First Chapter: The Witch of Rathborne Castle by Virginia Barlow

By Virginia Barlow

Title: THE WITCH OF RATHBORNE CASTLE
Author: Virginia Barlow
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Pages: 330
Genre: Paranormal Romance

BOOK BLURB:

Lady Jane Lenwood is abandoned and alone in an empty castle in the middle of a dark twisted forest. The locals call her a witch because she has the “sight.”

When a wounded stranger is found within the gates, she is warned he carries secrets and their lives will be intertwined.

Lady Jane walks with a limp following a riding accident the night her mother left her. And had given up on having a normal life. She blames her misfortune on the current Duke of Rathborne.

Max Radley is sent by the king to find a traitor. His search leads him to Rathborne Castle and the beautiful woman living there. He must keep his identity a secret in order to find the traitor.

Lies, deception, and a grand scheme to relieve him of his wealth have the real villians framing him for treason.

Only Jane and her supernatural ability can save him, but in order to find the answer she must face her past and the feeling she has for him.

The Witch of Rathborne Castle is a riveting historical paranormal romance from start to finish. I hadn’t read more than a few pages before I was hooked. The plot unfolds at a nice easy pace with descriptive narration and a heroine to root for. Lady Jane is a mysterious character and her backstory plucked at my heartstrings. Max is a hero on a mission. Can he root out the traitor? The stakes are high for both Jane and Max which added to the anticipation. I did find the obstacles Jane and Max have to face a little over the top. But with each obstacle, they drew closer as a couple. There’s a wonderful gothic vibe to this story. There are quite a few twists I didn’t see coming, especially near the end. I may have gasped a few times. The ending was so unexpected, I got a little emotional. The Witch of Rathborne Castle is an engrossing historical romance with paranormal elements I thoroughly enjoyed reading. Fans of both historical romance and paranormal romance will love The Witch of Rathborne Castle. Reminiscent of classical historicals romance from the ’90s, The Witch of Rathborne Castle will sweep the reader away. Highly recommend! – N.N.Light’s Book Heaven Five Star Review

~ Chapter 1 ~

 

England, 1739

 

It all started with the wind.

The gentle autumn breeze picked up speed and switched direction. Lady Jane Lenwood glanced up as storm clouds darkened the sky. The air turned frigid. She shivered and tucked the ends of her shawl tighter around her. Gripping the head of her cane, Jane continued her walk, focusing on the cobblestones beneath her feet instead of the pain. The wind tugged at her hair and long woolen skirts, making an already difficult situation harder. The colder it got, the more strenuous her walk became. She would finish despite the opposition.

Jane glanced toward the castle. Where was Thomas, her footman? She required her cloak if she were to stay out much longer. She clasped a hand to her bosom to hold her shawl in place. The end of her nose was numb, and her eyes watered from the bite in the wind. Jane slid her foot forward, leaning heavily on her cane.

Winter comes, the voice in her head whispered.

Jane frowned. It was the first week of October and too early for snow. She sniffed the air. The crisp scent of frost filled her nostrils. With a sigh, she continued her walk. She thought she had a few more weeks to enjoy the sun before winter forced her indoors.

Danger approaches…There is blood and death. Take caution.

Jane stopped. Where? Chills raced down her spine. She searched the courtyard carefully, listening for any unusual sounds. Gray stone walls rose high above her on every side, gleaming in the dimming light. Gray cobblestones lie beneath her feet. There was silence. She was alone like she was every evening when she walked.

The scene was familiar, solid, and safe. Jane trembled despite the comfort her surroundings provided. The voice in her head was never wrong.

A stranger enters your world.

She waited. Dried leaves scratched the cobblestones as the wind twirled them in tight circles at her feet.

 He comes through the gate.

Jane turned toward the front of the castle. Strangers were no longer welcome. She would cast this one out the same as the others. The rusty scent of blood drifted past on the breeze. Her breath hitched. Just what she needed. The wounded stranger must be dealt with. She moved forward. Her lips pinched together as pain raced up her leg.

The stranger is dangerous and determined.

Approaching footsteps drew her attention. Jane turned sharply toward them.

Alfred, her gray-haired butler, appeared beside her with her heavy fur-lined cloak. “Here, my lady. I thought you might need this.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Jane sighed with relief and threw the cloak over her shoulders. She tied the strings beneath her chin.

