“Struan,” Marcus said, his brow furrowing as the memory of the fight replayed in his mind. “He spoke of ye, faither, and some sort of revenge. What’s all this about?” He looked from his father to his mother, the confusion mounting in his chest. When they exchanged a quick, silent glance, he felt a knot tighten in his gut.
“What happened, faither?” Marcus demanded, his voice firm. He needed answers, and the unease in his chest only grew as he waited for Leon to speak.
Leon sighed, the weight of years old memories resurfacing in his eyes. “Aye, lad, it’s a long tale,” he began slowly, “but Struan’s hatred began many years ago. When he was thirty-five, he met yer maither at a gatherin’ of the clans. He was taken by her beauty, completely entranced.” Leon paused, glancing at Elizabeth, who had gone still beside him.
“Struan, being the man he was, went straight to her faither, askin’ for her hand in marriage.” Leon’s voice grew colder. “But her faither, he turned him away. Told him she was already promised to me. The fool pretended to understand, but deep down, he was furious.”
Marcus sat up slightly, wincing at the pain, but his curiosity was now fully piqued. “He was angry that he couldnae have her?” he asked.
“Aye,” Leon confirmed. “Struan had always gotten what he wanted in life, and when yer maither’s faither turned him away, he couldnae stand it. His pride couldnae bear it, so he soughtrevenge. Decided he’d make me, and me clan, pay for what he wanted.”
Elizabeth looked shocked, her eyes wide in disbelief. “All this time… after so many years, Struan still holds this grudge?” she asked softly. Her voice shook, a mixture of hurt and confusion evident in her gaze.
“There’s nay one more stubborn than a Scot with a grudge, Elizabeth,” Leon replied with a wry smile though his tone was grave. “He thought to make trouble, but I had too much influence, too many allies in the other clans, for him to ever succeed.” He leaned forward slightly, looking directly at Marcus. “So, he bided his time, waitin’ for the right moment.”
Marcus’ brow furrowed deeper, and he felt his jaw tighten. “If he still holds this grudge, he will continue to cause us trouble.”
“Aye, lad,” Leon said, his tone firm. “Struan may have been quiet for a while, but the anger never fades. If he’s still got that fire in him, it could be more trouble yet.”
Marcus turned his gaze to Elizabeth, who nodded solemnly. “Aye,” she agreed, her voice quiet. “We must be ready for whatever he may do.”
The room fell silent for a moment, each of them lost in thought, the tension from Struan’s threat settling in their minds. They had no idea what Struan would do next, but Marcus felt a deep sense of unease. He knew that the past, no matter how long buried, always had a way of resurfacing, bringing with it all theold anger and resentment. And with it, Struan’s vengeance was bound to be a problem they couldn’t ignore.
Marcus sat up in bed, the weight of the conversation heavy on his shoulders. His father and mother, their faces lined with concern, watched him closely. He took a deep breath before speaking, his voice steady but filled with conviction.
“Love causes wars, that much I’ve learned,” he said, his gaze steady on them both. “Struan is proof of that; his heart twisted with rage over love he could nae have.”
His mother, Elizabeth, looked at him sharply, her brow furrowed with concern. “What are ye sayin’, Marcus?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry. “Ye think love’s worth the cost of a clan’s future? Ye want to throw away yer duty for a woman?”
Marcus met her gaze, unflinching. “Aye, I do,” he said firmly. “I’ll follow me heart, and it tells me Annabeth is the woman I want to marry.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Marcus raised a hand, his expression softening. “I ken what ye’ll say, Maither,” he added. “Annabeth is a fine woman, a healer who’s shown great skill. But she’s a villager, nae one of our own, and she cannae strengthen the clan like a woman from the McArthurs’ could.”
Elizabeth’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Ye speak logic, Marcus, and logic says ye must marry for the good of the clan, for an alliance that’ll make us stronger.” Her voice was soft butinsistent, trying to make him see reason. “Perhaps a woman from another clan would be the bond we need to secure our future.”
Marcus took a deep breath, his chest heavy with the weight of his heart’s desires. “Maither,” he said with a firm tone, “the heart’s nae governed by logic, and mine tells me that Annabeth is the one I’m meant to marry.” He paused, letting his words settle. “I want her, and I will have her.”
Leon, his father, watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he nodded slowly, his voice deep and thoughtful. “A strong heir is what matters most, and if Annabeth is the woman ye love, then ye should marry her.” He stood and placed a hand on ’Marcus’ shoulder. “I support ye, son. Do what ye must, but do it with strength.”
Elizabeth sighed, “I shall accept her as yer wife if that is yer will, son.”
“’Tis, Maither, and I would have done it with or without yer blessin’ .”
Later that day, Marcus lay in wait, his heart beating faster as he waited for Annabeth. He could hear her footsteps echoing down the hallway, and his pulse quickened. When she entered the room, her eyes widened in shock as she saw him awake and sitting up.
“Marcus! Ye’re awake!” she exclaimed, rushing to his side, her hands immediately going to check his bandage.
Marcus smiled at her, a warmth spreading through him. He grabbed her gently by the waist and pulled her close, hugging her tight.
“Annabeth,” he whispered, his voice full of urgency, “will ye marry me?” Annabeth froze in his arms, her body stiffening as shock registered on her face.
“Marcus, I...” she started, her voice trembling slightly. “I daenae think I can do that.”
Marcus pulled back slightly, confusion clouding his brow. “What do ye mean?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “Why would ye nae marry me?”
Annabeth looked down, her fingers twisting nervously. “There’s two reasons,” she said quietly, her voice laced with hesitation. “First, I cannae give up being a healer. It’s who I am.”
’Marcus’ expression softened, and he gently cupped her face with his hand. “Ye willnae have to give it up,” he said, his voice reassuring. “The castle needs a healer, Annabeth. Nay one will force ye into givin up what ye love.” He paused, his gaze locked on hers. “Ye can still heal, still do what ye do best, and be with me.”
