Page 41 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

He hated the bitter taste that thought left at the back of his tongue.

The thought struck him harder than he expected. Gordon had no knowledge of how to handle the sensations running through him at once.

His uncle had never taught him. Alistair had taught him how to fight. To endure pain and read the enemy’s weakness.

He taught me to survive a winter night with nay fire. Nay to console a cryin’ lass.

Gordon took one step backward, wanting to leave quietly, but the gravel shifted beneath his boot and interrupted the silence.

Ailis turned. Her blue eyes found him immediately, and still, they were bright with tears. She blinked quickly then lifted her hand and wiped beneath one eye as if she could erase the evidence before he saw it.

Too late. He had seen.

“Me Laird,” she said softly.

He did not answer at once. He wanted to go to her, but he did not know what he would do next if he did.

Gordon found his voice instead, and even though it shook, he managed, “I didnae mean for me singin’ to upset ye, Ma’am.”

Ailis dragged in an audible breath as she turned to face him fully, and he moved without thinking because he was drawn to her.

“Me mother used to sing that song,” Ailis said. “I daenae remember much of it,” she continued. “Nay truly. But hearing ye play it…” Her fingers curled against her skirts. “It brought somethin’ back.”

Gordon’s throat tightened. “I am sorry,” he said.

Ailis shook her head. “Ye have nothin’ to be sorry for. It only reminded me of me mother.”

Gordon did not know what to say. He stood there with his hands at his sides, feeling the cold night settle over his shoulders and something far warmer gathering beneath his ribs. Then he finally stepped toward her.

“I daenae remember much of me own parents,” he began. The words surprised him. He had never shared that with anyone.

Ailis’s expression changed. The hurt in her eyes softened into something that made him want to inch closer to her.

“Me uncle took me when I was a wee lad,” Gordon continued. “He raised me.”

Ailis’ brows drew together. “Did he treat ye well?”

Gordon looked away because he feared his eyes would give it all away. He recalled the cold chamber below the castle floors where he slept and the endless nights training to fight. He recalled the first time he wielded a sword and his own wounds from it.

He could tell her none of that, so he said instead, “He taught me to be strong.”.

Ailis watched him. “What else did he teach ye?”

Gordon’s jaw tightened. He could still hear Alistair’s voice.

Pain is weakness leavin’ the body. Daenae cry, boy!

He remembered the wooden practice blade and the bruises along his ribs from training. He remembered learning to swallow every emotion and how to never trust anyone.

Gordon looked at Ailis. She stood before him beneath the moonlight, eyes bright, face open, waiting for an answer. He could not give her one.

Because if I do, she might understand me.

And if she understood him, she might stay. And if she stayed…

He might begin to enjoy the light she carried into his life. He realized with a shiver racing through him that that frightened him more than any enemy.

Gordon stepped back, and Ailis’ expression fell slightly.