The Witch of Rathborne Castle by @Virgini35142126 is a Beach Reads Event pick #beachread #pnr
Title: The Witch of Rathborne Castle
Author: Virginia Barlow
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Lady Jane Lenwood is abandoned and left penniless and alone at Rathborne Castle in the middle of a dark, twisted forest. She yearns to live a normal life and blames her misfortunes on the current duke. But Lady Jane has a secret, a voice in her head warning her of the future, which brings unwanted visitors to her gates.
Wounded, Max Radley is found inside the gates of Rathborne. He is intrigued and drawn to the beautiful red-haired woman the locals call a witch. After spending the winter snowed in, Max must resume his search for a traitor but finds he cannot forget Lady Jane.
Treason, enemies, lies and deception surround them. Jane must give everything to save them both, as well as Rathborne.
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
Your path lies beside his.
“Stop it!” Jane cried, putting her hands over her
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
“Is the wound deep?” Alfred leaned over to see
what she was doing.
“No. It requires stitching, though. Hold the candle
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
“My lady, I thought you were urged to help him.
Your lives are twisted together as your bodies
Jane stopped in her tracks. “We have little enough
to eat as it is. We do not need another mouth to feed.”
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I love roses, chocolate, and rainy afternoons with a good book. Writing and being an author has been a lifelong dream for me. As my children grew older and left to make their own life, I found time to make my dreams a reality and haven’t stopped since. My dogs, Beethoven and Mozart, keep me company while I write, laying at my feet or guarding the door should a villain jump from my pages and come to life. Creating fantasy worlds for the stories in my head is my happy place, second only to spending time with my family.
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