I am nae over me fear. Sometimes fear protects ye. Sometimes it keeps ye alive.”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. That silence angered her more. Her chest felt so clustered, she feared it would explode. And Gordon kept looking at her through it all, his eyes intense and unyielding.