Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Iwant the horses saddled at dawn and plenty of provisions packed,” Marcus instructed, his tone brisk and authoritative. He stood in the courtyard, the cool air biting at his face as he addressed Eli.
Eli nodded, already mentally taking stock of what needed doing. “And make sure the smith looks at me left stirrup; it felt loose on me last ride, aye?” Marcus added, crossing his arms as he watched Eli bow his head in agreement before hurrying off.
The sound of hurried footsteps drew Marcus’ attention, his head snapping toward the courtyard gate. Elena stumbled in, her skirts hitched slightly as she ran, her face pale and her breathing ragged. Marcus’ brow furrowed as he stepped forward.
“Elena? What’s the matter?” he demanded, his voice sharp with concern.
Elena’s wide eyes met his, panic spilling from every word as she blurted, “It’s Annabeth!
She’s in the forest, near the moss grove—she’s in danger!
” She clutched at her chest, trying to catch her breath.
Marcus’ jaw tensed, a cold dread curling in his stomach.
“Did she fall? Is she hurt?” he asked, his voice low but firm though his heart pounded in his chest.
“Nay,” Elena replied, shaking her head frantically. “It’s men—strange men! They came upon us out of nowhere. She sent me runnin’, but they stayed behind with her!” Her voice cracked with fear, and her words struck Marcus like a thunderclap.
Marcus didn’t wait for more details. Without another word, he grabbed the reins of his stallion, and he swung up onto the saddle in one fluid motion, his face darkening with fury.
“Find Eli and tell him,” he barked at Elena before digging his heels into his horse’s sides and galloping through the gates.
I’ll destroy them for darin’ to touch her.
Marcus’ hands gripped the reins tightly as the wind whipped past him.
Anyone who lays a hand on her willnae live to see another dawn.
His chest burned with the weight of his rage, and his vision blurred with red-hot anger.
I would burn down entire clans for her.
The hooves of his horse pounded against the dirt road, kicking up dust as Marcus rode with singular focus. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and his knuckles whitened against the leather reins.
They’ll pay. They’ll all pay.
His thoughts repeated with unrelenting fury.
He leaned low over his horse’s neck, urging the beast to run faster.
The forest loomed ahead, dark and shadowed, but Marcus didn’t slow.
He knew the moss grove well, the path to it etched into his mind from years of familiarity.
His heart thundered as his stallion leaped over a fallen log, the sound of its heavy breaths matching his own.
He rounded the final bend, the grove coming into view, and his hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the area with the intensity of a hunter, his muscles taut and ready to strike.
His gaze landed on a man groaning on the ground, clutching a bloodied leg.
The grove was eerily empty except for him, and Marcus’ heart pounded with fury.
The man scrambled to his feet as best he could, clutching a thick tree limb, and swung wildly at Marcus.
Marcus dodged the blow, his instincts honed from years of combat, and he delivered a sharp punch to the man’s jaw.
The man staggered back, dazed, before Marcus grabbed him by the collar. “Where is she?” Marcus snarled, but the man only cursed.
Marcus held his dirk to the man’s throat. “Where did they take her?”
“Our camp—’tis that way, by the brook,” the man said with panic.
“Ye’ll never harm another.” Marcus slashed the man’s neck.
His jaw tightened as he noticed a trail of footprints leading deeper into the forest. His fury raged as he mounted his horse once more, his keen eyes following the tracks.
This is me land. Nay one dares violate anyone here—nae while I breathe.
But it wasn’t just about his territory—his thoughts burned with the image of Annabeth, her defiance, her strength, and the horrifying possibility of her being harmed. His chest ached as the tracks became fresher.
When Marcus spotted them, his vision turned red with rage.
Annabeth was being pinned onto the ground by one man while another tore at her corset.
Her skirt was torn and dirty, her face pale but defiant as she screamed.
Without hesitation, Marcus leaped off his horse and charged toward them, his sword flashing in the dappled light of the forest.
“Get yer hands off her!” he roared, his voice shaking the trees.
The first bandit barely had time to draw his weapon before Marcus’ blade crashed against it, sending it flying.
A swift kick to the man’s chest sent him sprawling.
The second bandit lunged at Marcus with a knife, but Marcus disarmed him with brutal efficiency, a growl tearing from his throat as he knocked the man to the ground.
Both men lay groaning in the dirt within moments, and Marcus turned to Annabeth.
