The Forest Lord (45 page)

Eden
sat beside her and touched Claudia's rigid fingers.

"I have hurt you," she said, her voice as calm as a windless dusk. "I am sorry. What shall we do?"

Claudia savored her bitter victory in the privacy of her own heart. "Trust me," she said. "I will help you to save Donal. And the first thing we must do is leave Hartsmere and return to
London."

"How will that save Donal?
He
will simply follow—"

"No, Eden. These creatures are not the gods they once claimed to be. For a thousand years or more, Hern has been bound to the
forest
of
Hartsmere
. He cannot leave it for long, or he grows weak. The farther he goes from the forest, the more his powers—his life—drain from him. And like all his kind, he cannot touch iron without suffering great pain and risking death. He will not follow." She stood and took
Eden's arm. "You will not be alone in
London, my dear girl. Just an hour ago Lord Rushborough confided to me that he intends to remove to
London for a few weeks before returning to his estates in
Kent. He has invited us both to stay with his sister in
Mayfair should we choose to visit before Christmas."

"But he must…
you
must understand that I have no intention of—"

"He adores you, Eden. That is why he has been so patient. But he also told me that if you choose not to accept his invitation this time, he will trouble you no longer."

From the look on
Eden's face, she was quite troubled enough without the complications presented by the marquess. But it was her supreme vulnerability that would aid Lord Rushborough in winning the affection she had thus far denied him.

After all, who else could
Eden go to now? What else, except her former life?

"Come," Claudia said. "We must leave for Hartsmere immediately if we wish to prepare for a morning departure."

Eden
did not glance up the fell as Claudia led her into the house.

The weather was unseasonably violent on the morning
they left Hartsmere.

Snow fell in great gouts from the sky, as if nature itself conspired to keep them from escaping. It was seldom, the servants said, that snow fell in October, and never so steadily.

Eden
and Donal, bundled in furs and blankets, sat in the inelegant post chaise Claudia had hired to convey them to
London. The postilions stood beside the horses, stamping their feet to keep warm, while their animals blew clouds of mist that quickly dissolved in the lashing snow.

Claudia's form was just discernible through the window, consulting with Dalziel, who was to drive the old berline that would carry her, Jane, and their few hastily packed trunks. Any notion of using the landau had been discarded because of the harsh weather. Dalziel perched in the berline's driver's box, so wrapped up in scarves, hat, and greatcoat that only his eyes were visible.

Eden
was as numb as the stinging cold that bombarded them from every side, blanketing the world in the white of death.
The death of dreams.

She held Donal tight against her, as much for her own peace of mind as to warm him. His little body gave off more heat than the bricks under their feet. She looked outside the window and wondered how far they could go before the roads became impassable. Now that she had made her decision, all she could think of was to be gone from this place.

Hartley—Hern—had not shown himself again. Every moment since last night she had expected him to appear from behind a tree or rock, glaring at her with accusing, inhuman eyes.

But she could not maintain that image long. The eyes she remembered were warm and filled with pain as he begged for her understanding.

No
.
A deception.
A lie.
It must be.
Because if it were not, she could not live with herself.
And she must go on living—for Donal's sake.

Nothing was worth risking her son. Donal was real, and his love—her love for him—must be the only happiness in a future where sorrow was the one abiding condition she could expect. She no longer believed in some ephemeral happiness based on false hopes, not even the fragile chance that love between a man and woman could survive the wreckage of shattered beliefs and broken trust.

"Mother, why do we go to
London?"

Eden
had prepared herself for the questions she knew must come—those which, in the rush of preparation, had been blessedly spared her until now. She squeezed Donal's mittened fingers.

"You know that I lived in
London for many years before I came here, Donal. I left there very quickly. There are still a few things… that I must do that I did not get a chance to finish."

"When is Hartley coming to
London?"

Her heart seized in midbeat. Donal had not called Hartley "Da" since that disastrous meeting. It was as if he knew how that word upset his mother. Just as he seemed to know better than to speak of what had happened on the fell.

He did not know of the message she had found tucked beneath her bedchamber door at Hartsmere. She feared to speculate how it had arrived there, but Hartley's brief words had both tormented her and given her the hope that he would not realize they had left until it was too late. In three days, they would be over halfway to
London.

"I… am not certain, Donal," she said. "He has duties at Hartsmere that he cannot abandon." She tried to smile. "Who else can care for the animals so well as he?"

Donal looked at her, and she could hardly meet his gaze. He knew she was lying. He knew, and forgave.

"Will Mrs. Byrne be there?"

Eden
breathed again. "Someone must stay to look after the house—but we shall see."

"When do we come home?"

She owed him the truth at least once. "I do not know, Donal."

He absorbed this gravely and turned to the wooden soldiers she had given him for the journey. His very silence was worse than any accusation. But, mercifully, he did not ask for her reasons. She could not have answered. She tucked the blankets more snugly about him.

A tap came on the window.

"My lady?"

