National bestselling author Juliet Marillier revisits the classic fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast in this “ engaging Gaelic fantasy romance staring two fascinating reluctant souls”( Genre Go Round Reviews ).   Whistling Tor is a place of secrets, a mysterious, wooded hill housing the crumbling fortress belonging to Anluan—a chieftain whose name is spoken throughout the region in tones of revulsion and bitterness. A curse lies over Anluan’s family and his people, and the woods themselves hold a perilous force whose every whisper threatens doom.   Then the young scribe Caitrin appears in Anluan’s garden, admiring the rare plant known as heart’s blood . Retained to sort through entangled family documents, Caitrin brings about unexpected changes in the household, casting a hopeful light against the despairing shadows.   But even as Caitrin brings solace to Anluan, and the promise of something more between them, he remains in thrall to the darkness surrounding Whistling Tor. To free Anluan’s burdened soul, Caitrin must unravel the web of sorcery woven by his ancestors before it claims his life—and their love... Praise for Heart’s Blood “With her graceful storytelling and talent as a folklorist, [Marillier] crafts a love story with magical underpinnings.”— Library Journal “Incorporates familiar elements of mystery, fantasy, and Irish history into a strong tale of very human romance...Eminently readable, Caitrin and Anluan’s love story is bittersweetly realistic.”— Publishers Weekly “Marillier provides a wonderful tale of love with a wee touch of the paranormal.”—Genre Go Round Reviews   “With her graceful storytelling and her talent as a folklorist, [Marillier] crafts a love story with magical underpinnings...[an] elegant tale of one woman’s fight to save her beloved from himself.”— Library Journal   “Heart’s Blood is both a romance and a ghost story, and it works on both fronts...sure to please established Mariller fans and to win her some new ones. I’m already hoping there will be a sequel. There are enough fascinating characters in this book to spawn a whole new series.”—The Specusphere   “A truly gorgeous, winsome book from beginning to end, and another book on the shortlist for favorite reads this year...a true gem, another beautiful novel from Juliet Marillier. Absolutely recommended, for old and new readers alike.”—The Book Smugglers   Juliet Marillier was born in Dunedin, New Zealand, a town with strong Scottish roots. She graduated from the University of Otago with degrees in languages and music, and has had a varied career that includes teaching and performing music as well as working in government agencies. Juliet now lives in a hundred-year-old cottage near the river in Perth, Western Australia, where she writes full-time. She is a member of the druid order OBOD. Juliet is active in the field of animal rescue and shares her home with a small pack of waifs and strays. She is the author of the Blackthorn & Grim novels and the Sevenwaters series. Her historical fantasy novels and short stories are published internationally and have won a number of awards. At a place where two tracks met, the carter brought his horse to a sudden halt. "This is where you get down," he said. Dusk was falling, and mist was closing in over a landscape curiously devoid of features. Apart from low clumps of grass, all I could see nearby was an ancient marker stone whose inscription was obscured by a coat of creeping mosses. Every part of me ached with weariness. "This is not even a settlement!" I protested. "It's—it's nowhere!" "This is as far west as your money takes you," the man said flatly. "Wasn't that the agreement? It's late. I won't linger in these parts after nightfall." I sat frozen. He couldn't really be going to leave me in this godforsaken spot, could he? "You could come on with me." The man's tone had changed. "I've got a roof, supper, a comfortable bed. For a pretty little thing like you, there's other ways of paying." He set a heavy hand on my shoulder, making me shrink away, my heart hammering. I scrambled down from the cart and seized my bag and writing box from the back before the fellow could drive off and leave me with nothing. "Sure you won't change your mind?" he asked, eyeing me up and down as if I were a prime cut of beef. "Quite sure," I said shakily, shocked that I had been too full of my woes to notice that look in his eye earlier, when there were other passengers on the cart. "What is this place? Is there a settlement close by?" "If you can call it that." He jerked his head in the general direction of the marker. "Don't know if you'll find shelter. They've a habit of huddling behind locked doors at night around here, and with good reason. I'm not talking about troops of armed Normans on the road, you understand, but . . . something else. You'd far better come home with me. I'd look after you." I slung my bundle over my shoulder. On the tip of my tongue was