Page 1 of Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse
Prologue
CastleKeyvnor
1803
She’d been told notto wander. But the sun shone warm out here and the sky echoed blue against the sea and Castle Keyvnor was such a brooding, gloomy place. Tamsyn’s papa said it was their duty to visit, however, as he stood to inherit the Banfield earldom—and the castle camewithit.
Such an odd, heavy sort of home. It sometimes felt as if the walls pressed down on her shoulders. The gardens were lovely, though, and as Tamsyn had just reached her fifteenth birthday, Nanny had agreed to allow her some time to spend outdoors and away from the schoolrooms and her four youngersisters.
Never would the nurse have allowed it had she known it was more than a bit of freedom that had lifted Tamsyn’s chin and set her heart tobeating.
Gryff.
Mr. Gryffyn Cardew, to give him his due. She sighed. Tall and broad even at just three years older than she, he’d set her pulse to fluttering the first time they met. Apparently his family was important in local society and their land shared a narrow border with the old earl’s. They’d had a quick introduction when his father brought him along to the castle on a bit of business, and there had been an exchange of interested, lingering glancesbetweenthem.
And then—an encounter in the local village of Bocka Morrow. Nanny had been in a tizzy that day, trying to get her errands accomplished with all five girls underfoot. Gryff, encountering them in the street, had offered to give the girls a tour—and Nanny had gladlyaccepted.
He’d taken them rambling all over the little hamlet, from the docks where the fishing boats were unloading, to the shops and even to the dimly lit apothecary where he spooked the younger girls with tales of the wizened proprietress and the odd, blue symbols etched on herfingers.
They’d met all manner of people that day, but Tamsyn never worried a moment. Gryff was as tall and sturdy as a young bull. He listened more than he spoke, although he had a dry wit. He showed a font of patience with her chattering sisters and she liked the way he greeted all and sundry with familiarityandease.
She liked that he spent a great deal of time watching her, too. And that he answered her questions with attentive speed, and shared several more lingering glances and shy smiles as the dayworeon.
“We’re to see a bit of Lord Banfield’s tin mine tomorrow,” she’d told him before they exchanged farewells—and thank heavens, he’d heard the invitation that she didn’t dare speak outright. For when they’d left the mine, there he’d come, riding along the coastal track when they headed home. He’d climbed down and walked with them, and if Nanny had glanced askance when they dropped back behind the girls, she hadn’t objected. Tamsyn was mad for horses and had greatly admired his mount. They’d spoken of the local hunt, of racing and purebreds for all the remaining twenty minutes ofthewalk.
But today—today was the most thrilling of all. A note had been left at her plate at breakfast. An invitation. He wished to show her a pretty spot in the woods, an ancient barrow where it was rumored the pixies danced on the night of thefullmoon.
She’d shivered. Was it odd to find the thought of a raised earthen burial mound romantic? She didn’t care. Tamsyn had tucked the note away before anyone saw and had spent the morning aquiver with excitement. Even now, moving through the formal gardens toward the distant path he’d indicated, the structured elegance was lost on her. She could only think of his broad shoulders, his large hands, those dark eyes and the way the sun shadowed his angled jaw and got lost in the depths of hisdarkhair.
She had to pay attention, however, as she moved farther away from the main grounds. Only a narrow strip of Cardew lands bordered the earl’s, and her destination lay onthatedge.
Take the path by thegnarledoak
Tamsyn had seenit once before, in her wanderings. She’d caught a glimpse of a young boy a few days ago, and followed his enchanting giggle through the gardens. She’d called to him, but he’d merely laughed and ran on. She’d lost him near just such a tree, but had feared following him and getting turned around in the forestbeyond.
She felt only anticipation now, though. And there was no sign of the boy or anyone else when she reached the tree. She took the chance, therefore, to stop and adjust herbodice.
Her walking dress was new—and marvelous. A bit lower cut than her usual gowns, it made her feel quite grown up. Which was why she’d worn it, even though the special stays she’d had made for it had somehow been left behind in Truro. She’d just made a few modifications—with the help of a couple of old lace-trimmed handkerchiefs she’d found in her bedchamber. As long as she kept to a careful and sedate pace, no one would ever know. And if there was a bit of a padded effect to that which had nature endowed her in that area—then so much thebetter.
With a final tug, she touched a twisted branch as she ducked past the tree and stepped into the dappled beauty of the forestbeyond.
How lovely it was. Wild in comparison to the well-groomed paths she’d left and full of birdsong and the hum of insects. Everything shone in varied shades of green, lit by an occasional golden shaftofsun.
Navigate the fallen log over thestream
Not a very wide stream,thank goodness. Tamsyn balanced carefully—until she reached the middle, looked up and caught her breath at the sight of what lay attheend.
Cross the openmeadow
She could seethe open space, but before that, at the end of the log, was a gorgeous scene. Large shrubbery and a couple of draping trees had crowded close and formed a sort of bower to step through, and clustered beneath, at the edge of the stream, bloomed a riot of wildflowers. She spotted buttercups and kidney vetch and sea pinks. It was so lovely she hurried the rest of the way across, hopped down and bent to gather handfuls ofblossoms.
A wayward branch snagged her hem. She leaned forward to free herself, then paused as she heard an odd, snuffling sound. Clutching her flowers close, she looked up—andfroze.
A massive boar stood at the other end of the clearedmeadow.
Huge. Heavy.Deadly.
Still making quiet sounds, it stood with its nose down and its head tiltedoddly.