She glimpsed one of the postboy's faces through the frosted glass and opened the door. "Is it time?"

"Aye, your ladyship."

Claudia appeared, as bundled as the rest of them and equally unrecognizable.
"I shall be right behind you every moment, my dear," she said. She took a steaming tankard from Armstrong, who was to ride at the back of the berline, and offered it to
Eden. "Drink this. It will warm you and give you a little extra courage to face what lies ahead."

The mulled wine was hot enough to burn her tongue, but
Eden welcomed the bite. She took a few sips and returned the tankard to Armstrong.

"Now we shall go," Claudia said. "Have faith. This will soon be over."

As the post chaise began to move and the berline followed in its wake,
Eden tried to see through the endless white to the house and the garden. It might be the last glimpse she would ever have of Hartsmere.

Home
, Donal had called it. She realized, now, how much she had begun to think of it as her home as well.
Its people her people.
Her friends.
But as long as things remained as they were, she dared not come here again with her son.

In Mr. Rumbold she had an excellent steward to look after the estate. She would continue to send what funds she could spare to support the dale, and pray that the people continued to prosper.

Pray that Hartley surrendered and returned forever to the unearthly place from which he'd come.

A stab of soul-deep pain struck at her heart. If he left, all her problems would be solved. But if he remained, and the dale suffered because of her as it had when her father betrayed his promise, then she would return and beg him on her knees to have pity. She would give him anything he wanted, except Donal—even herself. She would find a way to appease the monster.

A monster
who
had helped the dalesmen time and again, taught Donal with patient affection, loved her so tenderly.

Who had bargained for her body, her child, and cursed her father for refusing to carry out that devil's pact.

Dry-eyed,
Eden pulled Donal into her arms and watched Hartsmere disappear behind a sheet of snow. Love was dying in her once more, and she thought this time must be the last.

Let it be the last. Let it not struggle for existence when there was no hope.

The park was like a counterpane of bleached muslin, broken only by the darker upthrust of trees and shrubbery, and the rapidly disappearing drive upon which they traveled. The carriages passed through the gate and down the slope into the heart of the dale.

That was when a figure stepped out from among the trees, directly in the chaise's path.

Eden
's heart slammed wildly within her ribs as she pushed Donal behind her.

It was not Hartley Shaw who stood before the coach. It was the Forest Lord, with his antlers and his aura of power, larger than life or anything human, his hands raised in a gesture of warning. The green and brown scraps of his ragged clothing floated gently about him, as if the harsh wind did not touch him. He spoke words she could not comprehend.

She did not need to. "Fly!" she cried to the postilions. "
Fly
!" But the men did not hear her, or could not obey.

"Mother?"
Donal whispered. "Is it—
"

She muffled his words beneath the blankets, as if she could hide him from eyesight so much keener than hers. The Forest Lord moved toward the side of the coach, every line of his body conveying predatory desire and fierce purpose. He reached for the door handle.
Eden searched desperately for a weapon, anything to use against him. A wave of unexpected weakness swept over her.

A sharp, reverberating crack shattered the quiet. It sounded very much like a gunshot, but who would dare hunt here? Donal struggled in her arms. The weakness had grown so intense that she could scarcely hold him. Through dimmed vision she saw that Hartley was no longer trying to enter the chaise.

When next she opened her eyes, the window framed a different face. The door opened. Cold air rushed in, followed by Claudia's mittened hand.

"
Eden! Are you well?"

"Aunt, what… I…" Words became all twisted in her head, impossible to force past the malaise. "He… he came after Donal…"

"You need not fear. He is gone. Dalziel frightened him away with his pistol." Claudia's voice remained calm and unafraid. "You are both safe—for now. But we must change our plans,
Eden. He knows Donal is with you. He will pursue you if he can. We must separate."

Hartley had gone away, but he would come back. "Change carriages,"
Eden murmured through lips thick as sausages. "Donal and me… in the berline…"

"That is not enough. You must send Donal with me. I know of a place to go where he will be safe."

Send Donal with Claudia? Let him go?
Eden tried to shake her head, but even so small a motion made her faint.

"It is the only way," Claudia continued. Her voice had begun to echo, as if at the end of a very long tunnel. "We will change coaches. Donal will come with me, and you will proceed to
London. The monster will not believe that you would let Donal out of your sight. If he follows, he will follow you."

It all made sense to her befogged brain, though her emotions cried out in violent protest. She could feel herself slipping close to unconsciousness. Soon she would be in no state to look after Donal in any capacity, let alone defend him. "
Ill
," she whispered. "I am… ill."

Claudia's soft, bare palm pressed her forehead. "You do not feel feverish. You are overtired, and your strength has been taxed too far. You should stop at Ambleside. You must rest there until you feel able to continue, while I take Donal ahead. That will be even
more sure
to throw the monster off."

Claudia's face had become a blur.
"Where?
Where… take Donal?"

"It is best that you not know, in case he finds you and uses his enchantments upon you.
Nancy will go with you. I will send word to
London as soon as we are settled."