Her eyes widened as Marcus knelt beside her, his face still hard with fury.
“Are ye hurt?” he asked, his voice gruff though his hands were gentle as he draped his doublet over her shoulders.
Annabeth shook her head, her lip trembling as she clutched the fabric tightly.
Marcus pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the world.
What would I have done if she wasnae here anymore? I cannae lose her.
The thought of her absence was a wound he could not bear to imagine, and his arms tightened around her as if she might vanish if he let go.
“Yer safe now,” he murmured, his voice low but fierce, as if willing the words into truth. He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “I’ll make sure they never come near ye again.”
His jaw clenched as his gaze flicked to the groaning men, the promise of retribution etched into every line of his face as he walked over to them and stabbed his sword through them each, slowly and painfully.
“These are me lands, and ye dare try to harm the women. Yer punishment is death.”
When he was sure the men were dead he returned to Annabeth, now having the time to look her over.
“Annabeth,” Marcus said, his voice low and urgent as his hands lightly touched her shoulders, “are ye hurt? Tell me the truth. Did they—”
“Nay,” she replied, her voice shaking as she clutched his doublet tighter around her. “I’m nae hurt, just… shocked, I suppose. It all happened so fast. Ye came just in time.”
Marcus let out a long breath, his jaw relaxing slightly as he looked her over for any hidden injuries. “Ye scared the life out of me, woman,” he muttered, his tone softer now. “But ye did good—distractin’ those bastards so Elena could get to me. That was brave.”
Annabeth looked down, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his coat. “I couldnae let them hurt her. She’s with— I’d do it again if I had to.”
His expression darkened, and he shook his head firmly. “Nay, Annabeth. Ye’ll nae put yerself in harm’s way like that again. Do ye hear me?”
She met his gaze, her chin lifting slightly though her hands still trembled. “And what if there’s nae other choice? I couldnae just stand there and let them—”
“Enough,” Marcus interrupted, his voice sharp but not unkind. “Ye did what ye thought was right, and I’ll nae fault ye for it. But next time, ye leave the fightin’ to me. I’ll always come for ye.”
There was a flicker of emotion in his eyes—something raw and unguarded.
“I’ll try,” she whispered, her resolve softening just a little. “But ye’d better be quick, Marcus. I’m nae one for waitin’.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite the tension in his features. “Aye, lass,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ll always be quick when it’s for ye.”
Marcus picked her up in his arms and placed her on the horse then sat behind her, his arms cradling her as they rode.
“Why were ye two alone in the forest?” he asked, his voice tight with concern. “What if somethin’ worse had happened?”
Annabeth glanced up at him, her expression serious. “We were gatherin' herbs for the villagers, Marcus. Supplies have been growin’ scarce, and we’ve been doin’ what we can to help. It seemed safe enough at the time.”
Marcus frowned, his mind working through the possibilities. “Next time, ye’ll come get me,” he said firmly. “I’ll accompany ye to the forest. I daenae want ye goin’ off on yer own again, especially nae with what just happened. If I cannae do it, I will have guards go with ye.”
The sound of thundering hooves echoed, and Marcus put his hand on his sword until he saw Eli and four guards come into view.
“Laird! What goes?” Eli shouted.
“All is well. I am nae injured, and the lass is shaken but nae hurt. See to the men back there I have left for dead. Find out what ye can about them. I want names, and when ye are done, burn the bodies and burn the camp.”
“Aye, ye heard the Laird, with me!” Eli shouted the orders, and the group of men rode past Marcus and Annabeth as they continued back toward the castle.
They reached the moss grove in silence, and Marcus could feel the tension still hanging between them. Annabeth moved toward the spot where she had dropped her basket, eyes scanning the ground for it. “This was the man who suggested the women go with them,” she muttered, pointing to the dead man.
Marcus turned to face her, his fists tightening at his sides. “That bastard,” he muttered under his breath.
His mind raced, and the fury that had once subsided surged back to life.
I should’ve made that man regret ever layin’ a finger on Annabeth, and now, I’m nae sure if the anger will ever fade.
Inwardly, Marcus cursed himself for his restraint. He should have been more brutal, more vicious when dealing with those scoundrels.
Marcus sighed and glanced out at the woods, his thoughts still heavy with what could’ve happened.
I couldnae live with meself if they'd taken ye, Annabeth. I’ll kill anyone who dares come close to ye.