A foreign usurper. A lady who longs for freedom. Vicious beasts who want to rip them all to shreds. Who wins?
Never one to shy from a challenge, Lord Tristan Petram took possession of a forsaken castle. Only hints remain of the treachery that forced its abandonment. But if he and his followers can forge a life hereâand hold out against ravenous vixicatsâthe castle and this land will be theirs. As for the nearest kingdom, they never venture beyond their border or the mysterious forest of tower trees. Except...
Beth dons a disguise and takes a forbidden ride in Tower Woods. Her fun adventure turns into a nightmare of kidnap and rescueâof sorts. Now sheâs trapped in a nameless castle held by a foreign usurper. What will he do with her if he finds out who she really is?
Thus, Lord Petram finds himself the unwilling guardian of an injured lady who wonât give her full name. A crime he didnât commit may bring retribution from an unknown kingdom. Do they have a claim to this castle that he now calls home? If he survives the vixicats, will an army slaughter him and his followers?
A foreign usurper. A lady who longs for freedom. Vicious beasts who want to rip them all to shreds. Who wins?
Never one to shy from a challenge, Lord Tristan Petram took possession of a forsaken castle. Only hints remain of the treachery that forced its abandonment. But if he and his followers can forge a life hereâand hold out against ravenous vixicatsâthe castle and this land will be theirs. As for the nearest kingdom, they never venture beyond their border or the mysterious forest of tower trees. Except...
Beth dons a disguise and takes a forbidden ride in Tower Woods. Her fun adventure turns into a nightmare of kidnap and rescueâof sorts. Now sheâs trapped in a nameless castle held by a foreign usurper. What will he do with her if he finds out who she really is?
Thus, Lord Petram finds himself the unwilling guardian of an injured lady who wonât give her full name. A crime he didnât commit may bring retribution from an unknown kingdom. Do they have a claim to this castle that he now calls home? If he survives the vixicats, will an army slaughter him and his followers?
Booted footsteps echoed down the stone passage. The long, firm stride of a warrior. âTwas a familiar sound in this once-deserted castle.
Tristan gave it little heed, for yellowed mapsâmarked with dates of vixicat fightsâengrossed him and the men beside him. Candles perched on iron stands, scenting the air with beeswax. Tristanâs signet ring flickered gold in their light as he pulled a map nearer.
The footsteps halted. A high-pitched voice uttered a faint protest, jerking Tristanâs gaze up. His men turnedâas stunned as heâfor no women dwelled here.
Captain Cotrell stood in the open doorway, a muddied woman in his arms. âWe are discovered, my lord.â
Unwelcome words. Tristan met his troubled gaze across the room. Sweat and dust etched the lines of Cotrellâs face and his chestnut beard. Dried blood stained the sleeve of his homespun shirt.
The womanâs terrified eyes darted from face to face.
 âExplain,â Tristan said.
âWe came upon her when we were scouting Tower Woods. Three men had her tied by the hands to an overhead branch. They were shoving her back and forth between them, slashing her skirt, and telling her what they were about to do.â
Tristanâs fists clenched, hungry for sword and dagger. Nonetheless, he kept his face and voice steady. âWhat did you do with the brutes?â
âWe killed them. I was first into the clearing, and they all three made for me with daggers. Never retreated, though we were mounted and wielded swords. They were the sort of bullies who fight beyond reason.â
Tristan nodded. He didnât fault his men butâŚrepercussions? âWhat injuries?â
âFewânone deep,â Cotrell said. âWe couldnât leave her like that, so I cut the rope and lifted her onto my horse. Just then, one of my men saw a child looking down from a rock outcropping. He ran straightway, but he must have seen at least some of it.â
âA child, captain? How old?â
âAbout ten, Williams guessed.â
âWere none of your men able to catch this child and gain even a word from him?â
âNay, my lord. âTis all rugged old growth, and a fallen tower tree is impassable. Defensible woodland to one who knows the terrain, but no place to run a horse. We knew not how far the child had to go to fetch othersâor what sort they would beâso we headed back to the plain and returned with all haste.
