Page 7 of The Guardian's Witch

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 minute.

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.”

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