Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Annabeth stood at the hearth, her thoughts a tangled mess as she gazed into the fire.
She should’ve said something more to Marcus, shouldn’t she have?
After all he’d done for her, how kind he’d been—how different from the stories she had heard about him.
She had never imagined Marcus Reid, Laird MacLennan, would be like that.
He had shown nothing but gratitude and gentleness toward her, despite his moody nature, position, and his reputation. His refusal to listen to her care orders still bothered her, but she knew it came from a place of stubborn pride, not malice. Her mind drifted.
There was something about the way he looked at me, something that made me heart flutter in the strangest way.
Me stomach dropped as new feelings I never felt before had awakened in me.
I felt drawn to him, yet I had kept distance, unsure of how to react.
He’s the Laird, and I but a simple village girl.
Annabeth couldn’t shake the ache of unspoken things hanging in the air. Was it foolish to yearn for more, to wonder if perhaps there was something between them, something deeper than just a healer tending to a wounded man? She had done her duty.
But that look in his eyes—was it more than just gratitude? Did I see a flicker of interest?
The door suddenly creaked, pulling Annabeth from her thoughts.
She blinked, startled, and turned to see a figure standing in the doorway.
She froze, her heart leaping in her chest as the face she had just been thinking about appeared before her.
Marcus stood there, tall and strong, looking more commanding than ever.
The sight of him took her breath away for a moment, and she couldn’t find the words to say.
“Annabeth,” Marcus said, his voice low and careful, “I... cannae leave like this.”
Annabeth stood there, stunned and unsure of what to say. Her heart raced in her chest, and her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, all jumbled together.
Is this a mistake? Or is it fate?
“What is it?” she managed to say, her voice softer than she intended. “What is it ye need from me?”
Annabeth’s pulse quickened, her chest tightening with a mixture of surprise and something deeper. She felt the warmth of the room fade away as the air between them seemed to thicken. She wanted to say something, but her voice faltered as her heart raced.
Marcus stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed on Annabeth with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
“Ye’re comin’ with me,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering. “To the castle.”
Annabeth crossed her arms and took a step back, her brow furrowing in defiance.
“I’ll do nay such thing,” she replied, her voice steady though a flicker of frustration flashed in her eyes. “Me duty is here, to the villagers.”
Marcus’ jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. “Ye daenae get a choice in the matter. I’m yer Laird, and ye’ll do as I say.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, his presence overwhelming.
Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, the heat of his proximity not lost on her. “Me Laird, ye say?” she muttered. “That doesnae mean I’m at yer beck and call. I’m nay one’s servant.”
Marcus leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low tone. “Oh, ye may nae be me servant, but ye are me subject.”
Annabeth tilted her head, her hands placed firmly on her hips as she put her chin in the air.
“Is that so?” She stepped closer, her gaze locking with his.
“And what happens when ye daenae get yer way, Me Laird? Will ye have me dragged away like some wayward child?” She fought to keep from trembling.
She was going up against a powerful man, her curt tongue getting her in trouble again, but she was not able to stop it.
Marcus’ brow furrowed in his stern demeanor.
“Ye make it hard to give ye orders as is me right, lass” he said. “Ye’ve a stubborn streak, daenae ye? Just like me.”
Annabeth raised an eyebrow, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Aye, maybe I do. And that means I’ll nae let ye order me about.” She crossed her arms again, standing her ground. “I’m stayin’ here. And that’s final.”
Marcus fell silent, his expression shifting as the weight of her words seemed to press upon him. His usual commanding presence softened, and there was an unfamiliar vulnerability in his voice when he spoke again.
“I need ye to come with me, Annabeth,” he said, his tone quieter now. “To heal me faither.”
Annabeth blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in him. “Yer faither?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to process what he was saying. “What is wrong with him?” Her voice softened, concern slipping through despite her own inner reservations.
Marcus sighed, looking away briefly before meeting her eyes again.
“I daenae ken. He’s been unwell fer a while now, and nae one’s been able to help him,” he explained, his voice low, almost ashamed.
“I’ve watched ye, Annabeth, seen the way ye work.
Yer skills… they’re beyond what anyone else here has.
