Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Ailis discovered that a kiss could be far more troublesome than a betrothal.
The betrothal had been simple. Her brother had bargained her away without her consent. Gordon had stood there, with his hard face and colder voice, and agreed to it.
And Ailis had decided she would make him regret every moment of it. But this… this kiss was different.
This kiss had ruined everything.
She panted as Marion walked closer to them, her brows arched as the question Ailis knew she wondered about left her lips.
“What are ye two up to?” Marion asked again as they stepped away from each other, pretending they were not reveling in the sinful pleasures that overpowered common sense.
Ailis cleared her throat and tried to pretend her cheeks did not still burn. She glanced at Gordon and found him intently staring at his aunt.
Neither of them spoke for a moment as Marion glanced between them then she looked around the stable and asked, “Did ye go ridin’ in the moors?”
“Aye,” she exclaimed. “I almost broke me neck, but it was really kind of him to take me.”
Ailis moved now, so she could stand next to Marion and continue, “Shall we return to the keep then?”
“Of course,” Marion agreed, and Ailis led the way, allowing her skirts to flow around her freely while denying herself the chance to look back at Gordon.
But she felt his gaze burning into her back the entire time as they walked away.
Ailis spent the rest of the day dreading the thought of the moment they shared in the barn, and by night it tormented her.
And for what reason?
She did not want this union, and neither did he. Yet, somehow there were only two weeks left to the binding, and she had not accomplished what she intended.
As she strolled down the hallways the next afternoon, heading for the sitting room, she remembered the feeling of his touch again. The weight of his hand at her waist and the rough pull of his breath as his lips parted hers both played a role in her torture.
Ailis hated that she thought of him. She hated that in each maddening instant when she did, her insides tingled with a fresh wave of excitement she could not explain.
Heat settled beneath her skin and stayed there as she entered the room.
Perhaps tea and a little women talk would help provide distraction?
Marion chatted with Beth, and the children played around the sitting room as she entered and curtsied before taking her seat.
“Ailis, dearest,” Marion began as soon as she sat, and Ailis smiled. “I was about to make some tea and send for ye, but now that ye are here, ye should make us some.”
A servant entered the room with another kettle in that moment, and she set it on the table before scurrying away again.
Ailis reached for it when precise hands, knowing that she could not let Marion or anyone else notice how unsettled she felt. Ailis lifted her gaze from the steam after the first pour.
“I am still learnin’ the ways of this keep,” she said lightly. “We never had afternoon tea at home.”
Marion smiled. “It is one of me little customs, me dear.”
“Ye must be terribly pleased to have found someone willin’ to indulge them.”
“I am afraid Gordon will merely entertain the notion for me sake.”
“He doesnae strike me as a man of many interests. I, for one, ken that he wouldnae wish to drink tea,” Ailis observed, watching Marion’s expression and wanting to see how she would react.
Nae that I care what his interests are, she told herself.
She was merely curious to know a little about him.
And to ken if he thought of her or the kiss at all.
Marion laughed a little as she said, “Whisky is more to his tastes.” Her eyes twinkled with another smile. “Surprisingly, he does enjoy many things.”
That shocked Ailis. “He does?”
“Besides his obsession with his sword, he does enjoy ridin’, and ye should see him play the clarsach.”
Ailis lifted the sugar bowl as Marion spoke of him and her fingers paused for a moment. She looked at Marion, who was examining the flowers in the centerpiece.
Then she looked at the bowls. One held sugar and the other held salt, but she did not know which the tea required.
Her eyes narrowed before she decided on impulse and added a little salt to the kettle.
Marion looked up. “Ye are becomin’ quite accomplished,” Marion complimented, and she stirred.
“I try,” she laughed.
“I can see that.”
Footsteps sounded outside as their mirth mingled in the air, and Ailis felt his presence before he entered the room.
He came in without hurry, one hand resting briefly against the door before he crossed the room. His hair was tied at the nape, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, and the familiar sternness settled over his face.
Gordon looked at her only once, but it was enough to send shivers racing through her again. Ailis felt the flush creeping up her skin, warming her cheeks before she could stop it, and she could feel his gaze burning into her as she felt her cheeks color.
The memory of his mouth came alive so quickly that her fingers tightened around her teacup.
His gaze lingered for one heartbeat too long then he finally looked away.
