For several moments, Marcus kissed her with a fierce intensity, his hand still holding hers, pressing her against him. Annabeth’s mind raced, torn between her anger and the strange, undeniable pull she felt toward him.
I should push him away; I should remind him of boundaries. But why do me hands ache to caress instead of push?
Her hand, still in his, moved slowly up his chest, unsure if she was trying to pull away or draw closer.
His lips were soft but insistent, and she found herself responding, her body betraying her thoughts.
I must stop this. Why cannae I break free? Could it be that I want more? He feels good, hard, and strong beneath me fingertips that have taken a mind of their own, touching his warm skin. The warrior that he is has unleashed a hunger in me. I cannae stop touching him. Kiss me harder, Me Laird.
The moment was shattered by the sharp knock of the door, that made them part, followed by the creak of it swinging open. A servant entered, looking flustered, his eyes darting between Marcus and Annabeth.
“Laird McArthur has attacked another village,” he said breathlessly, barely sparing a glance at the two of them. “The news is urgent—he’s been seen moving south, and the villagers are in panic. The scouts have confirmed.” Marcus’ expression darkened, his face hardening with the weight of the news.
Annabeth’s heart raced, and she immediately stepped across the room away from Marcus, her mind racing to find something to say. The reality of the situation hit her like a slap—she had been so consumed by the moment that she’d forgotten the larger world they inhabited. She wasn’t sure what she had expected but certainly not this.
What do I do? What do I say? I have lost all sense of meself. I am embarrassed by me behavior.
She looked up, locking eyes with Marcus as his shoulders heaved up and down, still breathless from the encounter. She saw a darkness in his eyes that she could only assume was passionate impatience and a hunger for more.
“I—” she started, her voice tight, “I must take me leave.” Her face burned with a flush of embarrassment, and without waiting for his response, she turned quickly and fled the room.
Her footsteps echoed down the stone hall, each one a reminder of how foolish she felt.
What had I been thinking?
The kiss—his touch—it had all felt so right in that instant, but now, everything felt misplaced. Her heart still pounded from the rush of emotions, but now, it was mingled with mortification. She hadn’t meant to allow herself to become so swept up in him and in the heat between them. Yet somehow, that moment of vulnerability had broken something inside her, something she wasn’t ready to confront.
She leaned against the cold stone of the castle wall and closed her eyes, replaying the kiss in her head. His strong hands on her. She felt that strange sensation in the pit of her stomach, but this time it moved down further and further to an awakening between her thighs. Her eyes opened in shock.
“Are ye alright, miss?” a soft voice asked.
Annabeth turned to see a servant girl carrying a bucket of water and dirty rags. The look of concern made Annabeth realize that she was breathing heavily and using the wall to hold her up. She must look a fright.
“I’m fine. Thank ye. I just need some air. Which way to the courtyard, please?” Annabeth asked, knowing she would get lost in the maze of corridors.
“Down the stairs to the bottom. Then to yer right and straight ahead to the last door,” the servant girl replied.
“Thank ye, miss,” Annabeth said.
She could feel her face still burning as she rounded the corner and hurried down the stairs, her thoughts jumbled. She could still see the intensity in Marcus’ eyes, could still feel the warmth of his lips on hers. She pressed her fingers against her lips.
But now, it felt as if the world was turning against that moment. Laird McArthur’s attack was a reminder of how dangerous their lives truly were, how precarious it all could be. She didn’t belong in that world, didn’t belong with a man like Marcus.
She was just a healer, a simple woman from a small village. What did she know of battles, of raids, of the weight of responsibility that hung around a laird’s neck? The faster she put distance between herself and the room, the better. She couldn’t afford to let herself become entangled with him—no matter how much she might want to.
The door to the courtyard was just ahead, and Annabeth quickly made her way to it. She pushed it open, stepping outside to take a breath of fresh air.
“Breathe, Annabeth, just breathe,” she whispered to herself in ragged breath.
The cold air hit her face, clearing the dizzying fog of embarrassment. She wanted to flee, to run far away from the castle, away from Marcus, away from the storm of feelings that had so unexpectedly erupted between them.
I should leave. This cannot lead to anything good.
But just as she thought about leaving, she remembered her agreement with Marcus. He would pay off the debts and take care of Claire.
Maither. Nay, I must stay for her. I must endure whatever is to come for her.
She had no choice but to remain in the castle—she couldn’t leave now and lose her way of getting the rent debt paid as well as future rent, but there was something more. She did not want to leave him now, not with everything that was happening.
