He hesitated, unsure of what exactly to say, and then just as he opened his mouth, a knock came at the door.
“Laird,” Murray’s voice called from the other side, “yer horse is ready and waiting.”
With a sigh, after a lingering glance at Annabeth, Marcus turned to the door. There was something unspoken in the air between them, something he couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to leave behind. Without another word, he made his way toward the door.
As he stepped into the doorway, he stole a final look at Annabeth, but the words he had almost spoken remained locked inside him. He was already gone before he could fully understand the strange pull he felt toward her.
Should I say more to the lass? Am I making a mistake?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Annabeth stood at the hearth, her thoughts a tangled mess as she gazed into the fire. She should’ve said something more to Marcus, shouldn’t she have? After all he’d done for her, how kind he’d been—how different from the stories she had heard about him. She had never imagined Marcus Reid, Laird MacLennan, would be like that.
He had shown nothing but gratitude and gentleness toward her, despite his moody nature, position, and his reputation. His refusal to listen to her care orders still bothered her, but she knew it came from a place of stubborn pride, not malice. Her mind drifted.
There was something about the way he looked at me, something that made me heart flutter in the strangest way. Me stomach dropped as new feelings I never felt before had awakened in me. I felt drawn to him, yet I had kept distance, unsure of how to react. He’s the Laird, and I but a simple village girl.
Annabeth couldn’t shake the ache of unspoken things hanging in the air. Was it foolish to yearn for more, to wonder if perhaps there was something between them, something deeper than just a healer tending to a wounded man? She had done her duty.
But that look in his eyes—was it more than just gratitude? Did I see a flicker of interest?
The door suddenly creaked, pulling Annabeth from her thoughts. She blinked, startled, and turned to see a figure standing in the doorway. She froze, her heart leaping in her chest as the face she had just been thinking about appeared before her. Marcus stood there, tall and strong, looking more commanding than ever. The sight of him took her breath away for a moment, and she couldn’t find the words to say.
“Annabeth,” Marcus said, his voice low and careful, “I... cannae leave like this.”
Annabeth stood there, stunned and unsure of what to say. Her heart raced in her chest, and her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, all jumbled together.
Is this a mistake? Or is it fate?
“What is it?” she managed to say, her voice softer than she intended. “What is it ye need from me?”
Annabeth’s pulse quickened, her chest tightening with a mixture of surprise and something deeper. She felt the warmth of theroom fade away as the air between them seemed to thicken. She wanted to say something, but her voice faltered as her heart raced.
Marcus stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed on Annabeth with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
“Ye’re comin’ with me,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering. “To the castle.”
Annabeth crossed her arms and took a step back, her brow furrowing in defiance.
“I’ll do nay such thing,” she replied, her voice steady though a flicker of frustration flashed in her eyes. “Me duty is here, to the villagers.”
Marcus’ jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. “Ye daenae get a choice in the matter. I’m yer Laird, and ye’ll do as I say.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, his presence overwhelming.
Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, the heat of his proximity not lost on her. “Me Laird, ye say?” she muttered. “That doesnae mean I’m at yer beck and call. I’m nay one’s servant.”
Marcus leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low tone. “Oh, ye may nae be me servant, but ye are me subject.”
Annabeth tilted her head, her hands placed firmly on her hips as she put her chin in the air.
“Is that so?” She stepped closer, her gaze locking with his. “And what happens when ye daenae get yer way, Me Laird? Will ye have me dragged away like some wayward child?” She fought to keep from trembling. She was going up against a powerful man, her curt tongue getting her in trouble again, but she was not able to stop it.
Marcus’ brow furrowed in his stern demeanor.
“Ye make it hard to give ye orders as is me right, lass” he said. “Ye’ve a stubborn streak, daenae ye? Just like me.”
Annabeth raised an eyebrow, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Aye, maybe I do. And that means I’ll nae let ye order me about.” She crossed her arms again, standing her ground. “I’m stayin’ here. And that’s final.”
