“And what’s this concoction you give me?” He sniffed at the cup.
“It’s to activate the spell in the amulet.”
His eyebrows flew up in surprise.
She let loose a mischievous laugh. “No, it’s only to take the edge off the pain.”
He relaxed and took the cup from her hand. “I’d rather drink your father’s ale.”
She lifted his head and helped him drink the tincture.
He downed the contents. His mouth puckered. “Let me live long enough to collect my wager. I’d rather die with the taste of your sweet lips on mine.” He chuckled but was caught once more with a spasm of pain.
He rested his head back on the pillow and turned to watch her. “Alas. My kiss will leave you wanting more I’m afraid. It’s a good thing you’ve called for my men. They may have to restrain you.”
She couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. Did he always face death with such boldness? She reached for the basin. “We shall see, m’lord.”
“Call me Alex. If we’re going to be intimate, we’re past polite.”
She froze at his suggestion the basin still in her hand. She took a calming breath. “We shall see… Alex.” She put the basin on the table near his bed. She was ready.
Ann arrived with four of Alex’s men close behind. She handed Lisbeth the linens and went off to refill the kettle.
“Have the men wait outside the door. I will call out if we need them,” said Lisbeth.
Alex gave her a grateful nod.
“Zhure nas sheer naf durzh.” The ancient healing song filled her head. “Ancient one give him strength to endure.” She submerged the linen strip in the basin of steaming water. “Zhure nas sheem naf sarzh.” She wrung out the cloth. “Ancient one give me knowledge to succeed.” She turned and noted him look at her hands, which were bright red from the scalding water.
He took up the soft soothing sound of her whispered words. “Zhure nas sheer naf durzh,” he said softly.
“Zhure nas sheer naf durzh,” she repeated under her breath.
She placed the compress on the festering wound. He barely stirred. She pressed the cloth lightly into place to draw the infection onto the linen. She removed the cloth when it cooled. The crusted pus loosened and clung to the rag. Over and over, she plunged her hands into the scalding water and wrung out the fresh hot linen. Before long the wound wept profusely. Little by little, it ran clearer, the linen eventually tinged with red. “The blood needs to run rich and red before you’ll be out of danger.”
“You’re doing fine.” His voice was rough with pain.
Startled by his encouragement, she stopped her hand poised to soak the next linen. She felt his eyes on her but resisted meeting his gaze for fear she would give her inner thoughts away. She doused the cloth and wrung out the water. She continued to save his life.
When the wound bled freely, a signal the infection was gone, she stepped back. Tired, relief flooded through her. She noticed his hand lying along his side and watched his fist open. She wiped the sweat from his face. She studied his eyes, pleased to see them clear and bright. Ready to apply the preparation to the wound, she hesitated. Something niggled at her. She learned long ago not to deny the feeling. She placed one more hot linen on the wound.
“Faith,” he swore. “The burning’s from the inside.”
“From the inside?” She removed the linen and carefully searched the wound. He squirmed from her touch. “Patience, I’m almost done.”
He let out a chuckle. “You’ll need to do more than that for me to lose the bet.”
She peered at him. Through all her ministrations he only voiced words of encouragement. As he had pledged, he remained still and did not complain. “You’ve found me out.” She continued her search. “I may have to concede.”
“Of course you will.” He shifted his hip toward her.
He may have moved to ease his pain but it provided her with a better view. Something caught her eye. “There’s something lodged in the wound.” A quick glance confirmed her suspicion. The pale color on his face told her the pain once again gripped him.
He nodded his acknowledgement.
She rummaged through her kit and took out small pinchers. With a gentle touch she parted the swollen flesh. His muscles tensed “It must come out.” She knew the pain grew worse.
He held the bed linen in fisted hands and said nothing. His body glistened with sweat. His chest labored in short shallow breaths. He moved not a muscle.
How he lay there without screaming was a testament to his endurance and control. She probed a bit deeper. Her instrument touched something hard. It was not bone.
