The Forest Lord (39 page)

The ill-bred fool.
Oh, yes, he had found Hartley Shaw. But his shot had missed, nearly hitting
Eden in the process.

Eden
told her that Hartley was searching for the intruder, and that was Claudia's one remaining hope.

She strode back to the double doors and twitched at the curtains. The wretched Colonial had no doubt failed in his task and chosen the better part of valor rather than continue. Either that… or the creature had turned the tables on him. He could be dead.

God forbid.

Out in the garden, beyond the wall, something moved. Claudia let the curtain fall and opened the doors. A man walked into the light cast from the windows.

Not the American, but Hartley Shaw. The taste of bitter defeat filled Claudia's mouth. He was not even wounded, though he looked as though he had been running.

The hunted after the hunter.

He strode toward the doors and saw her. Instinctively, she smoothed her expression and replaced it with one of worry and concern.

Think, Claudia.

Her first plan had failed. There would be other ways, other opportunities, but in the meantime she must take advantage of any small opening given her. Perhaps… just perhaps she could buy more time and separate
Eden and Shaw for a little while longer.

"Shaw," she said, stepping into the garden. "Lady Eden told me of the intruder. Did you find him?"

He stopped in his tracks, suspicious of her sudden willingness to address him after weeks of shunning and contempt. She saw his frown and his hesitation. But
Eden's name had some power over him; he moved closer and shook his head.

"I did not find him. He has fled." He looked past her, into the drawing room. "
Eden—"

"Is resting.
She has had a most unpleasant experience, but thank God she was not injured." Claudia forced herself to carry out the deception. "And you?"

His eyes narrowed. "I am unhurt."

"I am grateful that you saved my niece's life."

He did not respond immediately. She could see his alien mind pondering her change of attitude and considering what to make of it.

"The arrow flew before either of us
were
aware of a trespasser," he said. "I brought
Eden back immediately. She is in no further danger."

Either of us
.
He could not make clearer that they had been together, alone in the wood. But that was no secret.

"I see," she said, allowing some of her disapproval to seep through. He would not believe her apparent change of heart if she seemed too accepting.

"Whatever you think of me," Shaw said, "you may believe that I would protect
Eden with my life."

She clenched her teeth behind half-smiling lips. "I do believe it. And that is why… especially after tonight… I wish to declare a truce."

His brow arched high.
"A truce?"

"Let us be frank with one another. I have told you that I would not permit my niece's involvement with a servant. My feelings have not changed. But
Eden is not a child. My influence over her is limited. It is folly for you and me to be enemies, when we might deal reasonably together."

"As you tried to
deal
with me before, Lady Claudia?"

She retreated through the doors. "Come inside. There is a dangerous madman abroad."

He followed her as reluctantly as if he walked into a cage. What had become of the trap the hunter had set? Did it still lie in wait where the monster might come upon it?

"I promise that I will not bite," she said with a twist of her lips. "I think it best if we continue our discussion in the sitting room, where we will not be disturbed."

"Am
I
to be permitted such a privilege, my lady?"

She chose to ignore his sally. "If you will wait here but a few minutes, I will make certain that the household is asleep.
Eden has already retired."

"I wish to see her."

Claudia bit hard on the inside of her lip. "Very well, if you keep quiet and do not wake her. I'll meet you in the sitting room at half past the hour."

He nodded dismissively and strode for the hallway. The moment he was out of sight, Claudia put on a pair of gloves and went directly to
Eden's secretaire in the sitting room.

The letter she sought was still there. Though Rushborough's invitation had come a week ago,
Eden had struggled over her response, seeking just the right balance of gratitude and distance. She had declared her initial efforts much too warm, and a number of rejected missives lay stacked in a drawer. Claudia found the one she wanted and carefully smoothed it out on the desk, where the invitation still awaited an answer.

Very little remained to complete the letter. Carefully Claudia arranged the invitation and the response so that they appeared to have been laid aside, forgotten in a moment's distraction.

It might not have the desired effect. She did not pretend to understand a monster's motives and concerns. But there was a chance, and that was enough.

She left the room and waited in a place where she could hear Shaw return. Soon he came down the stairs, mouth set, and went into the sitting room.

Silence.
The hall clock ticked. She crept close to the door and listened.

Footsteps.
Then the rustle of papers.
An indrawn breath.
More
rustling,
and then footfalls approaching the door.

She hid until he had gone down the hall, into the drawing room, and out the garden doors.

Success.

The garden doors were wide open to the night air. Claudia closed them firmly.

The papers in the morning room had been shuffled and replaced in almost the same position she had left them. She picked up the invitation, read it through once more, and then perused the reply she had chosen for Hartley's edification.

My Dear Lord Rushborough:

It is with pleasure that I accept your kind invitation to join your house party at Caldwick on the eighteenth of October. I offer my congratulations on your recent purchase of a hall that has a fine reputation throughout the
Lake District. I shall look forward to meeting old friends and making the acquaintance of those I have missed.

