Book Recommendation | Daughter of Sherwood (Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy Book One) by @LauraSt05038
Title: Daughter of Sherwood (Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy Book One)
Author: Laura Strickland
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Raised in the kitchens of Nottingham Castle, Wren has no idea she is the daughter of the legendary Robin Hood until she is summoned to Sherwood Forest. Since Robin's death many years before, the resistance against Norman tyranny has been upheld by a magical triad, but now one of the guardians has died. With two young men, Sparrow and Martin, Wren must form a new triad with a bond strong enough to defend Sherwood's magic. To one of them, she will also give her heart.
From the moment Wren bursts into his life, Sparrow loves her. But he knows she may choose his lifelong rival, Martin, as her mate. Martin wants Wren also, but Sparrow fears Martin is driven not by love but by ambition. When Martin is captured and held at Nottingham Castle, will the conflict between love and duty destroy the triad?
“Mind if I sit?”
She shook her head. Sparrow folded his legs under him and dropped down by her side. Rennie had the immediate and powerful impulse to reach out and touch his hand but fought it back hastily. Sitting so near, she could catch his scent—wood smoke, leather, and a tang of male underlying it all. He wore his hood back on his shoulders, and she could see his hair, long, glossy brown, not so shaggy as Martin’s. He wore no beard.
“We were named in honor of Robin, of course, as were many born in Sherwood, back then.” He grinned. “To be sure, there can be only one ‘Robin,’ so other birds had to be selected.”
“Aye?” Rennie studied him closely. “Why ‘Sparrow’? Would not Hawk have suited you better?”
“My father, so the story goes, wanted me to become a fine archer, one to rival Robin himself.”
“How does the name lend that?”
“It carries the word ‘arrow,’ does it not? ’Tis said the rogue friar himself—Tuck—named and blessed us before he died.”
“Did your name do its work? Are you a fine archer?”
“If I answer that honestly, I fear I will sound as full of myself as does our friend Martin.”
“Oh, him! Who would believe a word he says?”
“I do not know what he has been saying to you, but he is very good with a sword and with his fists, for all that.”
Rennie continued to study him in the flickering firelight, fascinated by his eyes, which held that hint of the wild and were shadowed by lashes surely longer than her own. And she found herself hoping Martin would not return. The emotions she gleaned from Martin were tumultuous and disturbing. This man, however, emitted a measure of calm.