He drew in a deep breath.
She took only a brief notice and remained set to her work. Carefully she snagged the smooth corner of the object and began to withdraw a piece of slender steel. The metal slipped from her grip and the fragment slithered back into the wound. Alex stiffened. She froze.
“Go on, don’t stop now,” he said through clenched teeth.
Beads of perspiration danced on her forehead. She hesitated with the pinchers over the wound, ready to proceed. No, she needed the other corner of the metal. She looked at Alex. His gray face told her she must act quickly.
“Go ahead.”
She held his eyes for a moment then continued. She attacked from the other side of the wound. The pincher latched on to an engraved edge. With a steady hand and a tight hold of the steel she plucked out what was left of a blade.
Alex let out a sigh of relief.
She brought the steel to her nose. An acrid smell caught her attention. She dropped the fragment into the basin. Poison. She suspected it was nightshade. No, there was something different about this poison. The preparation she usually administered would not be adequate. She searched through her things until she found the vial she needed. A few drops worked into the preparation would be enough. She applied the poultice with great care and bound up the wound. “You’ve won the wager,” she said while she finished applying the dressing.
“Did you have any doubt? Thank you, Lisbeth. You have my gratitude.” His eyelids slowly slid down and he settled into an exhausted sleep.
She turned to the basin to retrieve the fragment and watched tendrils of blood swirl in graceful patterns. The water clouded while she stared mesmerized at the shapes. When the liquid cleared, she removed the metal, dried and slipped the fragment into her pouch. Relieved, she took a deep breath and emptied the basin. He wouldn’t die. He would live to fight another day, not because of her care but because the vision in the basin told her so.
Chapter Two
The aroma of fresh herbs from Lisbeth’s basket mingled with the rich earthy fragrance of the forest. Nature painted the September woodlands with vivid reds, bright yellows and oranges that created a breathtaking palette. Leaves lay scattered on the forest floor. Some swirled in an errant breeze. They crunched underfoot along the well-worn animal path she followed back to the hunting lodge. The tall arched branches of the ancient maple trees on either side of the trail intertwined high in the canopy and gave the impression of a grand cathedral. The weakened sun’s rays and the crisp air promised cooler weather would soon arrive. She enjoyed this peaceful safe place. She’d been here often with her father, but best not to think about those times.
The rustling of bushes reached her ears and sent a flutter of panic across her shoulders. The nearby thicket gave one last shudder before a deer sprang out and landed in front of her. Staggering with an arrow planted deep in its side, the startled animal looked at Lisbeth and fell trembling in a pool of mist in front of her. The deer’s graceful legs straightened and twitched. The animal’s rich brown eyes rolled. Lisbeth knew the wound was fatal. She dropped her basket and rushed to attend. She would give it what comfort she could.
She laid the deer’s head on her lap and stroked and crooned. There was little more she could do to ease its passing. The animal’s heartbeat echoed in her head and grew fainter with every passing minu
te.
Something else stirred. She felt the sound before the thundering noise of someone crashing through the forest assaulted her ears.
“Lisbeth, I see you’ve found my deer. I’ve been chasing the doe for miles, and a merry chase it’s led me.” He looked down at her cradling the dying animal. “Och, Lass.”
She didn’t say anything. She sat there staring at Jamie Collins, her sister’s husband, and four of his clansmen, tears trembling on her eyelids. Icy fear held her captive. She gently stroked the deer. The animal shuddered and gave its final breath.
“I couldn’t leave the animal in pain. You know I don’t kill for sport but for food,” he said softly and approached her. “Men, take care of the animal.” He held out his hand and helped her to her feet.
She stood, her mourning dress stained with blood.
“Come, Lisbeth. I’ll escort you to the lodge.” He tenderly linked her arm in his and handed her the forgotten basket. They walked the quarter mile down the path to her adopted home.
“Quiet are we now. Won’t you talk to me? I’ve not known you to be so taken with the death of a forest creature.”
