Page 1 of The Guardian's Witch

Chapter One

Northumberland, England, 1290

“You won the wager with His Majesty,” said Lord Bryce Mitchell astride his Arabian. He cantered down the forest trail with Alex Stelton, the newly minted Lord of Glen Kirk Castle.

“The entire court placed odds on whether I would succeed.” The two men slowed their horses to a walk. Alex glanced at Bryce. “Did you lose much?” He refocused his attention on the trail ahead. “You should have put your coin on me. I only wager when I’m certain of the results.”

“After one year of holding the old stones against the Scots, he actually gifted the castle and his ward to you.” Bryce shook his head.

The ring of surprise in Bryce’s voice and evident disbelief on his face amused Alex. “His Majesty is a man of his word. Did you have any doubt?” asked Alex, his head cocked to the side with one eyebrow raised. His face split into a wide grin.

“About the king being a man of his word or of you holding off the Scots?” Bryce colored his smooth retort with a smirk.

The two friends looked at each other, exploded into laughter, and continued on until they reached the crossroads where they brought their horses to a halt. The tower of Glen Kirk Castle, bathed in the setting sun, peeked through the trees still some three miles to the north. Alex surveyed his new holding. His chest swelled with pride.Mine.

“Though Edward did make you pay.”

Alex was peeved by Bryce’s patronizing tone. He masked his emotions until they were as unreadable as stone.

“Yes, you could say that.” Alex tried his best dismissive tone. Best he forget the king’s retribution for now. There would be time enough to deal with it later.

“Could? Surely you knew if he lost the wager he would find some way to make you pay. He doesn’t lose gracefully at anything, but to actually marry you to his ward by proxy. I can still see the apoplectic look on your face.”

“Yes, Bryce—what about the look on my face?” demanded Alex. His voice sounded strident even to him.

Bryce turned all shades of purple trying to conceal his mirth but he said not one word more. Instead he diverted his attention and polished the gold clasp, embossed with the Mitchell coat of arms, on his cloak.

Alex bristled at being the center of anyone’s jest. He didn’t take it well from his brothers, although the six of them only teased to vex him. Even though he was the youngest, his brothers deferred to him. They knew his worth and, it appeared, so did the king.

His teeth clenched at the thought of his proxy wedding and his humiliation. He knew he had to take a wife. He had to make his own way in the world. The Stelton holdings were extensive but not enough to provide him with an income. He’d have done anything to prove himself worthy of a holding of his own. Maybe even marry. Perhaps even Lisbeth. He never thought he would marry on the whim of the king. He had tried to argue, but there was no arguing with Edward. Faith, the king all but patted him on his head and sent him off like a new page. A page. He raked his hand through his hair.

With a nod of his head, Bryce motioned toward Glen Kirk in the distance. “Marrying Lisbeth does secure your claim to Glen Kirk.”

Lisbeth. He had lived at Glen Kirk for a year and hardly saw her. The only way he knew she was near was the little charms she left or the serenity that surrounded them. She kept herself in the forsaken hunting lodge and managed to elude him at almost every turn.

On odd twinge of disappointment hung round him. She hadn’t been like that years ago when they encountered each other at court. She had laughed and didn’t have a care in the world. Four years later he wouldn’t have known it was her if she hadn’t presented herself at the castle. The impish girl had grown into a poised beauty. Dark hair fell in long waves down her back. Her slender body was punctuated with soft curves that couldn’t remain hidden by the black mourning gown. Large green eyes stared at him from under a fan of long dark lashes. Even with her dour expression her full lips tempted him. He moved uncomfortably in his saddle. How things change. How people change.

“You do know you’re the envy of everyone. Not because the king gave you Wesley’s treasured Glen Kirk or daughter.” Bryce turned serious. “You inherited Wesley’s brewer and ale recipe. That should give you some compensation. I understand it’s a long-held family secret. Wesley was all about family.”

Family. He let his mind wonder. It landed on memories of his early days at court with his parents and siblings. He enjoyed the candor and tumult around the table in their assigned apartment. How he would appreciate that safety and security today in the midst of a court filled with politics and intrigue.

“I intend to leverage our close friendship,” said Bryce, “I’ll sample each batch and make certain it retains its high standards.”

Alex grinned at his friend’s declaration. Lord Wesley and Lady Darla Reynolds had been close friends of his parents. They didn’t bring their daughters to court often but Richard, their son, was always with them and became close to the tight-knit band of Stelton boys. Richard’s death on the Welsh battlefields had been a shock to them all. He and Wesley had spent a good deal of time together consoling each other over a good many tankards of ale.

It was only a short time after Alex left for the Welsh Wars himself that he heard of Wesley and Darla’s fatal accident. He felt their loss deeply. Now in a twist of fate their beloved Glen Kirk and daughter were his.

“Have you sent word to her?” Bryce’s question hung heavy in the air.

Alex broke away from his musings. “No, I will tell her when the time comes.” Alex suppressed the annoyance in his voice. What if she didn’t want to be married to him? He had expected a warm welcome from her a year ago. She had made it obvious she wanted nothing to do with him. He’d have to find a way to approach the subject, see how agreeable she was to the idea. A seventh son, he never thought the king would care who he married. The last thing he wanted was a political wife. He relaxed his death grip on his horse’s reins, let out a deep breath, and changed the subject. “I’ve heard your border farms were raided. How bad were the attacks?”

Bryce took a bannock out of his saddlebag, broke off a piece and offered it to Alex. He leaned forward in his saddle, a conspiratorial tone in his voice. “And your Glen Kirk farmers?”

Relieved to get Bryce off the subject of his new wife, Alex’s brows knit together at the mention of his farms. He took a bite of the cake and washed it down with some ale from the skin he carried. He passed the ale to Bryce. “No attacks on my farms.” He wiped the crumbs from his lips with the back of his hand. “I set up patrols before we left for London. Since our lands are adjacent I’m certain it’s only a matter of time before the Glen Kirk farms become targets.”

“Yes, a good strategy. I’ll have my men patrol my border farms as well. That should give us a better chance of catching these men before they strike your farms.”

Alex’s chest tightened at the insinuation that he couldn’t protect his people, although Bryce’s offer did make good military sense. The tactician in him knew the benefit of working both sides of the border. He moved back in his saddle. Yes, Bryce’s men would be helpful.

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