Tristan let out a breath, his eyes on the young woman. Her wrists were bandaged. A strip of cloth anchored her arms to her chest. Dried mud caked her shredded skirt, and the bodice lacing had been cut through. Her dark, tangled hair was matted on one side of her headâwith both blood and dirt, by the look of it. âA long ride,â Tristan said. âAnd bound?â
âShe fights, my lord.â
Tristan gestured toward a heavy wooden chair by the stone wall. âPut her down and free her.â
She held her head stiffly angled as Cotrell placed her in the chair. Perhaps both head and neck were injured. She clamped her lips as Cotrellâs hunting knife bit into the strip of blanket binding her arms.
 âJames,â Tristan said, âsee that the blue and white chamber is prepared for her. Search among the chests for womenâs clothing. Provide her with a bath and hot water. No one is to disturb her privacy.â
âAye, my lord.â James hastened from the room.
The woman didnât move from the chair as the strip of cloth fell away and Cotrell took a hurried step back from her.
âCaptain Cotrell,â Tristan said, âget into uniform, and tell the men to, as well. There will be no more scouting in the guise of travelers. And send Chilton to me.â Turning to the other two captains who still waited near the table, he said, âWe must now assume that our presence is known, or soon will be. You know the plans weâve made. See to them.â
The men bowed and left. The room grew quiet as footsteps receded down the interior stone corridor.
The woman clenched her fists and straightened her back.
Tristan drew slowly nearer. Such pain and defiance in her eyes. âYou will not be harmed here,â he said. âDo you understand?â
She made no answer.
âI am Tristan Petram. What is your name?â
She left a long pause before answering with unnecessary force. âBeth.â
Again, that look of defiance, nay, of challenge. Amusement nudged his compassion, but he answered mildly. âOnly Beth? Nothing more?â
âI am but a peasantâs daughter. Why should there be more?â
He caught a foreign lilt in her speech. âEven peasant fathers have names,â Tristan said.
âHis name matters not to you.â
James returned, bearing a tray with a glass and wine bottle. âChilton is stitching a gash, Iâm told. Apparently, one of the hunting parties discovered a bear. He will come soon.â
âThe bear?â
James turned a quelling glance upon him. âChilton will, as you well know. As for the bearâŚâ He shrugged. âIts skin may yet travel, though not with its first owner. Her chamber will be ready presently.â
âOh, it was a she-bear?â
A stifled laugh caught in the womanâs throat.
âAh, that is better,â Tristan said, pouring wine. He handed it to his unwilling guest and noted that she took it daintily. Her trembling hand nearly spilled the wine as she sipped. James must have seen that, too, for he moved a small table near her chair.
âBeth, this is James. He will bring you whatever you need. I regret I cannot offer you a maidservant. We brought no women with us.â
She murmured, ââTwill do.â
His amusement stirred again. This peasant girl considered a servant to be a normal part of her life? But she was so pale that compassion kept him from comment. The wine glass clattered against the table as she set it down.
 âIâll take you to your chamber.â Tristan took a step nearer.
âNay! Iâll notââ She stood with unwise haste and swayed.
Tristan caught and lifted her. âAll will be well. You may rest until the dizziness passes.â He carried her down the stone passage, across the echoing marble hall, up broad flights of cedar stairs, and along a corridor.
James followed and opened the chamber door for them. A servant was spreading sheets over the curtained bed. More sheets and towels were stacked nearby. A fledgling fire in the hearth attempted to dispel the spring coolness from the room, and a bath stood before it.
Tristan lowered the woman gently onto an aged lounge, as James readied a cushion to support her head.
Her breaths came fast and panting. She began to struggle before her full weight settled on the lounge.
Tristan disengaged and stepped back from her. âBe still. You are safe.â
A desperate battle between bravery and tears contorted her face. She moved her hands stiffly, as though pained. When she touched her matted hair, she cringed. A sob caught behind her clamped lips.
Kitchen help entered, bearing buckets of hot water.
Beth began to turn her head toward the newcomers, a movement quickly arrested though she made not a sound. Her lower lip trembled.
Tristanâs chest tightened. He didnât want any woman in such distressâto see a woman of courage near her breaking point was harder yet. Chiltonâs arrival gave him some relief, but it was short lived. As the physician began to examine her head, Beth cried out in pain.
