Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
What am I doin’?
The question had been circling Gordon’s mind since the Games began. He had no business competing or being here in the first place.
The prize was a favor from Ailis. Nothing more. And yet the thought of Kerr winning it had sat beneath Gordon’s ribs like a stone.
He stepped into the yard for the first fight.
The first warrior barely lasted a minute. Gordon disarmed him with a sharp turn of the wrist, sending the man’s practice blade skidding across the grass.
The crowd cheered for him, but Gordon heard none of it.
His gaze lifted, and he caught Ailis watching him. Their eyes met, and his chest pulled tight again.
He looked away and called for the next man for the next round of sword fighting. The second man fell. Then the third.
Gordon moved with the precision years of hard training had carved into him. Every strike was measured. Every defense came without thought. His blade turned aside each attack, his boots barely shifting over the trampled earth.
And between every bout, his eyes found Ailis. She watched him with her hands clasped before her, her eyes bright with something he could not quite read.
Stop lookin’ at her.
He could not. And he nearly dropped his sword to the ground when his opponent thrust his sword forward again.
Focus, Gordon, he chastised himself.
Kerr stepped into the ring next, and the cheering faded a little as they stared hard at each other for a moment.
Kerr smiled. “Ye look troubled, Laird MacLaren. Are ye nae confident to beat me in this final round?”
Gordon wiped a hand over his forehead. “I daenae need confidence. I ken I will win.”
Kerr cackled at that as he lifted his sword, and Gordon braced himself before Kerr thrusted forward.
Their blades met. Steel rang across the yard, and their battle began.
Kerr was good with his sword. Gordon blocked one strike then another. He drove Kerr backward until the man’s boots dug into the earth. Then Kerr changed direction and swung with precision before Gordon could respond.
The practice blade caught Gordon along the cheek. A flicker of pain tinged his cheek as the crowd gasped. Gordon touched the cut with two fingers and felt the stickiness of his own blood.
Kerr lowered his sword. “Me apologies.”
Gordon looked into his eyes. He knew the cut was not an accident. Kerr’s smile was all the proof he needed.
He moved again, but a movement caught his attention, and he saw Ailis coming toward him.
“Gordon!”
His heart lurched as he saw her rush forward.
Kerr chose that moment while he was distracted to strike again, and this time with brute force. Gordon barely blocked the blow.
The crowd erupted into harsh chaos again as they sliced through one another.
He recovered quickly but not fast enough. Kerr drove him backward, their blades still pressed as they both struggled for balance.
For one terrible moment, Gordon nearly lost the battle. His foot slipped, and Kerr’s blade came within inches of his shoulder, but Gordon twisted aside at the last instant.
Then instinct took over. He turned beneath Kerr’s guard, hooked the man’s wrist, and knocked the blade from his hand. It struck the ground, and silence followed before the yard exploded with cheers.
Gordon stood breathing hard as his gaze went immediately to Ailis.
Relief crossed her face as he saw her exhale, and a warmth stirred in Gordon’s chest before he could push it away.
The thought of winning her favor warmed him.
He hated that it did, and he knew he could not want more.
“Gordon,” Ailis began again when she neared him, but he handed his sword over to Malcolm who approached and stormed away from the yard before she got the chance to reach him.
She followed, but he didn’t slow his steps till he reached his study and pushed the door open.
“Ye are hurt,” Ailis observed, entering behind him.
“I am fine.”
“The cut is bleedin’, Gordon. Ye must see the healer.”
“It is nothin’.” His tone sounded harsh, and even though he did not mean to startle her, she flinched and drew back from him. “I am sorry,” he muttered in a shaky voice, turning to her. “I didnae mean to scare ye.”
The usual brightness in Ailis’ eyes had faltered, replaced by a quiet uncertainty as she looked at him.
“Why did ye join the Games?”
His throat tightened at the question. Gordon did not know the answer to that question. Not because he did not want to but because he could not understand the decision himself.
