The Forest Lord (22 page)

Hartley's voice, calm and soothing, comforted the ewe as if it were a frightened child. He lifted the sheep in his arms. One of its forelegs hung crooked, and its belly bulged with new life.

Hartley turned to lay the ewe on the slope. He seemed unaware of anything but the wounded animal. Lifting its head, he bent and breathed on the ewe's muzzle.

Jeb rubbed at his face with a dirty sleeve. "Thank you, sir. I know she willna make it, but the lamb will be saved."

"She'll be fine," Hartley murmured. He ran his hand over the distended curve of the animal's belly. The ewe shuddered.

"There are two lambs," Hartley said. "One is turned." He stroked the ewe again, from muzzle to tail.

What happened then was something
Eden had never thought to witness. One moment the ewe was heaving and struggling, and the next she had delivered a tiny, wet miniature of herself. Jeb took the new lamb into his arms and began to clean off the delicate nose.

Another lamb followed swiftly. Hartley's concentration was still fixed on the ewe. Without thinking,
Eden scooted down to the second newborn and gathered it into her arms. She mimicked Jeb's actions and cleaned the lamb with her skirts. It bleated daintily. She could feel the patter of its heartbeat through her bodice.

All at once
Eden felt close, not only to the lamb but to the earth on which she sat and the grass and the wood and the two people who shared this strangely moving experience.

A shadow fell across her. Hartley stood with the ewe in his arms, Jeb at his side with the other lamb.

"You have ruined your gown," Hartley said.

"So I have." She scrambled awkwardly to her feet, hugging the lamb to her breast. "Should a gown matter more to me than a living creature?"

He smiled. It was greater praise than any words could have been. "You learn well, Eden Fleming."

Three months ago she would have taken offense.
The way he addressed her, looked at her, could only put unfortunate ideas in young Jeb Topping's head.
But Jeb murmured endearments to the lamb, unaware of the provocative undercurrents.

"The ewe must rest," Hartley said. "Have you shelter for her, Jeb?"

"Aye.
Is she truly healed?"

"If you care for her well, she'll be walking in a week."

Jeb gazed up at Hartley with the same adoration
Eden had so often seen in Donal. "Are you an animal doctor, sir?"

"Let us say that the animals and I understand one another." He met
Eden's eyes, as if asking whether such understanding could ever exist between them. "I can carry the lamb as well as the ewe, your ladyship."

"No." She nuzzled the down-soft wool, not even minding the odors of recent birth. "I wish to keep it."

"Very well.
Lead us to your home, Jeb."

The three of them descended the fell, Hartley remaining close to
Eden as she picked her way down the steep slope. At the bottom, another boy, several years older than Jeb, was waiting for them.

The two boys were alike enough to be brothers, and soon proved their kinship with an excited exchange of questions and explanations about the prized ewe and the newborn lambs. The elder boy ran off down the road to the nearby farmhouse.

When Eden, Hartley, and Jeb arrived, they were greeted at the doorway by an older woman—Jeb's mother, Eden guessed—and two girls of indeterminate age, along with Jeb's elder brother. The three females stared at
Eden in dismay.

Reminded of her soiled skirts,
Eden set the lamb down and determined to muddle through this untimely meeting.

"Good day," she said. "These are, I believe, your sheep."

Mrs. Topping shuffled a sort of curtsy. "M'lady. My boy told me what you done, saving one of our best ewes and her lambs. We're grateful."

"I cannot take the credit,"
Eden said. "Mr. Shaw and Jeb did most of the work."

"An' Mr. Shaw healed Josephine!" Jeb put in.

One of the Topping girls tittered, and Mrs. Topping quieted her.
"Your pardon, m'lady.
Mr. Topping is up on the fells, or he'd thank you himself. Will you come in for a cup of tea?"

Eden
got the distinct impression that Mrs. Topping wished her at the devil rather than in her modest home. She was quite certain that she smelled quite odious, and Mrs. Topping was unprepared for her landlady's visit, especially when she had ignored
Eden's invitation to Hartsmere.

"Thank you,"
Eden said, "but I am not dressed for calling, and my own guests are waiting at Hartsmere."

"Lady Eden refers to the people of this dale, whom she invited to dine and make merry at her expense," Hartley said. "The majority seem to be late."

Every gaze turned to him. The Topping girls' eyes grew very big. Even Mrs. Topping appeared to be smitten.

For the first time,
Eden saw Hartley through female eyes other than her own. She had never stopped to think how the maids at Hartsmere regarded him, and Mrs. Byrne was too elderly to consider. But the Toppings' reactions made clear just how attractive other women might find him.

She smothered a surge of jealousy. Why should they not admire? Hartley Shaw did not belong to her.

"Her ladyship was concerned that perhaps you did not receive your invitation," Hartley went on. He raked them all with a scathing look. "Surely, if you had, you would be at Hartsmere now. She has already done far more for the dale than save your ewe."

Mrs. Topping twisted her hands in her apron and avoided his eyes. "Well, you see…"

"Mr. Shaw, perhaps you would be
so
good as to fetch my cart,"
Eden said. She smiled at the Toppings. "We shall talk again at a more convenient time." She turned away before the woman could stammer an excuse.

Hartley took his time about obeying her, lingering with the Toppings while she walked toward the cart. She overheard a snatch of conversation and then a long silence. She was about to remind him when he strode past her in the direction of the cart.