âThis must be cleaned,â Chilton said. âI wonât pretend that youâll enjoy it, miss, but it will heal more quickly once itâs clean. Iâll give you something first to ease the pain.â He poured from a vial, and Tristan withdrew, sending all but James and Chilton from the room.
Tristan paused for a moment outside her door as footsteps faded. What would this development bring?
 Perhaps it would not alter his plans, but best to think through possible ramifications. He strode past the carved arches of the corridor to the north tower, then climbed the spiral stairs to the mansionâs flat roof.
Certain, the time drew near to declare possession of this castle. That was not in doubt, but he wanted information first. Tristan paced along the decorative battlement, pondering, as a medley of sound drifted up from the bailey. Steady hammering from the distant smithy fell silent. Horse hooves clopped, and wooden cartwheels rattled over stone. Men called to one another, and the chains of the portcullises rang until both iron gates struck solid rock. Securing the castleâa daily occurrence, though earlier this evening.
Warmth spread through him as he halted by a broad gap in the parapet and surveyed the activity below. In truth, their routineâtheir diligent workâalready declared that this was their home. The new home he had led them to, in exchange for the familiar. He understood their longing, for he felt it himself. To hold land by their own efforts, rather than squeeze onto estates overfilled by bountiful families.
This they had accomplished. True, theyâd started with an abandoned castle, but they had cleared and rebuilt for months. No small effort. They deserved this home, earned with their sweat and their skill. Could anyone assert that it was not truly theirs?
Who lived in that distant forest? The womanâBethâwho was she really? How severe was her injury? What might come of her rescue and the killings?
His jaw clenched when he envisioned the scene Cotrell had described. Such beastly men would be hanged in Moorelin. Of course, this wasnât Moorelin. It wasnât any kingdom at all, but he was a son of that land and would have enforced the same law here.
Tower Woods, though. He knew nothing of that mysterious forest. Hadnât even known until an hour ago whether anyone lived among those massive trees. âTwas the reason heâd sent Cotrell to scout. Knowledge well worth having before declaring possession.
If this castle were anywhere else, their presence would already be known. Here, the rolling hills to the north and east hid even the highest towers. Not that any folk lived near enough to see them. The vixicats made sure of that. But to the south, the two central towers gave clear view of the empty plain. Could they be seen by those who lived on the edge of Tower Woods? Quite possible. Indeed, certain, if any local folk had vision as long as his. Â
Heâd been tempted to raise his colors last autumn when he led his tradesmen-archers within these gates. Common men by birth, but not by valor. Like that stable hand below who hefted water into the troughâhis eyebrow scarred. A year ago, heâd fought on while blood poured over one eye.
None could question their courage, but Tristan had yielded to his captainsâ advice of maintaining a discreet arrival. No sense in rousing a potential battle until they had time to prepare. Better to first clear the encroaching forest from the perimeter and establish provisioning. Wise counsel, for it also gave him time to learn whether the castleâs dangerous reputation was warranted. It would be insanity to fight for a castle if the land could not be tamed enough to support them.
Now, they had cleared a swath of forest, opened an old road, replaced a bridge, and rebuilt damaged structures. The forest cloaked itself in fresh greenery, wild herbs sprouted, and woodland bushes produced a bounty of early berries. The married men within his entourage spoke of fetching their families.
Regardless of Bethâs unexpected arrival, it was time to raise his colors on the tower masts. Not just to declare that he held this castle. This simple act would give recognition to the accomplishments of every man hereâeven though the only audience was within the castle.
Tristanâs gaze traveled the wall. Five corner towers and two gate towers. He turned and bent his neck to look up at the peaked roofs of the mansionâs twin towers. The only two that could be seen across the plain. He wished more than ever to know who he might need to deal with in that distant woods. Had Cotrell just encountered outlaws living at the fringe of Lavaycia? Or was that country a lawless, violent land? Did they have anything to do with this castle standing empty for nigh seventy years?
Tristan turned back to the mansionâs parapet and looked across the bailey. Men in indigo uniforms emerged from towers and took up positions around the walls. Shafts of sunlight found gaps in the horizon clouds behind him and made the fair stone of the gatehouse towers glow. Since their arrival, this was the first time he had ordered his men to don uniforms. Those not on the walls gathered in the baily. Waiting. He must act before the sun set.
