Page 80 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

“Good.” His voice was low, and he angled his head to look at her for a bit.

She studied his face, realizing the hard lines around his mouth deepened, but his eyes softened with concern. “Ye are worried.”

“I am cautious.”

His eyes met hers. For a moment, neither spoke.

Then the musicians struck up a lively tune, and a cheer rose from the far end of the courtyard. Someone shouted that the first competition was beginning, and Ailis sighed.

“Save me a dance tonight, Miss Ailis,” Gordon said, shocking her with the request as she gasped and looked into his eyes again.

He strode away without another word, and when Ailis turned with the burn of her flush, she saw Sorcha in a corner with Jane and Marion. All three women beamed encouragingly as they waved at her, and she knew they were cheering for her and Gordon.

The sack was carried into the center of the field, and Ailis stared at it with growing suspicion.

It was little more than a stout woolen sack, reinforced at the seams, its mouth wide enough for a man to climb inside. The rules were simple enough. The warriors would place both legs within it, grip the upper edge, and hop across the marked ground to the far post and back again.

The first man to return without falling would win. It was a simple, ridiculous game, and judging by the number of men already laughing, it was apparently very entertaining.

“Ye cannae be serious,” Ailis murmured.

Sorcha laughed beside her. “It is a Highland game.”

“It looks like a sack,” she said again as she eyed the thing and wondered what the game organizer Malcolm had come up with for the winner’s prize.

“It is a sack.”

“That doesnae make it better.”

The first pair stepped forward. The men climbed into their sacks while the gathered clans cheered. Ailis watched as they bent their knees, gripping the rough wool around their waists. Then they were off. They hopped and hopped, each desperate to get to the finish line.

One man stumbled almost immediately, recovered, and was greeted by a roar of laughter. The other surged ahead.

Ailis found herself laughing despite herself. “Oh, look at him!”

“He’ll fall,” Sorcha predicted and held her breath, her hands framing her mouth as she waited for it to happen.

“He willnae,” Ailis argued.

“He will,” Marion chirped in, and just then, the man stumbled on the ground, rolling over while the other continued in their pursuit.

Ailis covered her mouth as laughter escaped her. Her shoulders quaked with the sound. She pressed her lips together, but the giggle still escaped her.

“It is yer fault he fell,” she told Sorcha, who was chuckling too and trying to hold back.

“It wasnae!”

The next pair entered for the games, and Callan was part of this time.

Men stumbled, rolled, cursed and laughed as the crowd shouted encouragement. Even some of the older warriors were grinning.

Ailis began to understand why the games mattered.

For a little while, no one was a laird or a servant. They were simply men trying to beat one another across a field.

Then Laird Kerr stepped forward to join in, and the laughter faded.

Kerr climbed into the sack, and his gaze danced across the yard until it landed on hers. He did not smile, but as if trying to send her a message, he nodded softly just before the signal sounded.