“It wasn’t the animal laying cross my lap,” she said in a whisper. Her throat constricted and threatened to close up. They continued on. She was thankful for his silent company. Still shaken, she turned and managed a tremulous smile. “Jamie, were you able to find out anything about the attack on Alex? It’s been two weeks.”
“They suspect we Scots had a hand in the plot. We bear the blame of others these days.” Jamie combed his fingers through his thick coppery hair. “No, not a thing, lass. I’ve spoken to every clansman in the area. Each gives me his word he took no part in the attack. They were as surprised as Alex.” He pushed the branches of a waist-high wild hazelnut bush out of their way. The bruised leaves sent a nutty fragrance into the air.
Deep in thought, Lisbeth plucked some nuts and added them to her basket. “Could it have anything to do with the disappearance of the other king’s men? Perhaps they too were attacked?”
“That’s a possibility. There’s more here than we know. Is someone out to kill Alex, stir up something between your country and mine, or is there a bigger plan we’re not seeing? I’m on my way to meet with him now.”
Her hand tightened on his arm. A foreboding ran through her. “Jamie, is it safe? If they think Scots are involved, you could be in great danger.”
“Now, lass, I promise you I’ll be careful.” He patted her hand in reassurance. He gave her a solemn stare. “There’s another reason I’m here. I wanted to talk to you about staying alone at the lodge. It’s too remote. You must go back to Glen Kirk.”
“I’m fine. I don’t—”
“Lisbeth, I’m told the raiders attacked Lord Mitchell’s farms at the south end of the valley. I understand the farmers on your land prepare to defend their farms. For your own safety you must stay inside the walls.”
“No, Jamie. I’ll stay at the lodge. I’m safe here.” She said it more to convince herself. Jamie would be a harder challenge. “You know I must. There is no other way to keep the villagers safe.”
“Of course you can go back.”
She stopped and faced him. “Jamie, how can you tell me to go back? You were there.” She didn’t try to hide her annoyance. “Let me see, was it the first or second protector?” she said while she tapped her lower lip with her forefinger. “No, it was the first protector. What was his name?”
His brow furrowed and his shoulders jolted as if he’d been slapped on the back.
With both her hands on her hips she continued. “I see you do remember the encounter.”
“Hubert,” said Jamie.
“Hubert.” She nodded her head in agreement. “How could I forget?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “What did he call me? Oh yes, an abomination.” She spoke with bitter resentment. “When the villagers protested, he declared them my coven and said he would kill them all.”
“The fool, surely you knew the drink loosened his tongue.” He met her accusing eyes without flinching.
“He certainly downed enough of Father’s ale. But drunk or not I knew I jeopardized everyone if I stayed. The hunting lodge is the perfect place.” She marched on.
“You shouldn’t have played with the mist.” He took long strides and caught up to her quickly.
“Everyone knows the trick. When the weather’s right the mist from the terrace seeps in and gathers thick and heavy in the hall.”
“Yes, but Hubert didn’t know,” he said with easy defiance. “Nor did he see the dog curled up in the mist. When you snapped your fingers the dog wagged his tail and the mist shifted. Hubert squeaked like a woman and nearly jumped out of his skin.”
She couldn’t stop the wicked smile. “He did, didn’t he? Thank goodness he and his friends are gone. He was not good for Glen Kirk.”
“Is it a coincidence that the old tale of a curse was revived when Hubert’s men gave their report to the king?”
“Yes, but you and I know there isn’t any curse, only an old forgotten legend. The rumor of the curse does no harm. The only way I can protect the villagers is if they stay cautious rather than close to me where they could get hurt. There’s no safety for me or the villagers with any of the king’s protectors if I’m there.”
“Alex is different. Besides, you know this man. He told me you knew each other at court.”
“That was different,” she said wistfully. “He was close with Richard. Laura and I only tormented them by being their shadows, although Alex came to our defense more often than Richard. Nonetheless, he is the king’s man whether I know him or not. He’s not to be trusted.”