Ailis lowered her eyes to her cup and swallowed hard. Her heart had never beat this fast before. Now, it was almost as if a stallion took flight inside her.
Marion gestured toward the empty chair. “Come and sit, Gordon.”
He took it, settling into the settee with his long legs crossed.
The distance between them felt suddenly much too small as she pretended not to notice him.
Ailis poured his tea and handed him his cup as Marion picked up hers.
“Thank ye,” he murmured, the rough, calloused pad of his thumb dragging over the smooth, sensitive skin of her knuckles as his hand closed over the hands.
Her pulse jumped to her throat again. The flutters that took flight in her this time stemmed from deep in her stomach. Another rush of warmth followed in its wake, and she pulled back quickly, like she had been burned.
“Ye are welcome, Me Laird.”
Their eyes met as she cleared her throat again, and his eyes fastened on hers. The second ticked away in a charged silence she suspected only then felt.
Marion lifted her cup first, her excitement about the weather evident as she brought it to her lips. “Such a pleasant afternoon.”
“Aye,” Gordon said.
Ailis smiled, lifting her cup as Marion took a sip. Marion stopped, and her brows drew together after her first taste. Then she coughed softly into her hand.
Ailis widened her eyes. “Me Lady?”
Marion lowered the cup with great dignity, coughing as she pressed her lips together and covered it with a hand. “It is…” she coughed again. “It is quite strong.”
Gordon lifted his own and sipped as Ailis watched for a heartbeat.
The moment the tea passed his lips, he groaned and spat it right back in the cup. The sound of the cup striking the table was sharp enough to make Ailis jump.
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh! Is it that bad?” Her eyes widened from the horror as she tasted the tea herself then groaned. “Heavens.”
Gordon stared at the tea then at her, his features softening and his lips lifting in a slight mocking tilt.
Ailis looked aghast. “I apologize,” she said. “What have I done?”
Marion was still coughing softly though the corners of her eyes had begun to crease with amusement.
“Nothin’, me dear,” she said. “It is quite all right. It happens to everyone at least once in their life.”
Gordon’s gaze remained fixed on Ailis. “Nay doubt.”
Ailis blinked. “I beg yer pardon?”
“Perhaps ye simply daenae ken how to brew tea?”
Marion quaked with a little laughter as Ailis burned from her embarrassment now.
“I daenae think yers will be any better if ye were to give it a try,” she fired back at him, her lips finding a small pout as his eyes danced on hers with a glimmer she had never seen on him before.
Gordon rose to his feet as he shook his head. “Believe it or nay, Ma’am, I am a man of many talents.”
“Then we shall wager on it one day,” she said to him without thinking. The meaning of the words struck her only after it had landed between them.
Gordon’s eyes hardened for a bit as the implication settled in. Neither of them looked away from each other as the moment stretched again.
One day? That is me sayin’ I intend to be here?
Nay… Nay…
Her plan was simple. In fourteen days, she would find a way to make him call off their engagement.
That was final!
Gordon could not forget her lips. The harder he tried, the more impossible it became. It was as if his mind had completely forgotten what it was like to focus.
All I think of is that kiss.
And that was the truth he had been fighting since the morning he had left the stables.
The memory of it returned whenever his guard slipped. Her mouth beneath his. The soft gasp that had escaped her. Her fingers twisted in his leine, holding him even as every sensible instinct should have driven her away.
He had tasted the faint sweetness of her tea that morning, and the memory of it made him melt inside.
He hated that. He hated even more that some part of him wanted to know what she would taste like if he kissed her without anger between them.
Enough.
He tightened his grip on the reins. The mare beneath him shifted as they rode along the western boundary, but Gordon barely noticed.
He had spent the morning with Malcolm and six men repairing a section of fence damaged by the storms. They had gathered timber, checked supplies, inspected the patrol paths, and counted every sack of grain that would need to be replaced before winter.
Those things made sense.
Me fields… me men…
A wife did not make sense. Ailis did not.
Gordon dismounted beside the broken fence and drove the butt of his staff into the earth.
“Three more posts there,” he ordered.
Malcolm followed his gesture. “Aye.”
“And send two men to the lower burn before dusk.”
“Aye,” Malcolm answered again.
Gordon looked across the fields. His people worked hard. Too hard, at times, for too little. He had seen the thin stores. He knew which families needed extra grain and which roofs would not survive another hard rain.