Page 58 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

Gordon could hear her breathing and his own filling the silence. He could not let himself get carried away, so he turned away from her.

“If that is all,” he said roughly, forcing the old hardness back into his voice, “ye should return to yer chamber.”

Ailis did not answer immediately.

Gordon kept his eyes on the fire.

He felt her gaze upon his back, but she said nothing, and he held his breath until he heard his study door close after her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Morning sunlight had barely reached the eastern windows when Ailis began searching for Brochan.

The little creature had been missing since breakfast, and Lileas had informed her with the solemn certainty of a child delivering matters of great importance that Brochan had “gone to see the Laird.”

The hedgehog seemed to have a peculiar fondness for Gordon’s chamber, perhaps because it remained quiet and undisturbed most of the day. Ailis suspected Brochan had discovered a warm spot beneath the bed and decided it was his.

The sun was well above the hills now.

Gordon would surely have gone on patrol.

Ailis climbed the stairs without troubling to ask permission.

She reached his door. She pushed it open without knocking, and her entire body went still.

Gordon stood beside the washbasin. He had evidently only just finished washing. His hair was damp, loose around his face and shoulders, and water still glimmered upon his skin. His clothes lay discarded over a nearby chair while his broad, bare chest was turned partly toward her.

Ailis forgot why she had come. For one disastrous heartbeat, she forgot everything.

The old memory struck first. Two years ago, Gordon had been bare to the waist when she walked into his study. She recalled her own stunned silence and the rush of color that had filled her face.

Gordon looked at her calmly now, and her gaze drifted down his scarred chest, taking in the sinewy muscles there and the tautness of his abdomen. He did not scramble for a shirt or even appear embarrassed. He simply stood there, watching her as though she had walked into his chamber every morning of her life.

Ailis’ heart thudded once, hard enough to hurt. She lifted her chin. Then she stepped farther inside.

“Ye might warn a lass,” she said coolly.

Gordon’s mouth almost curved. “Ye didnae knock. This is me chamber… I fear it is I who should have been warned.”

Ailis narrowed her eyes.

“That doesnae mean ye ought to stand about lookin’ like that.”

His brow lifted. “Like what?”

She nearly choked. “Like…” Her gaze betrayed her, traveling for the briefest instant over the broad planes of his chest, the old scars crossing his skin, the strong line of his shoulders. She dragged it back to his face. “Like a man with nay sense of decency.”

His eyes darkened. “I was washin’ meself when ye barged in,” he argued.

She rolled her eyes in response. “So I see.”

Silence settled between them again. Ailis could hear the faint drip of water striking stone as her cheeks flamed.

She should have left. Instead, she walked farther into the chamber and past him. The scent of water reached her first, clean and cool, but beneath it was something distinctly Gordon. Leather. Soap. Warm skin.

“Does this disturb ye?” he asked.

Ailis stopped. “What?”