 Death approaches from the forest.

“Will you be coming in now, my lady? It looks like a thunderstorm.” Alfred gazed up at the sky.

“No. Come with me.” She hobbled forward.

Alfred paused. “Is something wrong?”

Nothing will be the same.

Jane looked up at the darkening sky. Already things were different. “There is danger. It comes from the gate.”

“Should I fetch a sword, my lady?” He stayed close to her side, glancing around them with concern.

Her leg ached, and the wind grew stronger. Jane leaned forward. The voice urged her toward the front of the castle.

Hurry. Hurry.

“No. We have not the time.” Jane gritted her teeth and took another step. The wind blew her hood from her head. She reached for it as Thomas, her footman, hurried toward them. “My lady, there’s a man inside the castle wall.” Thomas waved his arms to get their attention. He was a stout man with red hair and freckles in his early twenties. He came to them from the village as a lad.

The stranger is dark and full of secrets.

“What does he want? Did you ask why he trespassed on Rathborne property?” Jane asked when Thomas stopped beside her, breathing heavily from his run.

“He would not answer me if I did. He is wounded, my lady. There is blood everywhere.”

Death waits beneath the trees.

Jane stopped. “Is he alive? How bad are his injuries?” She glanced toward the gate. Thomas shuffled his feet. “I don’t know, my lady, I didn’t get close enough to see.”

“Why not?” Jane took another painful step and waited. The wind whipped her skirts against her legs. “If he can stand on his own, he can leave on his own. I do not want him here.” Fear pricked the hair on her neck.

Thomas gazed at her with wild, terrified eyes. “He was not standing, my lady, and I do not think he will be going anywhere. There are wolves outside the gate.”

Jane’s gaze snapped to his. “Wolves? There have not been wolves in England for years. You must be mistaken.”

Thomas glanced nervously toward the gate. “There’s no mistake, my lady. I saw them.”

“There was talk in the village, Lady Jane. A huntsman said a pack migrated from Scotland recently. He tracked them through the forest.” Alfred stood by her side. He, too, glanced toward the gate in the wall.

They are hungry.

Jane shuffled forward. “Show me.” Her apprehension increased with every step.

Thomas nodded.

As they made their way toward the front gate, Jane’s gaze caught on the form of the man on the ground—Jane frowned. It was as Thomas said. He was not on his own two feet. She clutched the head of her cane. Indecision furrowed her brow.

He requires your help.

Jane grimaced. She detested visitors, especially those who reeked of secrets. Who was this person, and why was he in her forest? She shuffled down the long cobblestone drive to the heavy front gates, ignoring the throbbing in her knee.

“Is this man the danger you fear, or is it—?” Alfred stopped short. His mouth gaped open as he pointed in front of them. “Good lord!”

A movement across the road beneath the trees caught her attention.

Wolves!

Jane froze, her heart thumping wildly in her breast. Thomas was right! There were wolves in her forest! Why were they so close to the castle? Her gaze caught on the figure on the ground.

They have many mouths to feed.

“The wolves smell the blood!” Jane lifted her gaze back to the trees.

Several sets of yellow eyes stared back from beneath the dark, twisted branches. A large male stepped out onto the stark, overgrown road in front of the gate. He bristled and snarled, warning her to stay away.

Jane put a hand over her stomach to quell her nervousness and motioned for Thomas to come closer. “See if the stranger is alive. Be vigilant. The gate appears to be latched shut. The beasts cannot enter the grounds if it is. If he is alive, bring him along. We must get him inside before nightfall.”

Thomas nodded and made his way toward the figure on the ground. He kept his attention on the large alpha challenging him from across the road.

“Are you sure we should bring him in, my lady?” Alfred asked quietly.

Jane nodded. “I am urged to do so. Whatever threatens us, it is not this man. We must help him.” She shivered as Thomas bent over the man.

Thomas waved a hand at her and grabbed the figure by the arms. He pulled the stranger toward them, keeping his gaze on the wolves.

Alfred hurried forward and grabbed the stranger’s other arm.

Together they pulled him toward the castle.

Clutching her cloak closer, Jane motioned for them to go ahead of her.

