The Forest Lord (50 page)

"I have been worse than a fool," she said. "Claudia took him, supposedly to protect him from you. I could not see that she was mad."

He took a step toward her and almost fell. She dove to catch him. Had he lied about Claudia's attack? Was he near death after all?

"You are hurt!" she cried.
"Hartley!"

He shook her off. "We must find them. Where are they?"

"I do not know. I think she drugged me to make sure I could not protest."

He cursed in a fluid, lilting tongue. "Donal and I share a bond. I may… be able to find him, if I am not too—" He began to topple sideways.
Eden caught him in her arms again and nearly fell beneath his weight.

A sharp rap came on the door, and it opened before either one of them could recover. Rushborough strode in, his face flushed and angry.

"I see that I have come just in time," he said, staring at Hartley like a belligerent ram. "
Eden, I will not have this man in my house."

Eden
felt Hartley's incredible effort to stand on his own feet. He pushed away from
Eden and smiled. "Forgive me, Lord Rushborough, but I did not know we were… well enough acquainted to permit such rancor. Have we met before this evening?"

"We have not met, Fleming, but I know you. You are the man who seduced Lady Eden six years ago, got her with child, and abandoned her."

"Ah. She has told you, has she? Then perhaps she has also mentioned… that it was her choice to leave me. I did not learn that she was enceinte until some time afterward."

"You cad.
She left you because she learned—" He paused, briefly at a loss. He looked at
Eden. She felt cold, remembering how much she had told Rushborough—and how little.

"Francis," she said. "It is so much more complex… The explanation… it must wait. There are more urgent considerations, and as you can see—"

"Surely you do not forgive this scoundrel! He has the unmitigated gall to return after all this time, to disrupt your life and mine—"

"I was wrong," Hartley said. His voice shook the room, echoing with inhuman force. Rushborough's mouth opened and closed.

"I did this lady a great wrong," Hartley continued hoarsely, as if he had expended the last of his strength. "I do not know if she… can ever forgive me." He met
Eden's gaze. "She is blameless. I do not intend to remain to trouble her life."

"That is correct," Rushborough snarled. "I will see you out of this house and out of
London by tomorrow eve. This lady is to be my wife, and nothing shall ever disturb her peace again as long as I live."

"I… will go," Hartley said. He bowed to
Eden. "Lady Eden, I wish you every…" He gave a low gasp and collapsed against the desk.
Eden rushed to his side.

"You can see that he is ill," she told Rushborough fiercely. "He cannot leave this house now. I do not believe that you have the authority to turn him out if Lady Saville invites him to remain."

Rushborough stared at her and turned abruptly on his heel. The door slammed behind him.

Eden
laughed, because the only alternative was sheer panic. She doubted that Rushborough would now consider her a suitable marchioness. She was spared the need to explain that she would not marry where she could not love. That she would not marry, ever again.

"Come with me," she said, taking Hartley's weight upon her shoulder. "You must rest."

"Donal—"

"Someone is already looking for him, and we will go as soon as you are able." How easy it was to say "we" when their son might be in peril.

Lady Saville all but leaped upon them when they entered the hall. She prattled something about Rushborough and then noticed Hartley's pallor.

"Oh! Oh, dear! Are you not well, Mr. Fleming?"

"Would you be
so
kind as to allow my cousin to rest in a private chamber, Lady Saville?"
Eden asked, continuing toward the stairs.

"To be sure!
I will summon a footman at once, and have a room prepared. Shall I give your regrets to our guests?"

"Please do, Lady Saville."
She half dragged Hartley, sensing with alarm that his condition was worsening with every step.

Somehow she managed to get him to the bottom of the stairs, and he pulled himself up by clinging to the bannister. Two footmen intercepted them on the landing and took Hartley's weight between them. A maid rushed out of an open door, flushed and breathless, and Lady Saville's housekeeper followed.

"My lady," the woman said, "We have prepared a chamber for Mr. Fleming. I shall send for the doctor—"

"'That is not necessary,"
Eden said, following on the footmen's heels. "It is some recurring ailment from
India, I believe. He only requires rest."

"Just as you say, my lady!"
The housekeeper supervised the footmen as they carried Hartley into the room and laid him on the bed.
Eden sat beside him.

"Would you bring clean water, and cloths, and a little food?" she asked the housekeeper.

"At once.
Shall I leave Prudence with you?"

"No. I will care for my cousin."

She breathed again when the housekeeper, maid, and footmen had gone. Hartley's skin was like hot coals under her hand. He might be dying. Dying, while Donal was God knew where with a possible madwoman. What could she do now but trust her father?

"Hartley," she whispered, stroking his forehead.
"Fight.
Surely you are stronger than any mere mortal. Fight, for Donal's sake."

His eyelids fluttered and opened. "
Eden."

"I am here."

"Donal—" He sighed and closed his eyes.

"You must regain your strength. What can I do to help?"

He tried to shake his head. "I am… weaker away from Hartsmere," he said haltingly. "My tie to the land is too strong. The journey was difficult. Iron is everywhere here, and the wound was deep. I have only so much… power."

"You risked your life coming after us.
Why
do you want Donal so badly? Why take him from me? My aunt… Claudia said—"

"She said too much. And you believed her." He laughed faintly.
"The old tales.
Men have always… shaped us to their image. Because they feared us, they gave us a hundred names and a nature they could despise. We were evil, and without souls."

