Daughter of Sherwood
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Daughter
Of
Sherwood
by
Laura Strickland
The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy Book One
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.
Daughter of Sherwood
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Laura Strickland
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Tina Lynn Stout
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Publishing History
First English Tea Rose Edition, 2013
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-917-9
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-918-6
The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy, Book One
Published in the United States of America
Also by Laura Strickland
DEVIL BLACK
Disgraced in her father's eyes, Isobel Maitland travels to Scotland to purchase her sister's happiness at the cost of her own. But when she is abducted by a dangerous highwayman, she faces an unexpected choice: suffer the loveless union to which she has resigned herself, or marry this ruthless, Scottish outlaw who can ignite her desire with a single touch.
~available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
…
“A fascinating historical world, and engaging characters,…some brilliant lines of dialogue and a few laugh-out-loud moments, to ease the tension from the underlying violence. …genuine characters…all very vivid and real, each fully realized with distinct personalities. …A violent, harsh, racy, and utterly compelling and gripping tale. I defy anyone to put the book down before they finish reading it.”
~Helen, Love Romances and More (4.5 Hearts)
“I’m a sucker for historical romances. The hero was exactly as he should be. …The long hair and the kilts, oh my! …This was a good read and I’d recommend it to my friends who enjoy historicals chalk [sic] full of adventure, intrigue and set in the Scottish Highlands. I’ll be keeping an eye out to see more from this author as well!”
~Hydrangea, Long and Short Reviews (4 Stars)
Dedication
For my daughter, Alix, with many thanks
for all the hours spent together with Robin.
Chapter One
Nottingham Castle—April 1216
“The Sheriff of Nottingham is dying, and Geofrey of Oakham is dead.”
The stark words penetrated Rennie’s sleep the way hunger might, or a bad ache. Uttered in a deep, smoky voice, they wove through her senses and drew her irresistibly to wakefulness.
She opened her eyes and stared into the soft dimness of the flagged scullery. A virtual womb, this place was—a hard womb paved with stone and furnished with the great, granite sink to which Rennie spent her days spiritually shackled. A comfortless place, but the only home she had ever known.
She did not recognize the man’s voice that whispered from beyond the scullery doorway, yet something about it pulled her. She sat up in her nest of blankets, tangled brown hair swinging behind her like a mane.
Who was Geofrey of Oakham? The Sheriff of Nottingham, she knew—God take his rotting hide! He was master of this place and, she supposed, of Nottingham proper, answerable only to King John, and also a cruel, soulless hulk, dispossessed of even one part mercy.
“Geofrey?” A second voice, and one Rennie knew right well. Aye, and she should—had not old Lil raised Rennie from a pup and provided the only love she had ever known? Now Lil sounded shaken and grieved over the passing of this stranger. But who brought her the news, and why come in the dead of night while Nottingham’s vast kitchen slept? “What befell him?”
“A sudden turn,” answered the first voice that so affected Rennie’s mind. “He arose this morning, spoke his prayers, and then fell as if touched by the hand of the god. I came to you as soon as I could.”
“Ah.” The weight of grief carried in Lil’s voice increased. “I should have known! How could I fail to tell? My powers must have betrayed me.”
Her visitor snorted. “As if that could ever happen!”
“It can, and it will. You know that as well as I. Is it not why you have come to me?”
The male voice became tentative. “I only brought you the news that affects you so deeply. But, Lil, do you see what this means?”
Lil ignored the question. “I would that I might have seen him one last time. A good man, Geofrey. A man I loved.”
“I know. It is, after all, love that kept the circle strong. I am sorry for your grief. But we cannot let the warding of Sherwood waver or, worse, fail. I have come for the girl.”
“Rennie?” Lil’s tone sharpened. “It is far too soon!’
Rennie stiffened at the sound of her name, and kicked her blankets aside.
“Hush!” The man must have ears like a stag. “What was that?”
“Naught, Sparrow. Everyone sleeps.”
Sparrow? Rennie frowned and her body tensed. She had never before heard the name.
The man’s voice lowered to a whisper Rennie barely caught. “For these last three years you have told us it is too soon for the girl to come to us. Now there is no choice. With the circle sundered, the spell shattered, we are all in danger. We need her, Lil—you know that.”
Rennie scrambled up. Her bare feet made no sound as she left her corner of the scullery for the maw of the great, shadowed kitchen, where Lil always slept.
Lil was undisputed queen of this place and had run it as long as Rennie could remember. She ruled her kingdom with firm kindness, but when Rennie’s eyes found her now, she looked, for the first time, old.
And the man beside her—
The desire, the need to see him had prodded Rennie from her bed, but now there was very little to see. For he came swathed in a cloak and hood that covered his hair and obscured his face. But he had striking hands, broad in the palms, long-fingered and graceful, those of a young man.