Tristan descended the mansionâs north tower. A pity he couldnât summon James to join in this brief event, but Bethâs need took precedence. He stopped by his bedchamber, threw his jerkin aside, and pulled on a formal, black doublet. Two flights of stairs took him to the ornate entrance hall. He flung open the arched double doors and strode across the courtyard. A breeze stirred his hair.
Even more men gathered now. His three captainsâCotrell, Wellinstine, and DâJorgeâclimbed the central terrace steps to the courtyard. They, too, knew what was necessary, for his indigo and silver pennants were draped over Wellinstineâs arm.
A thrill coursed through Tristan. He looked over the men in the bailey, his gaze coming to rest on his captainsâ faces, Pride swelledâfor what all of them had accomplished. He could no longer hold his smile back. âWe have done it, my friends.â
They inclined their heads in silence. Cotrellâs firm smile, the glint in Wellinstineâs eyes, and DâJorgeâs audible exhalation, told that they shared his feelings.
âWeâll raise the colors all together. Cotrell, you and I in the gatehouse towers. You two in the south corners.â Tristan called three other men to join them and assigned each to a wall tower, as Wellinstine distributed banners among the group. Tristan discreetly took the two extra pennants and said, âAll of you, watch the gate towers. As soon as you see color on the masts, raise yours. Let us make haste ere the sun sets.â
They parted, each to climb a different set of circular stone steps. Tristan reached the flat top of a gate tower and attached a pennant to a line hanging from the mast. He shielded his eyes to check each tower, then looked across at Cotrell, who nodded. The thrill returned, coursing across Tristanâs shoulders and arms. He reached high up the rope and pulled hard. His colors unfurled in the breeze, lit by the setting sun. A deep cheer of âMorrah!â thundered behind him. He laughed in exultation as he finished raising and tied off.
His gaze circled the towers, now crowned with indigo and silver. He and Cotrell exchanged a satisfied glance across the open air, then walked to the parapets to look down on the men gathered below.
When they saw him, his men shouted again. âMorrah!â
He tilted his head back and let loose from the depths of his lungs. âMorrah!â
The third cheer of Morrah echoed from every voice in the castle, as though the walls themselves joined the cheer.
Never had Tristan felt anything like this moment!
~~~
Captain Cotrell met Tristan at the base of the gate tower and clasped forearms with him. Â Turning his head so no one would hear, he asked, âWhere are the twin peak pennants?â
âWithin my doublet.â
âAnd they will stay there?â
Tristan nodded. âWeâll speak of them later.â Torches flickered to life all around the walls, and someone tuned a vielle. âI must go see how our guest fares.â Tristan tapped his doublet. âAnd lay aside this stuffing. Enjoy this moment among the men. I will rejoin you soon.â
Tristan strode around the crowd and ran up the side steps onto the courtyard. Lanterns glowed on either side of the archway. Inside, one of his few household servants lit the hallâs gilded sconces.
The elegance still amazed him. White marble floor and walls. Black marble fireplace and balustrade, which ran up twin curved staircases and around the gallery above. Artwork, furnishings, an exquisite crystal chandelier⌠He shook his head. The textiles were even indigo, as though the hall had been designed with his colors in mind. He couldnât climb these stairs without marveling that such a gem had been abandoned.
Not that it was perfect. The woods were as wild as their name. Plenty of game, but the wolves and bears were just as plentifulâand huge. Still, they shrank in comparison to the vixicats. Never would Tristan forget the night before heâd found this castle. That black beastâso enormous it killed a horse with one bite and dragged it off through the woods.
