The sight of Annabeth in her nightshift stirred something deep within him, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have her in his arms. He longed to feel her close, to take control of this powerful attraction that pulled at him. His gripon his emotions tightened as he forced himself to push those thoughts away, knowing they were forbidden.
“I came to check on ye,” Marcus said, his voice rougher than he intended. “How are ye feelin’, lass?”
Annabeth hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m still a bit shaken,” she replied quietly, her eyes meeting his, “but I’m fine now.” Her voice was steady though there was a subtle tremor she couldn’t quite mask.
Marcus studied her for a moment, his gaze softening with concern. “Is there anything I can do to make ye feel calm?” he asked, his voice gentle but full of intent.
He wanted to take away her fear, to protect her from whatever might trouble her. But as he stood there, waiting for her response, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this moment than just reassurance.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she whispered, “Maybe some whiskey would help me sleep.”
A smile tugged at Marcus’ lips as he nodded. “Aye, I’ll have a bottle sent up to yer room.” His voice was warm, and the tension between them seemed to ease for a brief moment. He knew it wasn’t much, but it was the least he could do for her after what she’d been through.
“Thank ye, Marcus,” Annabeth said, her voice soft as she gave him a small, appreciative smile. “Goodnight.” She gave him one last glance before she slowly closed the door, the quiet click of it echoing in his ears.
Marcus stood there for a moment longer, his heart pounding in his chest, before he finally turned and made his way back down the hall, his mind still reeling from the brief exchange. As he moved, a bitter thought gnawed at him?—
This is me fault. I forced her to leave her home village. That’s why she faced danger today.
The anger burned within him as he replayed the events over and over. He had thought he was protecting her, but instead, he had dragged her into a nightmare, and it pained him more than he cared to admit. By the time Marcus reached the kitchen, his frustration had boiled over, and the tightness in his chest felt unbearable. He ordered a servant to bring a bottle of whiskey and a bowl of hot stew to Annabeth’s room. He could only focus on the idea of her being comforted, of her being cared for in some small way.
It wasn’t much, but it was the least he could do after everything that had happened. As the servant quickly hurried away, Marcus grabbed a bottle of ale from the counter, uncorking it with a frustrated grunt. He drank deeply, the cool liquid burning as it slid down his throat. For a moment, the bitterness of the ale seemed to match the bitterness inside him, and it did nothing to ease the restless tension he felt. But it did help push the thoughts of Annabeth—her anger, her distance—away for a brief time.
I should’ve never brought her here.
The more he thought about the risks he’d put her in, the worse he felt about his choices.
His eyes narrowed as he thought about the kiss.
Was it wrong of me?
The hunger he’d felt, the intensity, the need to claim her—it still burned in him, and it unsettled him. She had been so close, and he had almost let himself cross a line he hadn’t meant to.
He slammed the bottle down onto the table, the sound of it echoing in the otherwise quiet kitchen.
She probably hates me now. It’s nay wonder after all I’ve put her through.
He wanted to scream, to throw something, but instead, he took another swig of ale to drown out the anger, the guilt, and the overwhelming desire that still lingered from earlier as he made his way back to her room
He banged on the door. Annabeth answered with wide eyes.
“I demand to ken what makes ye cross with me?” His eyes darkened.
“I am nae cross with ye, Me Laird,” she replied.
“Ye push me out of these rooms with nay a word more than mere pleasantries.” His chest heaved up and down.
“Can ye only think of yerself at such a time?” she spat back.
“Nay, I can only think of ye, for ye will drive me to madness with yer reckless behavior,” he said as he took wide steps getting closer to her.
He looked down at her as she raised her chin up at him.
“Ye are a stubborn lass, strong but stubborn. Ye ken that?”
“I can say the same about ye,” she observed.
“That’s different,” he replied.
