Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Across the courtyard, Gordon kept his eyes upon Kerr.
The man had remained seated for most of the evening, speaking little as the feast carried on around him. Laughter rose from the tables, musicians played near the hearth, and people moved through the final dance in pairs.
Gordon scarcely seemed to notice any of it. His attention stayed fixed on watching every move Kerr made.
He was so engrossed in that he had barely drunk his ale.
What is Kerr up to? What does he really want? Revenge?
Laird Kerr struck Gordon as the kind of man who would not let a grudge go. The many rumors about him were true. His people and other clans feared his cruelty.
Laird Kerr was once rumored to have burned a cottage full of his own people because they refused to pay tribute to his castle during a drought. He was called the Mad Laird after that. The title did nothing to deter him.
Gordon did not know how much time passed as he pondered until Ailis laughed beside him. The sound caught him completely unprepared, and he turned.
She stood so close that their shoulders nearly touched. Her eyes were bright with whatever Sorcha had whispered to her, and a smile tugged at her lips as she watched the dancers.
Gordon’s breath caught. The warmth he had spent the entire evening trying to ignore surged through him again.
Gather yerself.
He looked away and focused on Kerr again. At least, his heart did not beat too fast when he watched the man.
Eventually, Kerr rose, and Gordon watched him turn away. His instincts fired up when he saw Kerr move toward the courtyard’s exit, and without thinking, Gordon followed.
“Stay here,” he told Malcolm.
Before Malcolm could answer, Gordon followed Kerr, his strides purposeful. He caught up with him near the outer passage.
Kerr stopped in his tracks and slowly turned.
“Are ye followin’ me, Laird MacLaren?”
Gordon’s expression remained hard. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what ye are plannin’.”
A faint smile touched Kerr’s mouth as he eyed Gordon slowly, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.
“Why are ye here, Laird Kerr?”
“Ye invited me,” he answered then lifted one shoulder in a carefree shrug. “It was courteous to attend, do ye nae think? Considerin’ yer intended was once promised to me?”
“Miss Ailis wasnae promised to ye,” Gordon corrected. “Daenae think of causin’ any trouble here.”
Kerr’s smile widened. “We will see.”
Gordon watched him disappear around the corner after that.
His hand settled instinctively near his sword as the knot in his insides tightened with even more awareness now. He stood there for another long moment, contemplating following Kerr when another movement caught his eye.
This time it was Ailis walking down the halls, some guards trailing behind her at a distance. She slipped quietly through the garden doors, carrying something beneath her arm.
Gordon frowned. “What is she doin’?” he muttered to himself.
He followed her without much thought.
The night air was cool against his face as he crossed the garden.
He found her beneath an old tree, seated on the grass with her skirts gathered around her. Moonlight silvered her hair as she spread a small cloth across her lap. A paintbrush rested between her fingers.
Gordon stopped because he wanted to savor the moment. She had not noticed him, and for several moments, he simply watched.
The garden was quiet. The distant music from the hall drifted faintly through the open doors, mingling with the soft sounds of the night.
Ailis dipped her brush into a little bowl then she began to paint.
Gordon remained in the shadows. He told himself he was there because Kerr might return.
Because she ought not be alone. Because he was her protector. Because there were dangers within these walls that required his vigilance.
All sensible reasons and all true. Yet none explained why his chest eased simply at the sight of her.
She hummed softly as she worked. Moonlight caught the curve of her cheek. A strand of hair slipped loose near her temple, and she brushed it away absently before returning to her painting.
Gordon found himself watching the movement of her hand. The quiet concentration upon her face and the small smile that appeared whenever she seemed pleased with a particular stroke.
He did not move or speak. He simply stood in the darkness and watched her paint by the moonlight.
I am here to protect her.
He repeated the thought again and again, hoping it was true.
Yet some treacherous part of him knew the truth.
If protection were the only reason, he would have called for a guard. He would have returned to the courtyard and joined the bonfire dance. Instead, he stayed here, content simply to watch her exist beneath the moonlight.
Ailis found Gordon in the yard the next day, or rather, Lileas found him first.
“There!” The little girl tugged eagerly at Ailis’ hand.
Gordon stood near the training ground with Rowan and Malcolm, a sword in his hand as he worked through a series of movements with one of the younger warriors. His shirt clung to his shoulders, his red hair damp from exertion.