When Tristan reached the third floor, Chilton was coming along the corridor from the blue bedchamber. Tristan met him and asked, âHow badly is she hurt?â
The hint of a snarl infused his answer. âSomeone must have used a cudgel on her head. âTis a wonder he didnât break her skull.â Chilton paused, then continued with less heat. âThere is considerable stiffness in her neck, I hope just strained muscles. Her wrists are raw from coarse rope. Elsewhere, she is bruised and aching, but that will pass soon. The head injury, thoughâŚâ Chilton shook his head. âThat is a worry. Time will tell. Iâd like to get my hands on the cur who did that.â
âHeâs already a corpse, I gather.â
âGood! She stays in bed until the dizziness and nausea pass. I left a soothing dose in case she becomes agitated. James knows what to do for her.â
âMy thanks.â
Chilton strode off, and Tristan went to tap on her bedchamber door. James opened to him, then returned to shaking out old-fashioned gowns and hanging them to air. A cedar chest and several drawers stood open, with all manner of feminine clothing draped over their edges.
Tristan drew near the bed. The light of an oil lamp revealed the sheen of a robe that swaddled Beth. She lay with eyes closed and face still, looking more like a child than a woman. Dusky, wet hair curled around the cloth that held a pad against her head. Her wrists were freshly bandaged, her long fingers and manicured nails pale against the dark coverlet. Neither work nor time had marked them.
She turned her head in her sleep, then moaned and opened her eyes. Confusion passed over her features. âWhere am I?â she asked, slurring her words.
âYou are safe, child. Rest now. There is no need to talk.â
She stared at him for a long moment and then closed her eyes again.
~~~
When festivities in the bailey quieted, Tristan gathered his three captains and sent for James to join them in the library. âTwas a common enough ritual, so five leather armchairs awaited them in a half circle around the hearth.
James arrived with one of the aged bottles of wine discovered in the cellar. Indeed, this evening warranted something special. He took glasses from the sideboard, poured into one, then served Tristan.
âThank you.â Tristan waited while the others served themselves and returned to the crackling fire. He raised his glass and said, âTo the castle we have awakened and now hold.â
Glasses clinked, then the men settled in the waiting chairs. Talk of the celebration fed the warmth Tristan savored withinâsuccess among friends in a shared endeavor.
Wellinstine lifted his head from the high back of the chair, his short, tight curls undisturbed as always. ââTis well for now,â he said, âbut there is still more to be done before we can bring our families.â
Cotrell looked to Tristan. âWhat think you of raising your colors on the highest towers?â
âWhat, indeed?â Tristan replied. âTell me more of Tower Woods.â
âThose trees youâve all seen through the distance glassâŚâ Cotrell scanned their faces, his brows high. âThey are even more astonishing up close. There are a few different types, but the biggestâŚâ He huffed out a breath. âTheir trunks are broader than our wall towers! Fallen trees pull up huge root clumps, which all the greens of the forest colonize. Plants even grow up from the rotting trunks. Stranger still, the trees donât always reach the forest floor when they fall. At times, it seemed that we were riding under the forest, as well as through it.â
The call of adventure surged within Tristan. Yet a visit must wait, though he longed to see such a strange land. âSmall wonder you wouldnât run a horse there.â
 âWe could not, butâŚâ Cotrellâs brow furrowed. âI suspect that those who know the woods could travel well enough. The tower trees are widely spaced, with cedars, maples, and such between. The place where we found the young woman had been cleared. It had a firepit and signs of frequent use.â
âDid you see hints of settlement elsewhere?â Tristan asked.
