I liked the kiss—I cannae deny that, but what’s the point of lettin’ me heart wander where it doesnae belong?
Marcus was the laird of the castle, and she was just a healer.
Once Leon’s better, I’ll return to the village where I belong. I daenae belong at the side of a laird, and he will never see me as his equal to be his wife. Men of his station marry high, nae low.
Struggling to allow those thoughts to lead her heart, Annabeth attempted to keep her distance. However, Marcus was impossible to ignore. His voice carried through the castle halls, commanding and deep, and every time she heard it, her heart betrayed her. She caught glimpses of him now and then—once, standing in the courtyard with his men, his presence as magnetic as ever. Her eyes lingered too long before she forced herself to look away.
It doesn’t matter how much ye admire him. There’s no future for a laird and a healer.
Annabeth poured her energy into her work, focusing on preparing salves and tinctures to keep herself occupied. The scents of lavender and chamomile filled the room, providingher with a sense of calm she desperately needed. She worked tirelessly, hoping the steady routine would quiet her racing mind. But no matter how hard she tried, Marcus’ gaze and the memory of his kiss lingered. She couldn’t help but wonder if he thought about it as much as she did.
She made excuses to stay in the room, even skipping meals in the great hall to keep her distance. A knock at the apothecary door startled her, and Annabeth’s pulse quickened in response. Her immediate thought was of Marcus, and for a moment, she froze in place. But as the door opened, it was only Elena who stepped inside, her expression curious and amused.
“Ye’ve been hidin’ yerself for days now,” Elena said, crossing her arms with a playful smirk.
Annabeth flushed and busied herself with a bundle of herbs, avoiding Elena’s gaze. “I’m nae hidin’,” she said, her voice coming out firmer than she intended. She sighed, softening her tone as she added, “I’ve just been busy with me work, making the tincture for Leon and lots of patients; that’s all.”
But Elena tilted her head, unconvinced by the answer. Annabeth felt her cheeks warm as her fingers fumbled with the herbs, her thoughts too tangled to explain further.
“The Laird, has sent for ye, lass,” Elena said.
“Oh, let me fetch me bag. Does Lady Elizabeth want me to?—”
“Nay, Annabeth. ’Tis the Laird, Marcus, that asks for yer presence in his meetin’ chamber, nae Leon,” Elena said cutting her off.
Annabeth turned with wide eyes.
What does he want? I am not ready to see him.
“Did he say what this was about?” Annabeth asked.
“Nay, Mistress, but he is in a black mood.”
Annabeth gathered her items and made her way through the castle to Marcus’ door. She took a deep breath and knocked.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Marcus stood by the hearth, arms crossed, watching Annabeth as she entered. He cleared his throat, and when she turned to face him, he motioned toward the empty chair near the fire.
“Sit down, lass,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of tension. “I’ve something I need to discuss with ye.”
She hesitated for only a moment before nodding and taking the seat, her hands folding neatly in her lap as she looked up at him expectantly.
“I’ll be ridin’ to Galton tomorrow,” Marcus began, his eyes fixed on hers. “There’s been word that the villagers are in need of a healer, and I thought ye might accompany me.”
He paused, searching her face for a reaction, but she only nodded, her expression calm and composed. The ease withwhich she sat there caught him off guard though he didn’t let it show.
Did the kiss mean nothing to her? Even now I desire her. I cannae restrain meself.
Marcus stepped away from her, turning his back to her as the blood rushed to his staff, making him hard just by looking at her. He forced himself to stay the course.
“It’ll be a few days’ journey, so pack what ye’ll need,” he added, his tone quieter, his gaze lingering on her just a moment too long.
Annabeth inclined her head, her voice light as she replied, “Of course, Laird. It is me duty to go where I’m needed.”
There wasn’t a flicker of hesitation in her demeanor, and Marcus found himself both relieved and frustrated by her composure. Did she not feel the weight of the unspoken tension between them? Her casual acceptance only deepened the ache in his chest, the memory of their kiss still fresh and unrelenting.
How could she act as though it had meant nothing at all as I stand here willing me manhood to stand down?
