Welcome to the
final day of our blog hop. I really loved writing this scene. I can hear
Lisbeth’s foot falls as she rushes through the forest. I can feel her anxiety
trying to find Alex. What does she do when he asks her to wait? Here is the
full scene. I hope you enjoy it.
Excerpt from The Guardian’s Witch
The
berries Lisbeth had gathered tumbled forgotten from her hands. A tremor touched
her lips while the vision slammed behind her eyes. She didn’t doubt the
vision’s truth. Sometimes a bright light, warm and comforting, accompanied the
vision; other times the wind howled, cold and disturbing. Today, panic clearly
filled the air.
She
spun around trying to pinpoint a direction and abruptly stopped. Facing south,
she licked her lips nervously and tasted the sweetness of fresh water. A
rushing sound burst in her ears. The river. Her head snapped east toward the
river path and she ran. As she careened down the narrow trail, the outstretched
branches tugged at her dress, pulled off her shawl and clawed at her face and
arms. She took no notice. The cadence of her footfalls beat out a mantra, not him, not him, not him. She rushed on
faster, mumbling enchanted words under her breath.
She
exploded out of the forest and stood on the riverbank as the bridge gave way,
sending the horse and rider plunging into the angry current. Swiftly the horse
surfaced and headed for shore with an empty saddle. She stood on the bank,
still mumbling as she scanned the river until she glimpsed a clear red aura
shining deep in its middle. Her relief was momentary when the blackness began
to creep in. There wasn’t much time.
Quickly
she pulled off her heavy dress and, wearing only her chemise, dove into the
river. Save him was her only thought.
Down she plunged kicking hard against the current. The usually clear water, now
choked with mud, churned with debris. She screamed the words in her head and
made her demands. In response, the current slowed and as the mud began to
settle, a lifeless hand beckoned to her from below.
Desperate
to reach him, she kicked hard toward the deep river bottom. She was a strong
swimmer and reached him quickly. She pulled on his arm but he didn’t budge.
Something pinned him in place. She dropped his hand and pulled herself around
him. The murky water made it difficult for her to see what held him. She
resorted to running her hand over every inch of his body to locate what kept
him captive. Her lungs burned. She needed to surface but she pressed on.
Frantically
her hands felt their way along his leg until she found his foot caught in the
debris. She shoved the timber away. The exertion cost her precious time and
air. With one hand she grabbed his shirt collar and kicked off the bottom. With
her free arm she reached for the surface. She didn’t take her eyes off him.
The
higher she got, the more the water cleared. The wild current fought to get free
of her restraint. She didn’t think. She focused on getting Alex out of the
water.
The
hand holding Alex’s collar cramped, sending spasms of pain up her arm. She did
not let go. The last of her breath spent, her lungs screamed for fresh air. She
forced herself not to breathe. She was certain she would break free of the
water soon. Alex’s weight pulled at her. She wasn’t making any progress. If she
didn’t do something quickly they would be back on the bottom. She glanced up.
The light was brighter. She was close now. She held her legs together and undulated
like a graceful giant fish. Once again her free arm reached hard and pulled the
water out of her way. One last hard kick and she exploded into the air as if
propelled from underneath. Alex floated face down next to her.
She
gulped for air, exhausted. There was no time to waste. She held on to him as
the current pulled them toward the rapids and the steep falls beyond. She
turned him onto his back and swam for shore. She dragged the large knight onto
the bank where his warhorse stood snorting and stomping. Worn out but thankful,
she collapsed next to Alex gasping for air. Her hand was on his chest.
He
didn’t stir. She fixed her eyes on his chest but she didn’t see any movement.
She scanned his face. A small trickle of water escaped his mouth.
She
rolled him on his side and pounded on his back. Nothing. She pounded again.
More water trickled out of his mouth. She reached inside his wet shirt. No
heartbeat.
She
kept the building panic at bay. Think.
Calmness overcame her. She rolled him onto his back and knelt above him. She
placed her mouth over his and gave him her breath. She’d given her breath
before, when the blacksmith’s wife gave birth and the baby didn’t breathe. That
day she had tried everything but nothing worked. She wanted to move the baby’s
chest, just one breath. In desperation she breathed for the child. It worked
then. It had to work now.
She
felt the tingle at her lips and a dizzying current raced through her. She
closed her eyes and gave him another breath. Her hand pressed hard against this
chest. She searched for a heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest, anything
to indicate he lived.
He
shuddered with a shallow breath. Reassured, she felt a faint but steady beat
and sank back on her heels. She observed the deadly gray pallor on his face
retreat. His arms twitched as they came to life. His face contorted in a spasm
as he choked to clear his lungs. He pushed himself up coughing out the last of
the river sludge and sucked in large quantities of air.
Relief
surged through her. She rose, retrieved her dress lying in a pool of sunlight,
and quickly slipped it on. She calmed the restless warhorse with her gentle
touch and whispered words, When she ventured a glance at the knight, she found
herself staring into his compelling gray eyes. His gaze was riveted on her
face. A fresh spasm of coughing took him, and she turned to leave.
“Wait.”
He struggled to get the word out.
She
stopped and took a deep breath.
He
shook his head. His eyelids slid closed and he fell onto his back. He fell
asleep before his head touched the ground.
She
stood next to him, laid the horse’s reins in one hand, and brought his other
onto his chest. Satisfied, she silently vanished into the forest before he woke
and admonished her for being outside the castle—without an escort. A scurry of
leaves, seemingly caught in the warm autumn breeze, covered any signs she had
been there.
Back Cover Copy of The Guardian’s Witch
England, 1290
Lord Alex Stelton
can't resist a challenge, especially one with a prize like this: protect a
castle on the Scottish border for a year, and it's his. Desperate for land of
his own, he'll do anything to win the estate—even enter a proxy marriage to
Lady Lisbeth Reynolds, the rumored witch who lives there.
Feared and
scorned for her second sight, Lisbeth swore she'd never marry, but she is drawn
to the handsome, confident Alex. She sees great love with him but fears what he
would think of her gift and her visions of a traitor in their midst.
Despite his own
vow never to fall in love, Alex can't get the alluring Lisbeth out of his mind
and is driven to protect her when attacks begin on the border. But as her
visions of danger intensify, Lisbeth knows it is she who must protect him.
Realizing they'll secure their future only by facing the threat together, she
must choose between keeping her magic a secret and losing the man she loves.
Buy Links
iBook: http://bit.ly/TGWiBook
Congratulations to xxxxx, the winner of the digital copy of The Maxwell Ghost. Please contact me at Ruth@RuthACasie.com so I can arrange to get you your book.