The large alpha howled, and several pack members joined in. Ice trickled down her spine. Jane looked up as more of the pack joined the alpha in the road. The ground vibrated with their snarls. Fear clutched her heart like the twisted branches of the dark forest before her. The giant beasts were not happy to see their prey taken away.

 They cannot get in.

The pack charged the gate, and Jane’s life flashed before her in slow motion. She cried out as the metal gates clanked and groaned with the force of the impact.

The sharp sound shot across the empty castle grounds.

“It held. The gate held,” Jane whispered, as she wiped the perspiration from her forehead. The wolves paced back and forth on the empty forest road. Their haunting yellow eyes glowed in the semi-darkness of the evening. Coarse hair on their backs stood on end.

The temperature dipped lower with the setting sun.

Jane held her cloak together with one hand while she gripped her cane with the other. She followed the men as swiftly as she could.

The wolves howled. Their eerie cries filled the silence of the night.

Jane glanced over her shoulder.

The beasts congregated in front of the castle gate, showing their razor-sharp teeth, and following the trio’s progress toward the castle with their strange yellow eyes.

Jane turned her attention to the path in front of her and the stranger. The intruder was a large man, half again as large as Thomas, and equally so of Alfred. He had a broad chest and heavily muscled thighs. Blood covered the side of his face and poured from a wound on his leg. An arrow protruded from his upper chest. Blood soaked the front of his clothing.

Jane’s gaze narrowed on the shaft of the arrow. He brought trouble with him. Who was he? He was not a nobleman, or he would have servants with him. He was not a servant either. The quality of his clothing was too fine. The only assumption she could make was he must be a merchant or a scholar.

He comes to Rathborne searching.

Jane frowned. Searching for what? Both men struggled as they dragged the man toward the castle. The going was slow.

The brisk pace she forced her leg to make made it difficult to breathe. She required all her strength to keep up. The wind plastered her skirts against her legs. The smell of death disappeared, but her fear did not. She stopped. It was not the wolves causing her anxiety. When she directed her thoughts toward them, there was nothing.

Jane frowned. What then? The pack would leave as soon as the smell of blood disappeared. Jane glanced at the stranger again. She would have to allow him to stay long enough to heal. Her lips twisted. The last thing she required was wolves or visitors. Her nose twitched. The scent of danger rode high on the evening air, but it did not come from the stranger or the wolves. Did another come? Or was it the people in the village?

The tension between the villagers and her was high. Ever since the incident with the young boy, they feared her. They believed Jane was a witch, cunning and evil. She looked the part with her dark cloak, bent over form, and crooked cane.

Rathborne Castle itself was menacing and sinister. With no coin to buy candles, the tall, impressive structure loomed darkly over the village below. Jane could not afford workmen to cut the forest back, so it grew thick and gnarly right up to the castle walls. It was black, overgrown, and a perfect backdrop for the superstitions the villagers harbored about the haunted castle and the witch who lived there.

Jane grimaced. Several times she journeyed to the village, hoping to settle the differences between them. It proved a futile effort. As soon as Jane’s carriage pulled onto the main street, there was a flurry of activity. The villagers grabbed their offspring and their spouses and disappeared. The only sound was running feet and the slamming of every door and shutter.

Jane shook her head. They threatened to burn her on more than one occasion.

The last legal execution of a witch was in Scotland seventeen years prior. Since then, all witch trials stopped. But it did not put an end to the superstition or the rumors. There was no local militia or army to keep the villagers from taking justice into their own hands.

Thank the gods a few of the merchants were levelheaded. They demanded proof of Jane’s wrongs before they allowed her to be arrested or tried for witchcraft. Those sane individuals kept the rabble at bay.

The trio reached the steps of the castle as darkness settled around them.

Jane pulled the latch on the heavy oak door and stepped back to allow Alfred and Thomas to carry the stranger inside.

“Put him in the dungeon,” Jane commanded, as she swung her heavy cloak from her shoulders and hung it on the peg beside the door. She leaned against the dark stone to catch her breath. The wind was fierce. She trembled from her exertion in fighting it.

Alfred glanced at Jane in surprise. “The dungeon, my lady?”