I had meant this letter to be a formal acceptance, but now I find that I must add a message of a more personal nature.

I have been a very poor friend indeed, and I have much to atone for. Your invitation is proof enough that you have forgiven my lapses of hospitality and manners. Your very generous offer to spend time with my son, in spite of his lack of social graces, goes beyond the duties of friendship.

I regret that I have neglected to show my gratitude properly these past months. In my distress over recent events, I have behaved intemperately. I hope and trust that my visit to Caldwick will go a little way toward making up for any wounds my poor judgment may have incurred.

Yours in friendship,

Eden
Winstowe

Claudia set down the letter and laughed.

For the first few days after he read the letter, Hartley
could not bring himself to return to Hartsmere.

He knew he was unreasonable. He even told himself that it was for the best. But he had come so close to a declaration that would bind him to
Eden and her world forever—and it would have been a terrible mistake.

Deep in his woods, he raged and brooded. He beat his antlers against inoffensive trees and tore the ground with platter-sized hooves. The animals fled his company, and he could not blame them. Even Tod avoided him.

Eden
.
Eden.
Eden. She filled his every waking thought and even his dreams. He might stay away for days, but no longer. He was a slave—he, a lord of the Fane—grateful for any scraps she might throw his way.

Scraps left from the lordly table of the Marquess of Rushborough.

After he had exhausted his wretched emotions, he went to Hartsmere's kitchen, where Mrs. Byrne often spent her evenings chatting with Cook. When the Irishwoman saw his face, she glanced at Mrs. Beaton and quickly left the table.

"Come to my sitting room," she said.

He slumped in the chair she offered and refused the tea. "How is
Eden?" he asked.

"Worried.
Waiting for you."

Mrs. Byrne's forthright directness was what made her one of the few mortals he could endure as a confidante. He had been aware for some time that she knew of his relationship with
Eden and had not disapproved.

Hartley suppressed a scowl. "She has not come looking for me."

"There was word of an intruder," the older woman said dryly. "Would it not be unwise for her to venture into the woods at such a time?"

He stared at his boots. "I looked for the villain. He is nowhere to be found, nor did anyone else in the dale see or hear of him. He has not come back." His first wild thought—that it might even be
Eden's aunt who had set the hunter on him—he dismissed as ridiculous. She was a town-bred lady, with no knowledge of hunting or weapons, and certainly none of the Fane.

"Then he is gone," Mrs. Byrne said, interrupting his thoughts, "and good riddance." She sighed and took a sip of tea. "I heard the whole tale from Lady Eden the morning after it happened." Her knowing gaze hinted that she had surmised much more than she had heard. "But something else besides the attack happened that night. It has kept you away from the woman you love so soon after she almost died."

He nearly bolted from his chair.
The woman you love
. How dare she speak so, as if she knew his mind?

He subsided back into the chair, stunned by the intensity of his feelings. Was it
love, that
he had been prepared to give up Tir-na-nog and stay with
Eden until death? That he would sacrifice everything, even Donal's chance at perfect happiness among his own kind, to remain with a mortal woman?

He could not absorb the idea of it, let alone the emotion. And at the moment his jealousy and anger were sufficient.

"Something else happened," he agreed heavily. "I learned that
Eden has dallied with me while she prepares to go to another man." The last words came out as a growl, and Mrs. Byrne raised her brow.

"Is that it, now? The other man being the marquess, I presume?"

"Who else?"
What was the point of this conversation? He only humiliated himself before a mortal to no purpose.

"Ah, jealousy."
Mrs. Byrne set down her cup. "It makes men do very foolish things, such as reaching false conclusions about those they care for.
The greater the love, the worse the fool!"

Hartley bristled. He considered striking Mrs. Byrne mute or calling a mouse to chase her.

"Even a fool can read," he snapped. "I saw the loving missive
Eden wrote in accepting Rushborough's invitation to his house in October," he snapped. "She made it very plain that she regards him as—" He could not complete the sentence. "She made me no promises, as I made her none. It is natural that she should—"

"Of course," Mrs. Byrne interrupted. "An incriminating letter, which undoes everything you and the lady have shared this summer, and which you happened to run across at a very convenient moment."

Something in her tone made him study her with greater attention. "It was in the sitting room."

"And who was the last person you spoke to before you found it, pray tell?"

"Lady Claudia," he said slowly. "She met me when I came to see
Eden, after I searched for the trespasser. She was uncommonly civil, even—" He slammed his fist on the arm of the chair, and Mrs. Byrne winced.

"Lady Claudia is a very clever woman," she remarked. "She knows what has gone on between you and Lady Eden. She has grand ambitions for the girl, and you are an obstacle. But she also realizes that open interference will only drive
Eden into your arms. So she must find other ways of separating you."

"But
Eden did write that letter. I—" How could he admit that he had smelled
Eden's unique scent all over the paper, when his senses were beyond those of men? No one but she could have written it. She had simply not intended him to see it.