Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“It was a silly kiss and nothing more. So why do I think of it so often?” Annabeth paced the small room, muttering to herself about foolish men and even more foolish feelings.
She sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the sprawling hills outside, but her mind was elsewhere.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel the weight of Marcus’ lips on hers and the intensity of his grip as he had pulled her close.
It unsettled her, the way it made her heart race and her breath catch, though she would never admit it.
A knock on the door startled her, and Annabeth’s hand flew to her chest as her heart leapt.
Is it he?
She opened the door to find a young servant girl standing there, a bright smile on her face. “Good mornin’, mistress,” the girl said cheerfully, dipping her head in greeting. “I’m Elena, servant to Lady Elizabeth. I’ve come to fetch ye. She’s askin’ for ye to join her in her chamber.”
Annabeth blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before nodding mutely and stepping aside to let the girl in.
Elena had a friendly air about her, and Annabeth felt an instant sense of ease in her presence.
The girl couldn’t have been much older than her, with sandy blonde hair that framed her face and striking blue eyes full of warmth.
Her slender figure and plain, well-worn dress marked her as someone who, like Annabeth, wasn’t born into wealth or privilege.
That realization comforted Annabeth, who had spent the last day feeling out of place within the grandeur of the castle.
“Thank ye for comin’ to fetch me,” Annabeth said quietly, smoothing her skirts nervously. “I’m nae exactly sure what Lady Elizabeth could want with me.”
“She’ll tell ye herself, nay doubt,” Elena replied with a knowing smile. “But there’s nay need to fret. The Lady can be stern, aye, but she’s fair, and she’s kind to those who deserve it.”
Annabeth nodded though her stomach churned with unease.
What could Marcus’ mother possibly want from her?
She followed Elena down the winding stone corridors, the soft shuffle of their footsteps echoing in the quiet.
The grandeur of the castle seemed even more overwhelming as they passed torches and woven tapestries with the clan crest, red with a proud stag.
When they reached a grand door at the end of the corridor, Elena stopped and turned to her with a reassuring smile.
“Here we are. Just take a deep breath, aye? She doesnae bite,” Elena teased, giving Annabeth a playful nudge.
Annabeth tried to smile back, but her nerves made it difficult.
She smoothed her skirts once more, her fingers trembling slightly, and nodded for Elena to proceed.
The servant knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open, stepping inside with a confident stride.
“Lady Elizabeth, Mistress Annabeth is here to see ye,” Elena announced warmly.
Annabeth hesitated on the threshold, her heart pounding as she caught sight of the imposing woman seated by the fireplace.
Lady Elizabeth was elegant and regal, her posture straight and her gaze sharp though there was a softness around her eyes that hinted at a kinder side.
Her hair was swept up neatly, streaked with silver that only added to her commanding presence.
Annabeth felt like a child standing before her, but she forced herself to step inside, offering a nervous curtsy.
“Come in, lass,” Lady Elizabeth said, her voice steady and calm. “I’ve been wantin’ to speak with ye.”
Annabeth swallowed hard and straightened, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. “Aye, Me Lady,” she managed to reply, her voice barely above a whisper.
She felt Elena’s reassuring presence behind her, but it did little to calm her nerves.
What could the Lady want with me? Whatever it is, I pray I willnae make a fool of meself in front of Marcus’ maither.
Lady Elizabeth gestured for Annabeth to take a seat near the fire, her sharp yet kind eyes studying the young woman.
“Ye must be Annabeth,” she said, her tone steady but warm. “I am Lady Elizabeth, Marcus’ maither and wife of his faither, Laird Leon. I’ve been wantin’ to meet the lass who saved me son’s life. Both me husband and I owe ye a debt of gratitude for what ye’ve done.”
Annabeth clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her heart racing as she nodded.
“Thank ye, Me Lady,” she replied softly, her voice trembling with nerves.
“But there’s nay need for thanks. I was only doin’ me duty as a healer.
Anyone would’ve done the same in me place.
It was me honor to see to his healing and to serve Me Laird and the clan. ”
Elizabeth smiled faintly, tilting her head as if to appraise Annabeth further.
“Ye’re humble, lass, and that speaks well of ye,” she said, “but daenae dismiss what ye’ve done so lightly.
Me son means the world to this family, to this clan.
Without ye, we might have lost him, and that’s nay small thing.
He is the only surviving child we have. I lost two, one before him and one after him. ”
“I'm very sorry to hear that, Me Lady.”
“One happened in childbirth and the other did nae make it beyond a year, so ye see, Marcus is a miracle and the heir,” she said.
Annabeth ducked her head, unsure how to respond, and murmured, “It was me honor, truly.”
She focused on the flickering flames in the hearth, feeling the weight of the Lady’s gratitude pressing down on her. The conversation felt heavier than anything she’d faced before, and she struggled to find the right words.