Jane nodded. “Yes, Alfred, the dungeon. I will tend his wounds there. I cannot afford to have a stranger wandering the castle. He must remain behind bars until I learn his intent.” Alfred nodded. His gaze was thoughtful.

Jane sank into a threadbare chair to rest her leg. “After you help Thomas take the stranger to the dungeon, bring my bag of medicine. I require clean cloth and warm water.” Jane stopped. “And bring a knife to cut the shaft of the arrow.”

“Of course, my lady.” Alfred and Thomas disappeared with their burden.

Jane waited until her trembling ceased and the ache in her leg eased. Her mind returned to the stranger.

Give the man aid. He must heal.

The words danced through her mind. Jane grimaced.

Alfred reappeared with her supplies. “Do you need help, my lady?”

Jane shook her head. “I will be fine.” She did not like the idea of a man in her castle. Alfred nodded and disappeared down the long corridor.

With a sigh of resignation, Jane rose to her feet. She did not like it, but what choice did she have? Her cane tapped on the wooden floor as she made her way to the dungeon. The sooner the stranger mended, the sooner he could be on his way.

 The man is important to your future.

Jane stilled. Why? There was no response. She shook her head. The voice could be so vague sometimes. It gave her enough to make her curious, and then was silent.

Jane continued down the stone steps to the dungeon. Important could mean a hundred different things. It did not mean the stranger came to fulfill the deepest desires of her heart, that of having a husband and a child.

She entered the dark cell sometime later. Her twisted knee screamed with pain, but she ignored it. There was work to be done. The wounded man lay pale and still on the narrow cot at the back of the cell. Her bag of medicine and the knife lay beside him.

Thomas stood guard. The flickering light of the candle danced over the scene creating an eerie atmosphere.

Jane’s shadow lengthened on the stone wall as she moved forward. She waved Thomas aside and bent over the stranger. A touch would tell her everything. Jane closed her eyes and stretched her hand toward the man. She held her breath. The warmth of his skin sent tingles up her arm. She shivered and flattened her palm, increasing her contact with him. The dungeon disappeared, and she was in the forest surrounding Rathborne. Jane stiffened in surprise. She never had a vision before.

She rode beside the stranger on a large black stallion running through the trees. An arrow whistled through the air and hit him in the shoulder. The man teetered. He righted and nudged his mount with his knees, flattening his body against the horse’s back. Suddenly the wolves were behind him. He said several colorful words and leaned closer to his stallion. A large male wolf appeared on the path in front of them, showing his teeth. The man’s horse reared, and the rider flew backward into the shrubbery. The wolves leaped at his horse, and all Jane could see was blood. The stranger rose to his feet and turned toward the gates of Rathborne. He had a head wound, and his thigh bled from his catapult into the bushes. The arrow in his shoulder dripped red. The man ran with all his might. He lunged inside the gates of Rathborne and kicked them shut as the alpha wolf leaped to end his life.

Jane shook. Her vision was over. She brushed strands of hair from her face with trembling hands and wiped her eyes. Her heart pounded in her throat. The stranger barely made it to safety. The images still danced before her. Jane dabbed the perspiration from her forehead with one of the cloths. She sank onto the edge of the narrow cot beside the stranger, too weak to stand. Premonitions were a usual occurrence. Visions were not.

Jane frowned. There must be a reason she had one now.

Your life and his are intertwined.

Jane froze. How could this be? Her life would never intertwine with any man. The words repeated themselves in her mind. Her hand trembled as she reached for another cloth. Jane wished the future contained happiness. But how could it be any different than it was? She would never know the touch of a man, nor ever know what it was to be loved. She resigned her feelings to her fate the day she woke from her accident and realized she would never be normal again.

Jane brushed wetness from her eyes and focused on cleaning the man’s face.

The picture of the assassin danced before her, then disappeared. Jane had a quick impression of power and lethal determination. The man dressed in black, but she saw little else.

Jane frowned. If only she spotted some identifying mark. Her instinct told her the assassin was the danger the voice warned her about.

The stranger beside her murmured, and Jane jumped. She would figure it out later. For now, there was work to do. She rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands. She probed the wound on the man’s head. It was not deep, but it would require attention. She cleaned it thoroughly and bandaged it. She inspected the stranger’s face as she worked.