“All men are not like the king’s protectors. Lisbeth, you must return to the castle.”
“You weren’t this adamant about the other man the king sent. Why this one?”
He gave her a thoughtful look. “He’s special.”
“Oh, now you have visions, too.”
“No,” Jamie gave her a sideways glance, a twinkle evident in his eyes before he turned serious. “I’ve worked with him and observed him. He’s a worthy man. You can’t abandon your people, lass. They trust you and look to you for direction.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “Glen Kirk is your home. You are the daughter of Lord Wesley Reynolds. You must live in the castle. Besides, if you do not trust Alex, why should your people? He needs to know they will heed his commands. He needs their trust if he’s to protect them. But more important, it isn’t safe here until they catch the raiders.”
She shivered at the thought. Her people’s trust. If her people knew the truth they would never trust her again. “You don’t understand. I can’t, not yet.”
He swung her around and grabbed her by her shoulders, his face twisted with anger. “Is something wrong? Has Alex done something?”
“No, Jamie, not at all.” She existed to Alex only in her dreams. “He’s proud and a bit arrogant but he is better than the others the king sent. They were brazen with a touch of venom.” Her pulse leaped when she thought of his wager. “It’s the images. I must stay away.” If only she could tell Jamie. But what would he make of them? Best she keep them to herself. “They would think me a…”
“A witch?”
She winced at the word as if branded with a hot iron.
“It’s more than Hubert. Laura told me of your fear.” He reached his arm around her and gathered her shoulders to his chest as they moved along. “You’re gifted like your mother. Is it the visions? Are you having more of them?”
She remained motionless. “Did you know that Mother had visions? There were times when she knew something was going to happen but she never spoke about visions. I’m certain she had them too. When I was a child I used to tell her about my dreams all the time. She listened, never acknowledged them, and then changed the subject. After a while I stopped talking about them and assumed they were shameful. She didn’t want to hear about my dreams any more than I wanted to have them.” She squirmed out
of his arms. They walked on. “Jamie, of what use are they? When you know what’s going to happen, you can’t prevent it. You just go on knowing and dreading it. I couldn’t help Richard and I couldn’t help…”
“No, lass, you couldn’t help your brother or your parents.” The words sat heavy on the air. “Maybe the visions are to prepare you. Although I will tell you this, sometimes you can take action, make changes today that will alter tomorrow.” They both turned and walked on silently. She knew what he was saying was important.
“Other times you can’t do anything. I don’t know why Darla didn’t speak to you. She must have had a good reason. But you know I’ll listen. Now tell me about the visions?”
“I’m having more of them—more often and more intense.” Definitely more intense. She bit her lip and looked away. Why wouldn’t her mother talk about them with her? The visions were beyond her control. She was resigned to the fact she was at their mercy. Going over it again was useless and brought back all the pain of her parents’ deaths. She gave herself a mental shake and struggled to move on. If only he would change his line of questions. “How are Laura and the children?” She saw the thoughts cross his face and knew he would give her some peace.
“Change the subject, will you now. Your sister and the children ask for you all the time. She wanted to come with me today but…”
“It isn’t safe,” she finished.
“I won’t let Laura and the children wander the forest on either side of the border without escort. And I don’t want you wandering in the forest alone either. When the two of you want to see each other, I will arrange it.” They reached the lodge. She ignored his comment but noticed the tender caring marked on his face. “I’ll visit when—”
“It’s safe.” He took her by her shoulders. “You will stay inside Glen Kirk.” He threw up his hands to the heavens. “Will you not stay inside the castle gates for my sake? Your sister would never forgive me if anything happened to you. I wouldn’t forgive myself. Now go change out of your dress. Bloodstains are not what the court is wearing this year, my lady.” He bowed in an elegant courtier’s way and smiled. “I’ll bring you a colorful new frock since it’s my fault you’ve lost this one. You’ve worn black long enough.” He kissed her on her forehead and left her at the lodge door.
Ruth A. Casie Page 3
