Page 94 of The Dragon Laird’s Obsession

Alive.

Laughter filled the hall. It brought a softness that had never existed in these walls. Music played near the hearth, and servants weaved through the grounds carrying trays and food around.

Gordon’s gaze moved slowly across the room, and then he saw her. Ailis was dancing with Sorcha. They twirled around together, holding each other’s hands and laughing as they moved. He saw the brilliant smile on Ailis’ face and knew she was happy. He had never seen her so excited before.

Her skirts swept across the rushes as she spun, laughing while her sister tried to keep pace. Her hair had come loose around her face, and her cheeks were bright with happiness.

Gordon’s chest tightened at the sight because he enjoyed it too much.

He could not remember the last time the great hall had looked like this, even though they had hosted feasts recently.

Tonight was different. The air was lighter, as if there was nothing to worry about or fear.

His gaze lingered on Ailis again, and even though she still had not noticed him, he felt his heart soar.

He wanted to cross the room. Wanted to hear her laugh closer and tell her that she had done good work with her decorations. But doing that meant admitting to her and himself that he liked what she had done.

And admittin’ that means showin’ that I like that she is here.

And he needed to remember that even though he was growing accustomed to Ailis’ presence, she still did not belong with him.

And if she ever chooses to leave, I willnae stop her.

He would never take away that part of her that wanted to be free.

Gordon remained by the doorway still, even though every part of him longed to walk forward.

His gaze shifted around the hall, and he noticed instantly that Kerr was absent.

Gordon’s attention sharpened.

Where is he, and what is he up to?

His instincts warned him to find Malcolm first and have his guards search the grounds. But something else caught his eye before he could do that. He noticed the hallway beyond the hall had been decorated as well.

Gordon walked toward it, and his breath left him when he saw the first painting hung on the wall.

His mother’s face stared back at him from the walls as breath left his lungs.

For a moment, he could not move. The paintings stared back at him in soft strokes: the curve of her face, the suggestion of her smile, the eyes he remembered only in fragments. Memories he had locked away for years seemed to stir beneath his ribs.

His throat tightened, and even though he swallowed hard, the ache remained. His memories had been faint when he painted them, but now, the paintings were finished, and they seemed more familiar. The brush strokes looked clearly fresh with paint, so he knew someone had worked on it.

That someone had to be Ailis.

He reached toward one frame but stopped before touching it.

Gordon’s eyes closed briefly, his hand hovering just in front of the painting as he drew in a deep breath. A painfully tender sensation moved through his chest. He could not describe it exactly.

Is it gratitude? Am I grateful that she brought out these paintings? That she did something I have never been able to bring meself to do?

Across the hall, Ailis laughed again.

Gordon looked toward her. She turned at that precise moment, and their eyes met.

Her smile softened as she looked at him, her lips parting as he suspected the flicker in her eyes was one of expectation.

Maybe she wants me to join the celebrations? Dance with her?