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Excerpt
– First Encounter – The Guardian’s Witch
“There
aren’t many left in service. The king’s protectors scared them away.” Ann gave
the linen a final tug.
“You
mean the rumors of the curse.” Bryce’s voice held a bitter edge of cynicism.
“No,
not because of the rumors, which are ridiculous, but because over the last two
years no one in this castle has cared about the village or the people,” she
dipped her head toward Alex. “Except for him.”
“Bryce?”
Alex’s whispered words went unheard. Exhausted and in pain, he fought to open
his eyes, to no avail. He would not surrender control. Instead he struggled to
take in bits and pieces of the conversation.
Barely
able to stay awake, Alex glimpsed Bryce turn a curious eye to him. Bryce shook
his head and gave Ann his attention. “He’ll not be happy having her minister to
him.”
“Lord
Mitchell, she may be his last hope.”
Alex
caught the worry in her voice. He gritted his teeth and remained motionless. He
could feel it building. He braced for another wave of pain that would sweep
over him.
“Why,
Ann, you’re fond of the man and still you bring in the witch? She’s exiled
herself to the old hunting lodge. Best she stays there.” The words hung in the
room. “But I suppose she won’t be there much longer.”
Alex
knew from experience the hostile glare that accompanied the sound in Bryce’s
voice.
“M’lord,
I know your feelings about the girl. I don’t understand. I remember the way you
followed each other around when you were children. We both know she’s no
witch.”
“Then
explain her unusual power with herbs and tonics.”
“She’s
no different than her mother, rest her soul. She too was a gifted healer. That
doesn’t make either of them witches. Didn’t Lady Darla help you when you broke
your arm so badly everyone thought it had to be cut off?”
Alex
could feel the anger rolling off Bryce but he couldn’t dwell on it. He knew
more than saw his close friend flex the fist of his sword arm. A sudden pinch
of pain and he stiffened himself for another surge of agony.
Ann
hovered over him. “His fever worsens. He’ll not last the night.”
The
worry in Ann’s voice compelled Alex to fight through the cobwebs and remain
alert.
“I’m
surprised he’s lasted this long.” Bryce whispered. “What will I tell the king?”
The
slap of riding gloves against Bryce’s thigh startled Alex.
“I
told Alex the thieving Scots couldn’t be trusted. I’d lead the English against
them myself if the king would bring up his men from Wales.”
Suffering
the incessant pain was useless. He had to take command. Concentrate. He needed
to concentrate. Little by little he fought to control his body. His eyes
fluttered opened. He was unprepared for the assault of light streaming in from
the window. He raised his hand to shield them and gathered his wits amidst his
aching head.
Ann
rushed, pulled the shutters closed to darken the room and returned to his side.
A
cool cloth touched his feverish forehead. He silently thanked the angel. With
his eyes closed, he relaxed and let the soothing cloth take him to a tranquil
place. A few more minutes and he would try again.
A
gentle knock brought him back to the present. The hinge creaked and a cool
breeze danced across his damp face. Thankfully, the pain subsided enough for
him to pry open his eyes again. Lisbeth glided silently into the room. Her long
brown cloak billowed out around her and gave the eerie appearance she floated
on air. Through narrow slits he detected her shadow approach. A fresh scent
seeped into the stale room. He sniffed the familiar light evergreen mixed with
mint, rosemary and spicy floral scent. Lavender. She handed Ann her small healing
kit and cloak. In his dazed state he could still make out the outline of her
black mourning dress next to him.
Something
primal and compelling kept Alex conscious. He was always aware when she was
near. Her soft lilting murmur drove the buzzing from his head. The ache eased
into a dull roar. Everything was a struggle, staying awake, keeping his eyes
open. Faith, breathing was an effort. He squinted and worked hard to take in
the scene. There were a few minutes left before the light once again would be
unbearable. He needed to rest his eyes, but not right now. He forced himself to
stay in command of his senses.
“Good
day, Lisbeth. I’ll leave you to your patient.” Bryce’s voice was courteous yet
arrogant.
Mine.
The whispered thought rang in his head. The very idea startled him.
Lisbeth
looked at Bryce. “Good day, Bryce.” Alex heard the touch of sadness in her
voice. Then all was quiet.
The
flexing fist at Bryce’s side was not lost on Alex. Neither was Bryce’s discomfort
at Lisbeth’s silence and steady stare.
“Ann,
send word when … I will need to tell the king,” Bryce mumbled. The door closed
behind him.
“You
can wash up here.”
Lisbeth
stepped quietly to the porcelain basin placed on the battle chest between the
window and hearth. She cracked open the shutter.
Alex
heard the clatter of the basin and splatter of water hitting the cobbled stones
on the ground outside his window.
“John
told me about the ambush in the forest.” Lisbeth spoke softly to Ann as she
returned the basin to the campaign chest.
He
closed his eyes and willed his sluggish body to respond. He grabbed on to
anything that would kept him in the moment, the splash of water refilling the
basin, the crackle of the fire and snap of clean linen.
“The
attack came within sight of the tower,” said Ann. “His big blade caught the
last of the sun. The flash alerted the tower guard and he sent the men out.
Prime, bless the beast’s heart, raised the alarm with Lord Alex’s soldiers who
followed on the trail.”
Lisbeth
took the linen Ann offered.
“He
was dazed but awake when the men brought him in. John helped get him out of his
clothes, examined every inch of him, cleaned and dressed his wounds. His
lordship was troubled and restless. He kept mumbling about someone behind him.
He couldn’t understand who attacked him or why.
He
wanted no meal but had an awful thirst. He drank several tankards of ale and
fell asleep.”
Her
hands dry, Lisbeth gave the linen back to Ann and stepped to Alex’s bedside.
“In
the morning he didn’t break the fast nor attend practice. He never misses
practice. His captain attempted to rouse him but he found Lord Alex with a
fever. No one could wake him. That was two days ago.”
“You
should have called me sooner.” Lisbeth’s eyes remained on Alex. “John told me
none of his injuries were serious enough to make him this ill.” His dark wavy
hair was plastered to his head except for a stray lock that fell over his
forehead giving him a boyish appearance. Lisbeth reached under the blanket and
threaded her fingers through the soft hair on his torso to rest her hand on his
bare chest. A sense of unease gnawed at her. She pushed her doubts aside for
the moment and concentrated on the man. His breathing was shallow and slow but
his heartbeat was strong. With her other hand she reached to lift his eyelid.
Alex’s
eyes flew open. He captured her hand in midair. His gripe was like a vise. Eyes
like silver lightning pinned her in place.
She
tilted her head and looked at his hand grasping hers. A tingling sensation sent
a dizzying current from his grasp all the way up her arm. The room took on a
golden haze. Her earlier unrest morphed into a shiver that raced up her spine.
A fleeting image of him crushing her in his embrace skittered across her mind.
His soft breath heated something
deep inside her when he brought his face closer to hers. Her heart thundered
with anticipation. His firm lips kissed her eyelids and advanced to her ear. Mine, he whispered. A delicious shudder pulsed
through her body. He marched on to her lips and coaxed them open. His spicy
scent swept over her. He captured his prize and swept in with his tongue in
victory. Forever echoed in her head.
She
blinked and the haze vanished. A jumble of confused thoughts and feelings
assaulted her. Once again she stared into his magnetic eyes. Her lips throbbed
with hunger for his. She dropped her lashes to hide her confusion. A dream? A wish?
She’d never had such visions. She gave herself a shake to rid herself of the
final images.
Back
Cover Copy
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.
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