âNay.â Cotrell sounded disappointed. âWe camped the night before on the plain and rode into the forest soon after dawn. Very slow going, for I wanted to make sure we could get out quickly if need be. We werenât more than a few miles into the woods when we found her.â
Not far, even on foot. âIf anyone saw that you turned northward,â Tristan said, âthey could soon reach the plain.â
âAye. They could follow our tracks as well.â
âUnfortunate,â Wellinstine said. âWere you able to see the peaked towers from across the plain?â
âAye, tiny, but I found them. Of course, I knew where to look. The plain dips between the two forests like a wide, shallow trough, and a stream runs down the middle toward the sea. When one looks toward The Wilde from the far side, âtis the height of the ridge that commands the eye, not this castle.â
Tristan watched the flames licking over logs on the hearth. âWould the pennants even be visible from the edge of Tower Woods?â
âProbably not,â Cotrell said. âThough, if a strong wind set them to flapping and someone had long visionâŚmaybe.â
âDonât forget,â DâJorge said, âthat they could have a distance glass. That may not be likely, but it is possible.â
Cotrell flexed and rolled his shoulders as though they were stiffening. âRegardless, a traveler crossing the plain would see them at some point. When the sun is low, the peaked towers brighten on their sunward curve. Even at midday, a glint sometimes catches one angle or another.â
âI still donât like it,â Wellinstine said. âThe towers of this castle have been bare for a generation. If we raise colors on the peaks, we will informâŚwhomâŚa country of ruffiansâŚthat the castle is now occupied?â
âDonât assume too much.â DâJorge rose to throw another log on the fire, and the long tail of his hair swung. ââTis not unusual for a few of the bad sort to hang on the fringes of ordinary folk.â
Tristan waited for the typical quip, but DâJorge must have exhausted them all in the bailey. âTrue.â Tristan took another sip. âOur situation has not changed. We have confirmed only that folk live in Tower Woods, but nothing about them.â
Cotrellâs voice dipped low. ââTwill be difficult to learn anything more. Even if the terrain were passable, none of the folk will trust us, for we have killed three of them. I ask your pardon, my lord.â
âFor what?â Tristan met his gaze. âYou had no choice but to rescue and defend the young woman. I would have had you do nothing else.â
âI just wish I could have found a subtler method. And a gentler way to bring her to safety. Iâm sure she thought us no different than the creatures we rescued her from, for all we tried to reassure her.â
âWhat did she say?â Tristan asked.
âNot a word. Wouldnât even tell me her name. I got her to drink a little water, but she refused our trail food. How does she fare?â
âThe head injury is the worst of it. Chilton has tended her, and she sleeps now. As for her nameâŚâ Tristan watched candlelight flicker through the pale rose wine in his glass. âShe gave me the name of Beth, though I am not convinced it is accurate.â
âWhy?â James asked.
âShe also told me she is a peasant, then unconsciously revealed that she expected a servant.â
âWe should remember that she was in pain,â James said.
âIndeed. Also confused and terrified, but not without courage. Her error need not be repeated beyond us.â Tristan sipped again. âUntil we know more, address her as Miss. I will protect her reputation as well as her virtue. No one may enter her bedchamber, save James, Chilton, and me. Her door will remain locked. James will have one key, and I the other. When she has recovered enough to be about, every man in this castle will treat her with respect, as befits the men of Moorelin. When she knows she is safe, she may tell us of our neighbors.â
âThat could take time.â Cotrell finished his wine. âWhat of your colors on the twin peaks?â
Tristan compressed his lips and exhaled. He didnât care for the obvious answer. âIâm sure weâd all like to be done with secrecy, but that is only a feeling. Nothing has actually changed. I still wish to know with whom we dealâbefore we reveal our presence. Perhaps, in a week or two, weâll know more.â
All four men concurred with silent nods, then Tristan turned to Wellinstine. âThe plain must be watched from dawn to sunset. Arrange a rotation of the men to stand watch with the distance glass in the south tower. If anyone steps onto that plain, I want to know.â
Lord Tristan Petram has found the unthinkable. A castle that has been forsaken, in the middle of nowhere that is unguarded. He establishes himself in the castle with a few of his men, not knowing the full extent of the dangers that surround him. They must hole the castle until he can get word back home that the place is safe for the rest of his men and their families to join him.
While out patrolling the nearby woods, Lord Petram's men come across a woman in need of rescue from some scoundrels. They do the job and bring the injured woman back to the castle where Lord Petram resides. She will not answer his questions and she seems more than eager to leave, despite clearly not being familiar with the dangers of the woods and areas around her. She will only tell Tristan that her name is Beth. Tristan suspects that there is much more to her story than she lets on.
The book is a faced paced read and manages to provide twists and turns without falling into tropes. The setting is well-realized as are the politics surrounding the situation. Tristan and Beth are able to get close to one another without it seeming forced or unrealistic. Beth has good reason for keeping her identity from Tristan just as Tristan is justified in most of the actions he takes making for well-developed characters that are easy to empathize with.
In some ways this book is reminiscent of Outlander although, without time travel components and a little more grounded in reality. If you are a fan of fantasy fiction with a little bit of romance, fights with deadly beasts, and intriguing kingdom politics this book is for you. I look forward to seeing where the series takes us next.