Page 4 of The Guardian's Witch

“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.Adelicious 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.Foreverechoed 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.

Under her palm, still on his chest, she felt his swift intake of breath and quickened heartbeat. A disturbing thought swept over her. Had he seen it too?

She lifted her hand from his chest and attempted to retrieve the other from his grasp. He would not give it up. After a few silent moments he released her. His hand fell to the bed like a deadweight. His eyes darkened in agony.

“Where’s the pain?” she asked with authority. Already the loss of his touch left her cold. She didn’t wait for him to answer. She carefully slipped the blanket down to expose his well-defined chest and trim hips laced with recent bandages. In her work as a healer she’d seen many shirtless men.

Dark curly hair dusted his wide chest. The manly patch narrowed down his torso until a thin line disappeared beneath the blanket. She glimpsed at his face and noticed the devilish gleam in his eye amidst his pain. He pulled one corner of his mouth into a tight smile. Of all the naked chests she’d seen, his was perfect.

Ancient words filled her head and cleared her mind. His body was a field of scars. She touched the scar at his neck. He lifted his chin to give her a better view. She worked down his torso concentrating on the new wounds. Her fingers fleetingly traced each one. Satisfied they were clean and on the mend she moved on to the next one.

A swelling and redness peaking over the edge of the blanket quickly had her attention. She lowered the cover further to evaluate it. The hint of foul odor filled the space around him.

She continued to lower the blanket. Once again he caught her hand.

“You’ll not want to look. I expect the wound isn’t a pretty sight, surely not one for you to see,” he whispered. She looked into his eyes and knew at once the grim reality he had accepted. He was going to die. He let his head fall back against the pillow. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

She placed a steady hand on his arm and looked at his enlarged pupils with concern. “I must examine the wound if I’m to help you.” Finally, she felt his muscles relax.

He turned his head to stare deeply into her eyes. “You’ve avoided me at every turn. Why come now?”

“I’m here to see to your wounds.”

“Aye, my death more likely.” He released her hand. He scanned her face while she exposed the bandage.

Silently, she ticked off a catalog of plants. Ancient words and melodies swirled in her head and crept out her lips while her skillful hands worked. She carefully cut away the bandage and exposed the wound. The overpowering pungent odor assaulted her nostrils. She looked again at his eyes. His pupils were enlarged and confirmed her suspicion—poison.

A disturbing thought persisted. He’d been like this for two days. She pushed the thought aside and bent to saving him—if she wasn’t already too late. The edges of the wound screamed an angry red. The infection was well past the edges of the lesion. The swollen area was crusted in some areas and drained ugly yellow pus in others.

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