“I daenae ken. They didnae wear clan colors. I suspect they were raiders or bandits.” The thought of the faceless attackers gnawed at him, but he had more pressing matters to address.
She looked astonished, her mouth falling open slightly.
“Raiders or bandits? And ye were gone so long?” Elizabeth’s eyes searched his face as if trying to find the answers hidden there.
Marcus felt a pang of guilt, knowing that his absence had caused her so much worry.
“Aye, it took me longer than expected to recover. I was badly wounded, and I was taken in by a healer who helped me,” he explained, his voice quieter now as he felt the weight of the ordeal settle over him.
Elizabeth’s expression shifted from shock to concern as she absorbed his words.
“A healer?” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief.
“She’s in me quarters, waiting to tend to me wounds,” he replied, a touch of reluctance in his voice.
Her eyes widened in mortification at the thought of him being in such a state for so long without her care. “Marcus, ye should go straight away,” she said, her voice firm with maternal instinct. She reached for his arm, urging him toward the entrance of the castle. “I’ll go to the kitchens to make sure a hot bath is brought to ye and food as well. Ye need to rest and recover properly.”
Marcus watched as she turned toward the castle doors, her every movement radiating the strength and care that had always been a part of her.
“Thank ye, Maither,” Marcus murmured, deeply grateful for her unwavering care.
With a sigh, he turned away and headed to his quarters, the thought of Annabeth waiting there pulling at him more than he cared to admit.
As he walked through the castle halls, he couldn’t help but replay the events of the past few days in his mind. The ambush, the wound, the healer—Annabeth. He hadn’t expected her to affect him so deeply, but now that he had returned to the castle, he found his thoughts drifting to her, her gentle touch, and the quiet way she had cared for him. The idea of going to his chambers, facing her once again, made his heart beat faster though he had no reason for the strange stirrings inside him.
When he reached his chambers, the door was ajar, and Annabeth was waiting inside, the flickering fire casting shadows on her face. Marcus stepped inside, his thoughts still scattered. She looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a brief moment, he felt everything else fall away.
There she is, the healer. A word I ken I will use time and again to be the reason I brought her to the castle, but that is only partly the truth.
Though his body ached, he found himself grateful for her presence.
CHAPTER NINE
Annabeth concentrated on the task at hand, her hands working carefully as she cleaned and dressed Marcus’ wounds. Her mind was focused on her work, but there was no denying the man’s presence. She tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept returning, like a constant hum beneath the surface.
Marcus lay before her, his chest bare, his firm, muscular body stark against the dimly lit room. The air between them was heavy with unspoken tension, and every time she reached for a bandage or a salve, she had to remind herself to look away from his six-pack abs, the sculpted muscles of his torso that seemed to ripple with each subtle shift of his body.
It is a fact that the Laird’s presence stirs something inside me that makes me heart jump. What is this new feeling of pulsing and breathlessness that I have to restrain when I look at his body? Nay, I must stop thinking in this manner and focus on the work.
She pressed the cloth against the wound on his side, trying to keep her touch professional, but her fingertips brushed his skin more than once, sending a rush of warmth through her. His body was firm, solid beneath her hands, and despite her best efforts to remain focused, she was keenly aware of how close they were.
The tension in the room grew thicker, the silence between them stretching longer than it should have. She could feel his eyes on her, even though she refused to meet his gaze. The weight of his stare made her heart race, and the heat of the moment was almost too much to bear. She swallowed hard, pushing the stray thoughts away and focusing on the task before her.
Marcus suddenly broke the silence, his voice low and rough.
“What did ye think of Eli?” he asked, his tone unexpectedly curious.
Annabeth froze for a moment, surprised by the question. She hadn’t expected him to ask about Eli, especially not in the midst of tending to his wounds. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like ages, and saw the flicker of something—perhaps jealousy?—in his eyes. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to push down the flutter in her chest.
“He seems kind enough,” she said carefully, unsure why he would care about her thoughts on Eli.
Marcus’ expression darkened in an instant, and she felt a strange chill settle over the room. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, his jaw tightening as if he were holding something back.
“Ye think so?” he asked, his voice tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. Annabeth’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Aye, I do,” she answered though she was beginning to wonder why he seemed so upset.
The silence between them stretched for a long beat before Marcus broke it once again, this time with a question that caught her off guard.