"I do not believe that, Hartley." And she realized it was true; she did not believe it. "You must have a soul."

"I am no… philosopher, Eden, nor a theologian like your priests. I know only that… I am not without a heart."

She squeezed his hand, as if she could pour her meager strength into him. "I know that you love Donal." She did not let go, though she realized the things she must ask might bring only more pain. It was time to dispense with all the secrets, all the lies. "Why did you court me, Hartley? If you wanted a half-human child, there must have been an easier way. You could have found a woman who would not expect marriage or a lifetime of companionship. There are no doubt women who would… sell their own children."

He raised his head and let it fall back to the pillow.

"Stop," he whispered. "That time is gone. Is the present… not all the more precious to humans, who live such brief lives?"

"Is the past of no concern to your
kind, who live
forever?"

"The centuries can be very lonely."

"Was Donal to be your companion for eternity?"

His expression twisted, as if some inward pain overwhelmed him. "I came to… value your companionship,
Eden. More… than I thought possible."

She swallowed the heavy ache in her throat. "And yet you used me, knowing you would take Donal from me."

"Yes. I used you, with no thought to your feelings." His hand moved restlessly under hers. "I believed… that all I wanted was a child. But that changed. It changed when you returned to Hartsmere."

"You hated me then, didn't you?"

"I believed that you had betrayed me… that you had joined your father in breaking our pact. I thought I wanted revenge. Fane can be merciless in vengeance. But you have also hated me, Eden. Do not your philosophers say that hatred is akin to love?"

"Your
hatred,
or mine?" She smiled sadly. "Do you claim to love me?"

No fear could match the one she felt for Donal or for Hartley's life. Yet she waited now with her hand folded around his, waited for the answer that might give birth to a miracle.

He shuddered and closed his eyes. She thought that he had fallen into unconsciousness and felt frantically for his pulse. But it was there, thready and weak.

He had given her his answer.

Someone knocked on the door, and a maid entered with a pitcher and bowl and cloths. A footman followed with a tray of biscuits, sliced ham, and tea. They set down the deliveries without a word and left.
Eden rose, soaked a cloth in the cool water, and returned to the bedside. Hartley did not stir as she laid it across his forehead.

She had prayed, oh, how she had prayed that these feelings would not return. She did not want to
keep loving
Hartley. He had given her no reason to nurture what ought to be dead, and every reason to cast it aside. His weakness should give her an advantage in this ruinous battle they waged, if she wished to win at any price.

But victory was a sword that turned on its wielder. It cut deeply. She needed Hartley more than ever before, to save her son.

She fetched the tray and poured him a cup of tea. He took one sip and pushed it away. He rejected the biscuit and ham as well.

"You must eat, Hartley. If we are to find Donal, you must get well."

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. Pain had dulled the spring green to old moss. "There… may be a way,
Eden.
A way for you to help me."

"Tell me."

"Today is what men know… as All Hallows' Eve. The ancients called it Samhain. Once it was a sacred time for your people. They lit bonfires to welcome the spirits of those who had gone before. They believed—and it is true—that the veil between the realms of Fane and man… grows thin on this night."

"You waste your strength in talking—"

He lifted his hand to brush her lips with his fingers. "There was another name for Samhain: 'the time that is no time.' All boundaries are as nothing. Fane may give gifts to man… and woman may give her strength to Fane."

"I will give you all I have."

"Then lend me the magic of your body, Eden," he whispered.

In his eyes she read his meaning. Her body came to instant
readiness—treacherous body, that could still want him so much, at such a time. But her mind and heart knew that what he asked went far beyond a joining for the purpose of physical pleasure.

"I can make you strong again?"

"There is… a chance."

Maybe the only chance they had. She set aside all her questions and went to the door to lock it. Let Lady Saville and her guests think what they chose. This was life and death.

Did not life
became
most vivid in the face of death? Was that not why her body cried out for his when the world was crumbling about them?

Her gown was loose fitting enough that she was able to remove it by herself. The skirts puddled at her feet, and she kicked them aside.

Hartley had turned his head to watch her. She had learned to be a bold lover in his arms, but her boldness now was so much more than desire. She climbed onto the bed and knelt beside him.

"What should I do?"

"You do not know?" The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile, and then he grew grave and intent. "I need your nakedness,
Eden.
Your complete surrender."

She pulled her chemise over her head and straddled his hips, highly aware of the sleek fabric of his pantaloons against the inside of her thighs.

"Free me," he whispered.

Her fingers slipped on the buttons of his trousers and found him hard and ready. The rest of him might be near death, but once more life found the way. She wrapped her hands around him and bent low to kiss his face.

He responded with lips and tongue. No weakness could disguise his desire or his need. His mouth moved so softly that it was as if butterflies danced upon her lips. His tongue slipped inside with the same tenderness. Their breaths
mingled,
a sweet alchemy of Fane and mortal.

She feathered her hands over Hartley's skin, caressed his jaw,
traced
the corner of his mouth and his parted lips. His fingers lifted to stroke her neck and shoulders, the touch as light as his kiss. If she had not come to know his body so intimately, she might have believed that he was a ghost, only half within this world.