Eli chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye. “Oh, I ken the lass will be leavin’, but ye cannae tell me ye’re nae enjoyin’ the distraction. She’s good for ye—keeps yer mind off the dark thoughts that usually cloud yer head.”
Marcus stiffened, his brow furrowing. “I told ye, enough with the teasin’,” he growled. “We’ve more important matters to worry about, like who’s tryin’ to ruin the clan, and I willnae be distracted.”
Eli shrugged, still grinning. “Aye, sure ye willnae, but ye cannae deny there’s somethin’ there, Marcus. The lass is good for ye, even if ye daenae want to admit it.”
Marcus turned away, his hands clenching at his sides. “I’ve told ye already,” he muttered, voice low, “she’s leavin’ soon, and the sooner she does, the better.”
As he paced across the room, a knot tightened in his chest, and his mind raced.
I daenae want her to leave. I desire her in a way I’ve never felt before, and it’s eatin’ at me.
His hunger for Annabeth burned deep within him, a fierce craving he could not ignore.
I want her more than I’ve wanted anythin’ in my life. But this… this isnae somethin’ I can have. I cannae let it control me.
With a heavy sigh, Marcus turned back to face Eli, his annoyance still simmering. “Enough, Eli,” he muttered, his tone colder. “We’ve got a clan to protect, and yer games are not helpin’.”
A servant, Robert, entered the room, his face tense. “Laird. I come with a message. Laird McArthur is at the gates with some guards. He asks for permission to enter.”
Marcus and Eli exchanged shocked glances, both surprised by the unexpected visit. “McArthur?” Eli said, eyebrows raised indisbelief. “That’s the last person I’d expect to see here. What do ye think this means?”
Marcus leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the wooden armrest. “I cannae say for certain,” he muttered, his mind working quickly, “but I’ll give the Laird the benefit of the doubt. There was a time when I made the same visit to a rival clan’s doorstep, lookin’ for a way to make peace.”
Eli frowned, still suspicious. “Aye, but this could be a trick. A man like McArthur doesnae come to the door without reason. Ye think he’s got somethin’ planned?”
Marcus stood up, his jaw clenched. “I’ll nae assume the worst yet,” he said, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “I’ve known him for years, and while his methods may be questionable at times, he’s nay fool.”
Eli’s gaze sharpened. “Then ye think he’s here in peace?” he asked, his voice doubtful. “Or is he here to stir trouble in the middle of all that’s happenin'?”
Marcus turned to Robert, his orders firm. “Summon four guards to the great hall, Robert. We’ll need protection just in case.” He nodded, adding, “And lead McArthur and his men there—let’s nae leave anythin’ to chance.”
The tension in the room thickened as Robert hurried off to do Marcus’ bidding. Eli watched Marcus, his concern still evident. “Ye sure about this, Marcus? What if McArthur’s up to somethin’ more than just comin’ for a chat?”
Marcus took a deep breath, the weight of the moment settling over him. “I hope for peace, Eli, but I’ll nae be caught off guard. Let’s see what McArthur has to say before we make any rash moves.”
Marcus and Eli checked their dirks, ensuring they were securely fastened to their belts. The weight of the blades felt reassuring, a silent reminder that they were prepared for anything.
“Ye ready, Eli?” Marcus muttered, his eyes narrowing.
“Aye, Laird,” Eli replied with a grunt, adjusting his own weapon.
The two men walked through Marcus’ chambers and into the stone corridors of the castle. The air was thick with tension, each step echoing off the cold walls. As they neared the great hall, a voice called out to them, stopping them in their tracks. It was Lady Elizabeth, standing in the hallway with a look of concern on her face.
“Where are ye off to in such a hurry?” Lady Elizabeth asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and worry. She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes flicking between Marcus and Eli. “Something’s afoot, isnae it?”
Marcus glanced at Eli then turned to Lady Elizabeth, his face grim. “Aye, ye’re right,” he said. “Laird McArthur has called upon us, and he’s being led to the hall as we speak. We daenae ken what he wants yet, but it could be trouble.”
Lady Elizabeth’s brow furrowed, and her voice became more insistent. “Trouble or nay, I’m nae stayin’ behind. If McArthur’s come to our doorstep, I’ll be there to hear what he has to say.” She stepped forward, clearly set on joining them.
Marcus shook his head, a hint of frustration in his voice. “Nay, it’s too dangerous, Maither,” he said firmly. “This could be a trick or worse—ye must stay here, out of harm’s way.”
But Lady Elizabeth was already moving, her footsteps quick and purposeful. “I’ll nae sit idly by while ye face whatever danger’s comin’.” Her words were resolute, and there was no convincing her otherwise.
Marcus sighed, knowing full well that there was no changing her mind. “Damn ye, woman,” he muttered under his breath, but he followed her anyway. “Stubborn women will be the death of me.”
Together, the three of them walked toward the great hall, the weight of the unknown hanging over them all. Marcus kept his eyes on Lady Elizabeth, unsure whether her defiance would lead them into trouble or keep them all safer than he’d realized with her calm demeanor and his hot temper.
Marcus, Eli, and Lady Elizabeth stepped into the great hall, the heavy oak doors groaning behind them. The fire in the hearth flickered, casting long shadows across the stone floor where four of their guards stood, ready for any sudden move. Across the room, Laird McArthur, Anthony, stood tall with his own guards flanking him, the tension between their clans apparent. The airwas thick with unspoken words as both sides exchanged nods of recognition though the underlying mistrust was evident.