I need someone like ye to help him. He’s me faither. ”
Annabeth’s gaze flicked around her cottage, her heart torn between duty and the pull of something deeper. The weight of his words settled heavily in the room, and she found herself hesitating, unsure how to respond. Her mind raced, grappling with the decision.
“And in return, I’ll take care of yer debt to the landlord. I’ll pay it off, and I’ll give ye a few months’ rent in advance. Ye willanae have to worry about that anymore.”
Annabeth felt the sudden rush of emotions—gratitude, uncertainty, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She took a slow breath, trying to steady herself before responding.
“I need a moment,” she said, her voice quiet but firm as she stepped back toward the door to gather her thoughts. “Please.”
Marcus nodded, stepping back toward his horse with a quiet understanding.
Annabeth entered and moved to Claire’s side as she sat by the fire.
“Maither, the Laird offered to pay our debts if I go with him to see to his faither, who is ill. I daenae want to leave ye.”
“Ye must go if the Laird calls on ye, lass. Ye’re one of his subjects, an’ it’s yer duty.” She paused, looking at Annabeth with understanding. “I ken ye don’t want to leave me alone, but ye’ll nae be gone forever. I have Murray and Bruce next door, and they'll look after me.”
Annabeth’s gaze drifted out the window, her mind clouded with doubt.
“But... I…” she started then faltered, her thoughts tangled in a knot she couldn’t untie. Claire squeezed her hand gently, a quiet encouragement in her eyes.
“Ye’ll be fine, Annabeth,” she said, her voice warm. “The Laird may be a powerful man, but ye are strong, and ye have yer skills to offer.”
Annabeth looked down at their hands, her heart a strange mix of unease and longing. She felt something stir inside her—something she didn't fully understand.
Aye, but he’s nae like us; he’s a man of power while I’m just a village girl. What could he want with me?
Her breath caught in her chest as the thought crossed her mind, but Claire’s words brought her back to the present.
Claire leaned forward, her eyes soft yet knowing. “Annabeth, lass, ye’ve a gift. This may be yer chance to do something more than ye ever dreamed. Take the offer. Ye can always come back to me.” Her voice was full of affection and quiet wisdom.
Annabeth met Claire’s gaze, her heart torn between fear and hope. She nodded slowly, standing up with a heavy heart but a steady resolve.
“I... I will go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
As Annabeth stepped outside, the weight of her decision settled over her like a cloak. Marcus stood by his horse, waiting, the flicker of impatience in his eyes. He looked at her, his posture proud yet unspoken, as if he already knew her answer.
“I accept yer offer, if I have yer word that ye will pay the debts, and if anything shall happen to me on this journey, ye shall take care of me maither. Those are me terms,” she said.
“Ye have me word, lass,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We leave now.”
Annabeth’s heart raced, but she held herself steady.
“I’ll just go inside and pack me healing herbs,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. The moment had arrived, and with a deep breath, she turned toward the cottage, her mind spinning with thoughts of what lay ahead.
Annabeth stepped back inside the cottage, the door creaking shut behind her.
Claire was already packing a small wooden box with herbal remedies and tonics, her hands moving swiftly but with practiced care.
Annabeth walked over to the corner where her own belongings lay, pulling out a large cloth bag.
She placed a few clothing items inside, each fold deliberate, each movement laced with the heaviness of the moment.
Leaving home, ’tis too much to bear. I can feel me hands shaking and me heart breaking. I will miss home.
She paused, looking at Claire, then closed the bag and walked over to her.
Claire turned around, her face soft with understanding. Annabeth wrapped her arms around her, holding on tight, the comfort of their bond grounding her.
“Be safe, lass,” Claire whispered in her ear, her voice full of love and concern. “Ye’re strong. Just remember who ye are, nay matter where ye go.”
Annabeth pulled away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. She nodded silently, her heart aching as she turned toward the door, knowing this moment marked the start of something entirely new.
As Annabeth stepped outside, she saw Marcus waiting by his horse, his gaze trained on her with quiet expectation. He was already in motion, taking her belongings and stuffing them into the saddlebag with the ease of someone accustomed to making quick decisions.
“We’ll have to share a horse,” he said, his tone steady but blunt.