Ailis looked away at once. She had been doing her best to keep her distance from him.
It had become necessary, given that whenever he was near, she seemed to forget common sense, including how to breathe.
After the other day at the pavilion, after all those stolen glances and moments when his eyes seemed to linger too long, she had decided that the safest thing was to stop giving him opportunities to confuse her.
Lileas, however, had other ideas. She carried a tiny yellow flower in both hands and headed straight for Gordon before Ailis could stop her.
Gordon was focused on his training with Malcolm and his brother, and he handled them both with ease, spinning his sword with skill and dodging every blow from them.
They paused to rest for a bit, and Ailis crouched in front of Lileas, who was holding some wildflowers and grinning at her.
“For the Laird.”
Ailis smiled. “Then ye must give it to him,” she said while ruffling Lileas’ hair.
“I want ye to come with me.”
Ailis sighed. “Very well.”
They crossed the yard together, and Gordon noticed them almost immediately.
His sword lowered as he turned to them. His labored breathing made his chest rise and fall slowly, and Ailis’ gaze dropped to the sinewy muscles ripping over his exposed arms. Sweat glistened on his body, and her cheeks burned just from looking at him like that.
Ailis kept her gaze upon Lileas until they reached him.
“Me Laird,” the little girl announced.
Gordon crouched in front of her immediately, like nothing else deserved his attention. “What have ye got there?”
“A flower.”
“I can see that.”
Lileas held it out. “For ye.”
His face softened, or maybe, he feigned shock. “For me?”
Lileas nodded solemnly. “Aye.”
Gordon accepted it carefully between his fingers. “Thank ye, wee one.”
Ailis smiled. She could not help it. When she finally looked up, she found Gordon watching her. Their eyes met, and her heart gave a small, foolish stumble.
She looked away quickly, and Rowan cleared his throat. Gordon glanced at his brother, and Rowan’s expression tightened as he nudged Gordon in the side, as if trying to pass a message.
Gordon sighed and glanced at Ailis again. He cleared his throat, and she saw his ears redden a bit before he asked, “How are ye findin’ the preparations?”
Ailis looked at him. “They are… all right.”
“All right?”
“Aye.”
Rowan nudged him again, and this time Gordon cleared his throat even more harshly. “If ye require aught, ye have but to ask.”
She hesitated. “Actually… there is one thing.”
Gordon waited for her to say more.
“I should like to redecorate the entire keep.”
He blinked, the color draining from his face almost immediately. She almost laughed at the look he had on, but she held back.
His mouth opened then closed. His brow arched then when Rowan coughed this time, he found his voice quickly. “The entire keep?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“Aye,” Ailis answered. “If ye will permit it of course?”
“Aye.” His voice was resigned. “Do it to yer pleasin’.”
Her smile broke free. “Thank ye, Me Laird.”
She dipped into a little curtsy before taking Lileas’s hand. “Come Lileas.”
They walked away, and Ailis waited until they were well beyond earshot before allowing herself to grin.
He has nay notion what he has agreed to.
But this was not simply about flowers and colorful cloth. She wanted warmth in these stone walls and laughter. She wanted the keep to feel lived in. And most of all, she wanted Gordon to have something of his own past around him.
His paintings.
The ones he had hidden away.
She would put them somewhere he could see them.
She would speak to Marion, too. Perhaps there were things belonging to his mother tucked away somewhere. A ribbon or piece of embroidery. A trinket or anything that might remind him of the woman he barely remembered.
Ailis glanced down at Lileas. “Will ye help me?”
Lileas nodded enthusiastically. “Aye!”
“Good.”
They rounded the corner and found Jane carrying folded linens.
“Jane!”
The maid stopped. “Me Lady… did ye need somethin’?”
Ailis’ eyes sparkled. “I have the Laird’s approval.”
Jane blinked. “For what?”
Ailis spread her arms toward the keep. “We are redecoratin’ the entire castle.”
Jane stared. “The entire castle?”
“Aye, Jane.”
Lileas clapped, her own excitement evident.
Ailis laughed. “Hurry up. There is much to be done.”
Jane’s mouth slowly curved. “I suspect the Laird shall regret givin’ ye permission.”
Ailis smiled sweetly. “I suspect he shall.”
And with that, she marched toward the keep, already planning where every tapestry, painting, flower, and memory would go.