His dark hair was pulled back and bound with a thin strip of leather. The man had a straight nose, a square chin covered with dark stubble, and a high brow. He was extremely handsome.

Jane frowned. The stranger unsettled her. He was dark and sensuous. The pit of her stomach tightened.

Your path lies beside his.

“Stop it!” Jane cried, putting her hands over her ears.

Thomas glanced at her in alarm. “My lady?”

Jane took a deep breath. “Never mind, Thomas. I was busy with my own thoughts.” Thomas nodded but kept his gaze on her.

Jane took the knife and slit the man’s breeches to his thigh. Her eyes widened at the size of his muscled leg. He was well formed and tanned, his skin smooth and supple.

Jane stretched out her hand, running her fingers the length of his thigh. Her breath hitched in her throat at the warmth of his skin. She caught the smell of sandalwood on his clothes. She had never seen a man such as this.

Alfred entered the cell.

Jane looked up. “Help me remove the arrow.”

Alfred and Thomas took hold of the man’s shoulders.

Jane ripped his shirt open, revealing a muscled chest covered with crisp dark hair. She retrieved the knife and cut off the shaft of the arrow.

The men lifted the stranger to a sitting position and held him while Jane pushed the arrow through, removing it. Blood ran down the stranger’s chest and back. Jane reached for a cloth and water. When she cleaned it to her satisfaction, she applied an herbal salve and wrapped strips of linen around his large chest. When she finished, the men laid the stranger down.

Alfred dismissed Thomas. “Gertie wants you to gather some firewood.”

Thomas nodded and left.

Jane washed the dried blood from the gash on the man’s thigh.

“Is the wound deep?” Alfred leaned over to see what she was doing.

“No. It requires stitching, though. Hold the candle for me.”

Alfred took the candle from the wall and held it up.

Jane took a needle and threaded it with her silk floss. She applied the needle to his skin, drawing the ragged edges together in tiny, neat stitches. Then she applied more salve and wrapped the wound with a clean cloth, tying the ends together. “Cover him with a blanket, so he does not catch a chill, and keep an eye on him. Let him have some broth when he regains consciousness. Inform me immediately once he is awake. I want to question him.”

“Of course, my lady.” Alfred placed the candle back on the wall and reached for a clean blanket. “There is something familiar about him, but I cannot decide what it is. Did you learn anything?”

“I know how he came to be here, but not who he is,” Jane murmured. “It was the strangest thing, Alfred. When I touched him, I saw what happened. It was not a whisper in my mind.” She gazed at the stranger.

He shall be your lover.

She jerked back as if burned. “He cannot stay. He is to leave as soon as he can travel.” Jane rose and turned toward the door, easing her twisted leg before her.

“My lady, I thought you were urged to help him. What changed?”

 Your lives are twisted together as your bodies shall—

Jane stopped in her tracks. “We have little enough to eat as it is. We do not need another mouth to feed.” She turned to Alfred. It was a feeble excuse, but it was all she had. She would not reveal the reason for her anxiousness. “Take Thomas with you to the gardens tomorrow, gather everything. Snow will come early this year. There was a chill earlier, and it smelled of frost.”

“Yes, my lady.” Alfred no longer questioned her. She saved his life on more than one occasion with her unnatural knowledge.

 

About the Author

I love being an author. It’s all about where your characters lead you. I start with a general idea. As the story unfolds, I type as fast as I can in hopes I keep up with my characters. They have had me jotting on napkins, making notes while I’m waiting in a line, and waking me up in the middle of the night. The hard part is always the ending. My characters live with me and when I reach the end of the story, it is hard to say goodbye. Sometimes, I let the story sit for a few days to make sure I’m okay with them leaving home to get published. Kind of like when you kids move out. LOL

I enjoy my grandchildren, and the time I share with them. They make me smile with their antics. I like to quilt, crochet, knit and sew. Cooking and baking are occasional itches I scratch. The rest of the time, they are necessary evils. LOL.

My greatest support comes from my husband. He has been my sounding board for all my stories. My daughters are also a great support to me. I couldn’t do it without my family.

Virginia Barlow’s recent release is the paranormal romance, The Witch of Rathborne Castle.

You can visit Virginia’s website at https://www.virginia-barlow.com or connect with her on Twitter, Goodreads and Facebook.

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