His head lifted when Rennie appeared in the doorway; he came to his feet swiftly, as if drawn by strings. For a moment suspended in time they stood so, regarding one another. Then Lil swore softly.
“By the Green Man’s horns, lass—you should be asleep.”
“Who is this?” Rennie could feel his gaze all over her—the length of her hair, her hands, face and bosom—personal as a touch. His regard made her tingle disconcertingly. She turned to Lil in challenge. “Why is he here?”
Lil clacked her tongue. Rennie, who had been with Lil since birth, could discern the old woman’s moods as well as her own and knew Lil to now be much overset. The news brought by the hooded man had disturbed her deeply.
“Sit, child. Do not wake anyone else.”
Disobedient, as she so often was, Rennie remained standing. “Tell me first who he is.”
Lil got to her feet. A small woman, she still moved like a girl despite her advanced years. Rennie had often wondered if Lil did not carry some fairy blood. Her tiny stature, her strength in spite of it, her ability to command others, persuade them to do her bidding, and the very magic that swirled around her, all argued it. She must have been beautiful in her youth. Now her hair had turned dove gray, and the green of her eyes had faded except when angered, as now.
“Sit, for pity’s sake, and be quiet. Do you want him discovered?”
“I do not know. Do I?” But Rennie sat, folding her long legs under her and tossing her hair over her shoulder.
The man still had not taken his eyes from her, and his regard made her feel naked. Aye, and the only male who had ever made her feel more uncomfortable that way was Lambert, the captain of the Sheriff’s guard.
“This is she?” the hooded man breathed. “Not what I expected.”
“No? And what did you expect?” Rennie threw the words at him like knives. She did not like men. Despite the awareness washing over her in waves, she did not like him.
In an unexpected move, he pushed the hood back onto his shoulders, and Rennie found herself blinking in surprise.
Ah, and he was not what she expected, either. For the face thus revealed did not, somehow, match the deep, smoky voice or the awareness streaming off him.
He looked ordinary. It might be the face of any peasant: a broad forehead, narrow chin, unexceptional nose. Rennie saw strength in the weight of bone—aye, he was not a small man—but that was all, save for straight brown hair, now messed by the hood, and brilliant, dark eyes set beneath strongly marked brows.
Then he smiled, and Rennie caught her breath.
The smile held a singular sweetness, somehow at odds with his rough appearance. Not ordinary, then—no, not he.
He said softly, “I suppose I imagined you would be cowed and broken, raised here in the den of the devil himself.”
“And why should you imagine me at all?”
He gave Lil a sharp look. “She does not know—?”
Lil scowled. “Of course not. ’Tis no burden to lay upon a child.”
His gaze brushed Rennie again. “This is no child.”
Lil regarded Rennie also, her expression grave. “You are right. The years slipped away from me, and keeping her safe seemed more important than anything else.”
“What—?” Rennie began again.
The visitor interrupted. “But we need her, Lil. We need her now. Martin went at once after Geofrey’s death and consulted with Alric. With the triad broken, she must be ready to take her place.”
“Who is Alric? What is this ‘triad’?” Impatiently, Rennie leaned toward the man. “What do I need to know?”
“Hush, child!” Lil told her again.
Rennie bristled. The restlessness she had felt so often lately translated easily to irritation. She had never taken the word “no” well—now she clashed eyes and wills with Lil, who sighed.
“Perhaps you are right, Sparrow. It becomes increasingly difficult to hide her light.”
“Aye.” The man’s gaze touched Rennie yet again. “It fair shines from her.”
“I needs must tell her all.”
“Tell me!” Rennie demanded.
“But not here. And, lad, it is far too dangerous for you to linger. I will bring her later this morning.”
“Where?”
“The hollow near Oakham. Best to have Martin there.”
“As if I could keep him away!”
“And Alric also, if you can manage it.”
“That may prove more difficult.”
“It is all difficult.”
Sparrow shifted his weight lightly. “You will tell her?”
“Aye, but such things cannot be spoken here where the walls have ears. Now, lad, go—we shall see you anon.”
He moved off and disappeared into the shadows that cloaked the kitchen, gone as completely as if he had never been. Rennie blinked.
“Lil—”
“Quiet!” Lil jerked her head toward the scullery.
Rennie moved back into the dank room she considered both sanctuary and prison. For as long as she could remember she had inhabited this place, and she loathed it—lightless, airless, the very atmosphere heavy as chains, an endless stream of hand-chafing, back-breaking labor from first light to last. She detested the damp and the smell of the salt-scrub and rotten food. She resented that her only refuge was a nest of blankets worthy of the rats that came to steal crumbs.