He never acted rashly, but today, he did. He only thought of Kerr winning Ailis’s favor, and that irritated him more than anything.
The sight of Kerr touchin’ her, kissin’ her hand.
A primitive sensation surged through him, one he could not shake off. One that made his muscles ache and his hands clench in a tight fist.
Ailis asked on another shaky breath. “Why do ye act as though ye want me one moment and as though ye cannae stand me the next?”
He said nothing still.
“It is confusin’, Gordon. Ye are toyin’ with me.”
“I am nae.” The words came rougher than intended.
“Then tell me what ye are doin’.”
He could not.
Heaven help me.
His breathing labored while he tried to gather his thoughts.
He could tell her that he was confused too. That every day she made him question things he had believed all his life. That he wanted her near him and feared wanting her even more. Instead, he looked toward the window.
“The bindin’ is soon,” he murmured, his jaw locked tight.
He felt the burn of Ailis’ gaze on his back.
“There is still time.”
“For what?”
“For ye to leave.”
The silence that followed cut deeper than any blade.
“Ye truly want me gone?”
Gordon’s heart clenched, but he said nothing still till she walked away. He could go after her, tell her he did not want her to ever leave. That he enjoyed her presence far more than he had ever anticipated. Instead, he shunned the thought and let his feet carry him toward the healer’s chamber.
Me wound needs tendin’ to.
That was what he told himself. It was better than admitting that he had no idea what else to do with a heart that seemed determined to ache whenever Ailis walked away.
The hunting parties were already gathering in the courtyard when Gordon stepped outside.
Men stood beside their horses, checking saddles and bows while laughter carried across the yard. Clan colors fluttered from the stone walls, and the morning air smelled of damp earth and horses.
Gordon’s gaze found Ailis almost at once, and he saw Kerr walking toward her. Gordon crossed the yard before he could reach her.
“I shall take Miss Ailis,” he said before Kerr got the chance. “Ye owe me a favor, Ma’am,” he added when her lips parted with her protest.
“For what?”
“The games yesterday.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That hardly deserves a favor.”
“Kerr lost, and yer favor was me prize. I am here to collect that favor. Ye will ride with me for the hunt.”
Ailis glared at him, her cheeks burning with a crimson shade that he liked, but she did not say a thing. She simply pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Ye forget, Me Laird. I donae ride.”
“I ken.”
“Then why are ye askin’? I had nay intentions of joinin’ the hunt today and…”
“I shall be beside ye the entire time,” he said, and the words sounded more like an invitation than anything else. Gordon lowered his voice. “I willnae let anythin’ happen to ye.”
She looked toward the waiting horses then back at him, her uncertainty clear in the way her blue eyes held his.
“Ye swear it?”
“I give ye me word.”
Ailis swallowed. “All right.”
She walked with him toward his horse, and before she could change her mind, Gordon placed his hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly into the saddle.
Her breath caught. “Gordon!”
He looked up at her. “Hold the reins.”
“I ken how to hold reins.”
“Then hold them.”
She glared down at him. “Ye are enjoyin’ this.”
His mouth twitched, and he caught himself before he smiled. “Perhaps a little.”
Then he mounted behind her and urged the horse forward at a slow pace. Gordon kept one hand near the reins, never allowing the mare to quicken. He watched Ailis carefully instead, his eyes trailing along the side of her face as she sat in front of him.
He could inhale the scent of wildflowers on her hair, and it drove him insane with a rush of heat that nearly made him inhale her scent deeply.
Her shoulders remained rigid as she sat in front of him. Her fingers clenched around the rein leather, and every small movement of the horse seemed to travel through her.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Ye need to calm yerself. The horses can sense yer fear,” he murmured to her, and she moved in front of him, allowing her hair to tickle his nostrils, making him draw in the breath he didn’t want to.
“I am calm,” she protested as they continued trotting forward, the rest of the hunting party spreading out into the moors with them.
“Ye are grippin’ the reins hard enough to strangle the poor beast.” She loosened her fingers a bit. Gordon chuckled. “There. That’s better.”
