“Yes, staying still may be difficult.” She noticed his hand begin to shake—a result of the poison. She must act quickly. What was taking Ann so long? She took a deep breath and remained calm on the outside. She rummaged through her kit and found what she needed, then busily prepared a tincture.
“You’ll not need to hold me down. I’ll not struggle.” His head fell back on the pillow.
She looked at him and noticed the shadow of a grimace pass over his face. “I don’t think you’ll be able…”
“I’ll make you a wager. If I lay still and leave you to your ministration, you will let me kiss you.” The teasing brought color to his gray cheeks.
Too surprised by his proposal to do more than stare at him, flashes of her vision raced through her mind.
“Do we have a wager?”
“And if you don’t stay still?” She bent back to preparing the tincture.
The amused gleam left his eyes. “Then you can call my men to hold me. But I will not die fighting my own men.” His teasing returned. “The thought of your kiss will keep me still. Do you agree to the wager?”
She brewed some dark tea with the water from the kettle and added the tincture. “I’m usually paid with chickens and vegetables. I’ve never been paid with a kiss.” No one could remain still. Not even him. She turned and faced him with the cup in her hand. She hesitated and reached in her kit and drew out an engraved stone. She put the cup aside and took the thin purple leather strip from her hair and threaded it through the amulet.
“If you wear this I will agree to your wager.”
He took a quick breath as a flash of pain caught him. He looked at the trinket then back to her. He nodded and let her put the amulet around his neck.
She knew he humored her but she didn’t care as long as he wore it. She retrieved the cup.
“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.
* * *
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of The Guardian’s Witch. You can purchase the book here.
About the Author
RUTH A. CASIE is USA Today Best Selling author of swashbuckling action-adventure, some are time-travel, all her stories are romances about strong empowered women and the men who deserve them, endearing flaws and all. Her Druid Knight novels have finaled in the NJRW Golden Leaf contest. The Guardian’s Witch, part of the Stelton Legacy series was a Reader’s Crown Finalist. Ruth also writes contemporary romance with enough action to keep you turning pages. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, three empty bedrooms and a growing number of incomplete counted cross-stitch projects. Before she found her voice, she was a speech therapist (pun intended), client liaison for a corrugated manufacturer, and international bank vice president in product and marketing management, but her favorite job is the one she’s doing now—writing romance.
.
Ruth would love to hear from you
@RuthACasie
RuthACasie
www.RuthACasie.com
[email protected]
Ruth’s Booklist
Medieval Romances
The Druid Knight Series
Knight of Runes
Knight of Rapture
Knight of Redemption – Coming Soon
The Druid Knight Tales A Short Story—Expanded
* * *
The Stelton Legacy
The Guardian’s Witch
The Maxwell Ghost
Collections
Timeless Tales – Short Stories
Mistletoe and Magick featured in Timeless Keepsakes- Medieval
Second Chance by the Sea featured in Timeless Escapes - Contemporary
Whispers on the Wind featured in Timeless Treasures - Medieval
Forsaking All Others featured in Timeless Vows - Contemporary
I’ll Be Home for Christmas featured in Timeless Moments - Contemporary
* * *
Havenport – Contemporary Novellas
The Game’s AFoot featured in Welcome to Havenport
The Witching Hour featured in Haunted Havenport
Snowbound in Havenport — Fall, 2017
The Highlander’s English Woman
Copyright © 2016 Ruth Seitelman
Expanded version of The Maxwell Ghost, previously part of the published collection, ONCE UPON A HAUNTED CASTLE.
Timeless Scribes Publishing LLC
Print ISBN-10: 1-945679-04-2
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-945679-04-9
Digital ISBN-10: 1-945679-03-4
Digital ISBN-13: 978-1-945679-03-2
Editors: DM Comfort
Copy Editor: Emma Kaye
Cover Artist: Angela Waters
All rights reserved.
Except for use in any review, no part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher, Timeless Scribes Publishing LLC, P.O. Box 112, Kenilworth, NJ 07033.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Timeless Scribes Publishing LLC.
www.TimelessScribes.com
ISBN: 978-1-945679-03-2
The Highlander’s English Woman (The Stelton Legacy) Page 25