Once they were on their way back to Hartsmere,
Eden released the tight rein she had held on her emotions. "It was not necessary for you to berate the Toppings on my behalf," she said tightly. "I shan't beg for the affection of my people, nor do I demand it as a condition of charity."

Hartley glanced at her. The near kiss had been supplanted in her thoughts by more recent events, but now it was if their dalliance had just been interrupted. She half feared that he might stop the cart and finish what he had begun.

Feared, and hoped. God help her.

He set her mind at ease soon enough. "The Toppings did not show it," he said, "but they were impressed by what you were willing to do to save the sheep. It's not every lady who condescends to help in so personal a manner."

"I must have made quite an impression," she said, plucking at her stained skirts.
"And to think that I chose this gown so that I would look my best today."

"Do you ever look less than your best?"

"Is that a question or a compliment, Mr. Shaw?"

His mouth turned up at the corners. "I merely observe that it would be difficult for you to be less than beautiful at any time, Lady Eden."

His formality at this late date was wildly incongruous. "I would thank you, kind sir, but you exaggerate, especially when I have made such a close acquaintance with the fell and its woolly inhabitants that I might be one of them myself."

"A sheep?
Not you." His lids dropped halfway over his eyes. "I am no longer sure what sort of creature you are, Eden Fleming. You are not
so
tame as I once believed."

Eden
laughed to cover her pique. "How distressing that you ever thought
me
tame. Had you seen me in
London, you would not have made that mistake. No one among the
ton
thought me quite as dull as that."

There—that was a reminder to both of them who she was. But he chuckled, surprising her anew. "I never called you dull."

"I am gratified that you find me entertaining."

"It has been many years since I was last so… well entertained."

She flushed. "How fortunate that you found employment at Hartsmere, where life is so diverting."

"Do you seek to put me in my place again,
Eden?" The tone of his voice grew low, intimate. "Isn't it too late for that?"

Eden
was spared the need to answer by their approach to Hartsmere. Her handful of guests occupied one of the tables. No one else had come in the hour that she and Hartley had been absent.

Yet
Eden felt less discouraged than she had before they left. Helping to save the ewe and lambs had something to do with it.
So had Hartley's company.
The wild churning of emotions he inspired made her feel more alive than any of her
London intrigues.

Reluctant to meet her guests in her current state, both physical and emotional,
Eden asked Hartley to tend Copper and entered the house by a side entrance. Claudia intercepted her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Where were you?" she demanded. "I have been looking for you this past—" Her gaze fell to
Eden's gown. "I am quite beyond words. Have you any idea how ill you have timed this… freakish start of yours?"

"Oh, this?
It was in a very good cause, I assure you. Why are you so distressed?"

"Another guest will arrive soon, Niece. One you will not wish to disappoint."

"A member of the local gentry?
Surely—"

"Someone far more important than that.
It seems he could not forget you, Eden, and has come all the way from
London." She smiled with barely veiled triumph.
"The Marquess of Rushborough."

The Toppings arrived at Hartsmere within an hour
after Hartley and
Eden's return, crowded onto every surface of their wagon.

Hartley had expected them. He nodded to Mrs. Topping as her eldest son helped her down. She seemed uncertain whether to curtsy to him or hurry past with eyes averted.

He had meant to make an impression on the Toppings, and he had succeeded. The small demonstration of magic he had provided for their eyes alone had unsettled them. They feared to offend him, in case his exhibition had not been a simple conjurer's trick.

In case he was the very source of Hartsmere's curse—and
its
restored good fortune.

The Topping girls, dressed in their white May Day frocks, whispered and giggled nervously as they made their way to the tables. Jeb grinned at him. He smiled in return, pleased that at least one of these humans did not fear him.

Some Fane had enjoyed being feared and worshiped. That had never been his ambition. He had wanted to be left alone, he and his beasts and forest. With
Eden's return to Hartsmere, he knew how lonely he had been.

He came out of his musings to the sound of footsteps and hoofbeats and rattling wheels coming up the drive. News of Lady Eden's exploits—and Hartley's private display—had spread quickly. Farmers and villagers left their horses and carts and cautiously approached the tables.

"She can't be cursed," he heard Mrs. Topping tell a new arrival, "
not
if he helped save our ewe. She came right to our door, all soiled from the birthing. Jeb saw it. And he said…" She lowered her voice. "He said her manservant healed the ewe. I saw the beast walk with me own eyes, when Jeb said her leg was broke. And then—you willna believe this, but the servant did sommat that scared me right out of my shoes…"

The two women moved off, and Hartley smiled with satisfaction. It would take little more to convince the dalesmen that Hartsmere's misfortunes were over—and that the change was directly connected to Lady Eden Winstowe.

He glanced toward the house.
Eden had gone inside to change, but she still had not emerged to witness her success. He signaled to Armstrong, who had just served a plate of mutton and bread to an elderly woman.

"Find Lady Eden and tell her…" He hesitated, realizing that he very much wanted to surprise her. "Tell her that her presence is urgently requested."

Armstrong responded to his air of command without question and went into the house. Hartley circulated among the guests, listening to the talk and noting with approval that the tide was turning in
Eden's favor. People were beginning to enjoy themselves, to relax and appreciate what
Eden had provided.