They rode on, and he kept watching her till he saw the tension gradually leave her shoulders.
Gordon stayed close enough to steady her if necessary, but he did not touch her hands. Not until the horse stumbled slightly over a patch of uneven ground.
Ailis’ hand jerked, and Gordon reached forward and covered it with his own.
“I’m right here,” he assured her.
He guided her fingers lower on the reins, his fingers circling over her slender ones. Ailis gasped in front of him, and warmth from her skin seeped into his colder ones. His throat tightened, and he swallowed back.
The warmth of her seemed to travel straight through his hand and settle somewhere deeper, stirring a hunger he had been trying desperately not to acknowledge. He looked down at their joined hands then back at her face.
God.
He should have let her go. Instead, his thumb moved once across her knuckles, almost without permission.
Her breath caught, and his own followed.
The small reaction sent another surge of desire through him, sharp enough to make his jaw tighten. He wanted to draw her closer. Wanted to feel more of that warmth beneath his hands. So he held her hand a moment longer than necessary, fighting the urge to pull her against him.
“Daenae fight her as she moves beneath ye. All ye need do is feel the movement,” he murmured again, and this time she drew in a shaky breath.
They continued moving through the fresh greens of the moors slowly until they reached the hunting ground.
Gordon dismounted first and turned toward her.
“Come.” He extended a hand to help her from the saddle, but she ignored his hand.
“I can get down meself.”
“I ken.” He held out his arms anyway.
Ailis hesitated before allowing him to lift her down. Her boots touched the earth, and his hands circled her waist, holding her close for one greedy second, so he felt her lush body pressed over his before he pulled away.
“Stay close.”
He tied the horse to a tree then turned and marched away, closing his eyes briefly to damn himself for wanting to keep her pressed against him for longer. They moved deeper into the hills, and Gordon knew she followed him closely while his eyes scouted for their prey.
Gordon spotted the deer first and raised one hand to stop her from moving.
He stilled himself then spoke in a soft, measured tone. “The first rule in huntin’ is total stillness and silence. Ye daenae want to spook yer prey.”
He took out his bow and arrow as he spoke then drew it in a swift move. The arrow flew across the grounds and hit the deer.
He retrieved the arrow. “Here. Ye should try.”
She took it uncertainly then looked back at him again. “I daenae ken what I am doin’.”
“I’ll show ye.” He stepped behind her, and Ailis went very still. “Hold it here.” His hand settled lightly over her elbow. “Keep yer arm steady.”
She drew in a deep breath, and he inched even closer to her, so his head stayed beside hers. Gordon tried not to stare at the beautiful curve of her nape and the way her lips quivered now that he was close to her.
“Like this?” she questioned in a shaky voice.
“Aye.”
He moved her elbow slightly, angling up so her aim improved.
“Now draw,” Gordon whispered to her.
The string pulled taut, and Ailis’ breath trembled as she released the bow string. Her shot was terrible, and the arrow did not make it far, yet her lips parted in a wide smile, and the corners of her eyes lifted with it.
For one reckless moment, the bow ceased to matter. Neither did the hunt. There was only her and the pounding of his heart desperately trying to settle.
His hand fell away from her elbow when his head started spinning. He stepped back, noticing how the sky started to darken. Then the first drop of rain struck his cheek.
“We should find shelter,” Gordon said, taking her hand before she could say anything.
He lifted the deer and dragged it back to the horse, hefting the carcass on top of the saddle and tying it down securely.
Together they led the horse to a nearby pavilion where he usually liked to rest whenever he went riding in the moors.
Nearby, he tied their horse under the shelter of an oak tree, removed the deer, and untacked horse.
Finally, he dragged the carcass away from the horse and tied it to another tree to keep it away from predators who might enjoy an easy meal.
Rain began falling in earnest as he finished his work then they hurried towards the pavilion, and neither of them noticed how tightly their hands were joined until they reached shelter.