Elizabeth, sensing Annabeth’s unease, shifted the subject with a gentle smile. “But enough about Marcus, aye? I’ve heard yer skills as a healer extend far beyond him. Ye’ve been kind enough to agree to help me husband, Leon, with his condition as well. For that, I am equally thankful.”
Annabeth’s eyes widened slightly, and she straightened in her chair. “I will do what I can, of course” she replied modestly. “I’m happy to see to him whenever ye need me.”
Elizabeth nodded approvingly and leaned forward slightly. “Then if ye’ve a moment now, I’d like ye to attend to him. He’s been havin’ a difficult time of late, and yer care will be a great comfort to him.”
Annabeth stood quickly, eager to prove herself useful. “Of course, Me Lady,” she said. “I’ll just fetch me healing bag and see to him right away.”
She gave a polite nod and moved toward the door, grateful for the chance to focus on her work rather than the conversation that had left her feeling so exposed.
A few moments later, Annabeth knelt beside Leon’s bed, her healing bag open beside her.
She placed her fingers on his wrist, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his pulse.
Her brow furrowed as she took in his shallow breathing and pale, clammy skin.
“Ye’ve been feelin’ weak, aye?” she asked softly, her voice low so as not to disturb the quiet room.
“Aye, lass,” Leon murmured, his voice faint and strained. “Weak... and me chest feels tight.”
Annabeth nodded, leaning closer as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. The faint warmth of a low fever confirmed her suspicions. “And the pain,” she continued, her tone gentle but focused, “does it stay in yer chest, or does it spread to yer arms or back?”
Leon grimaced, shifting slightly under her touch.
“It spreads to me arms and me legs—’tis why I stay confined in the bed most days,” he admitted, his words slow and deliberate.
“Feels like a heavy weight on me chest when it comes. I ken I’m done for.
I can feel it in me bones, but if I can have the strength to walk the castle a few times a week, then that would be a blessing. ”
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she pieced his symptoms together.
She pulled back, reaching into her bag to retrieve a small vial of tincture.
“The symptoms ye’re describin’... they point to somethin’ called failures of the heart,” she said carefully.
“It’s yer heart, Laird MacLennan. The pain and weakness come from within, and though I can ease it, I cannae cure it if that be what it is. ”
Leon’s eyes sharpened despite his weariness. “It’s me heart, ye say?” he repeated, his tone carrying a weight of understanding. “And there’s naythin’ to be done?”
“Nay cure, but I can help ye manage it,” Annabeth said, meeting his gaze steadily.
She lifted another vial, pouring a few drops into a small cup of water.
“This will ease the tightness in yer chest and help yer blood flow better. Ye’ll need rest and to avoid strainin’ yerself fer some time in the beginning.
But if we can help yer heart manage, then ye shall have the strength to walk about more.
This means nay heavy drink as it makes the heart slow.
I will make a list of items to consume for the cook that will help ye. ”
Leon chuckled weakly, the sound hollow. “Avoid straining,” he muttered. “That’s a fine joke, lass, when I’ve got the heart of a stubborn Scot.”
Annabeth softened her tone though her expression remained firm. “If ye want to stay strong, ye’ll need to listen to what I’m tellin’ ye. Overworkin’ yerself will only make things worse.”
Leon studied her for a moment then sighed heavily. “I’ve lived long enough to ken when a fight cannae be won,” he said quietly.
Her chest tightened at his resignation, but she steadied herself.
“Then let me help ye make the time ye’ve left as comfortable as it can be,” she said firmly.
“I’ll do what I can to ease yer pain and keep ye strong for as long as possible, and if ye follow me orders, then it may keep ye with us for a long time. ”
Leon’s lips curled into a faint smile though it didn’t reach his tired eyes. “Ye’re a kind soul, lass,” he said. “More than I deserve, I think.”
Annabeth shook her head as she helped steady the cup in his hand. “Kindness has naythin’ to do with what’s deserved, Laird MacLennan. It’s me duty, and I’ll see it through.”
She stood and began packing her bag, her movements quiet and efficient. “I’ll check on ye later,” she promised. “If ye need me before then, send word, and I’ll come right away, but that tincture will take some time to work.”
Leon’s gaze drifted toward her, his expression pensive. “Thank ye, Annabeth,” he said softly.
Without another word, she slipped from the room, her mind heavy with the truth of his condition and the weight of her own promise to him.
She moved through the apothecary with a determined focus, sorting herbs into jars with precise movements to make more of the tincture for Leon.
The rhythmic grinding of the mortar and pestle offered her a small reprieve from the thoughts swirling in her mind.
It had been three days since Marcus kissed her, and the memory still burned brightly in her chest. She could feel the warmth of his lips as if it had only just happened.
Ye’ve got work to do, Annabeth; nay time for foolish distractions.
Leaning against the cool stone wall, Annabeth let out a shaky breath, her thoughts pulling her in two directions.
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, providing her 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.