The Forest Lord (34 page)

Blindly she reached down for him and laced her fingers in his hair. He looked up, licking the moisture from his lips.

"Now," she said, holding his gaze with all the discipline she had left.
"Now, Hartley."

"Is that a command, your ladyship?" he asked softly.

She hated him, then, as much as she loved him. "Do you want me, Hartley Shaw?"

His answer was everything she could have wished.

With a haste that betrayed his ardor, he stripped off his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers. She was granted her first full look at his maleness and knew there must be very few like him. Certainly Spencer had not even come close.

But her body would take that magnificent instrument, every inch of it, with gladness. She gazed at his sleek, strong muscles, the power of arms that she had seen before and the thighs that she had not. His stomach was flat and ridged, without an ounce of fat. The coarseness of a laborer was nowhere to be seen,
nor
a single scar or imperfection of flesh, form, or bearing.

She reached for him, and he came down over her. He kissed her, and below she felt his hard length stroke her inner thigh in search of admittance.

"I have waited for this,
Eden," he said. "Look into my eyes. I want to see yours when I take you."

His brazenness only excited her more. She clutched his shoulders and lifted her hips. His first thrust was true, deep, and potent, but she felt only a slight discomfort that was gone in an instant. Then
came
the withdrawal, and a second thrust, and the steady rhythm that began the ascent to paradise. She wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him deeper still.

And he looked into her eyes. If he blinked, she did not see it. The deep green of the forest, of growing things, swallowed up the black of his pupils. Pleasure, satisfaction—she could only guess what lay behind them.

She knew what her own eyes might all too easily reveal. She drew her emotions inward, hoping he wouldn't see.

He cupped her buttocks and watched her face as he drove his full length into her. She let her head fall back, panting in time to each thrust. She was nearly there, nearly at the top of the mountain. He need only guide
her the
last few steps.

One.
Two.
Three.
For the second time in her life, she felt what it was to burst free of her body and soar skyward without wings, higher than any bird that came to Hartley's call.

She was not alone at the summit. Hartley shuddered, his hips moving faster and faster, and then his weight settled on her, damp and heavy. He remained there for a span of minutes, breathing deeply, while she put her arms about him and nuzzled his damp skin. His muscles clenched, and with a groan he lifted himself on his arms and rolled off.

So suddenly it was over.
Eden lay very still while the pulsing of her body quieted and the rapture faded. Gradually she remembered that her breasts were bare and her skirts around her waist. She tugged her clothing into some semblance of modesty and turned her head toward Hartley.

He lay on his back with his arm flung over his eyes. He looked cold, bereft, when all either of them should feel was joy and completion.

"Hartley?"

He said nothing for a long, long time. Her happiness shriveled, sinking into the pit of her stomach like sour wine. Why would he not even look at her? Was he ashamed? Had she proven so great a disappointment to him?

Or was he disgusted that he'd had his way so easily with his employer, and now had no further use for her?

That thought was too painful to bear.
Eden sat up, trying without success to fasten her stays and gown. Suddenly Hartley was beside her again, and her clothing fell into place at his lightest touch. He was, she thought bitterly, very adept with women's garments.

"Thank you," she said. She tried to stand, but Hartley caught her arm and helped her up, like any true gentleman who had his way with a woman.

"I will take you back to the house," he said. That was all. His voice was flat and uninflected. He would not meet her eyes.

Why, Hartley? What have I done
? But such questions would rob what little composure she had left, and she refused to so humble herself. All her knowledge of men—men of the
ton
, every one—could not help her now.

She still had her rank and her dignity. Squaring her shoulders, she marched in the direction she thought they had come. Hartley caught up and moved a little ahead of her, taking great care not to touch her again.

What had she been thinking about her aching heart? Now she knew that it could break into many pieces and still keep her body alive. Yet cursing herself for a fool was futile. If it happened all over again, she knew she would do the same.

Even if Hartley Shaw never knew that she loved him.

The plan upon which he had built his hopes was a
failure.

Hartley ached with the need to touch
Eden, to reassure her with soft words, erase the stiffness of her expression and carriage with caresses she could not resist.

He did not touch her. He could not even speak. The loathing he felt for himself in that moment muted him as surely as any spell.

He had seduced
Eden for a purpose: to give her a child of her own and sever the ties that bound him to her and to her world. Once he was free, his Fane heart would return to its normal condition and cast off the guilt that tormented him at the thought of taking Donal from his mother.

But his heart had not changed. Or it had, but not in the way he had wished. He felt as if
Eden had taken a more binding possession of his soul even as he found release deep within her body. And he knew that she was not with child.

It seemed impossible that he had failed in so simple a task. Had he lost the ease of his old powers? Yet the foliage grew lush at his command, and the animals were fertile.

Where was his mistake? Had her very body rejected his seed, as she had rejected him six years ago?

That knowledge was bitter indeed.
Doubly so because he felt her pain and refused to ease it with the words mortals required at times such as this.

Words he could not speak. His only relief lay in the fact that she had declared herself incapable of love for a man. That was one loss he'd not inflict upon her.

They walked in painful silence back to the house.

Eden
left him at the door and didn't look back. His immediate thought was to find Donal, but he knew that would be
Eden's desire as well. He turned, instead, for the stables and set about grooming the horses, seeking some measure of peace in the repetitive motion and the easy company of the animals. He worked until the horses gleamed like satin, yet he found no serenity.

The night was well advanced when the fox slipped in the stable door and curled about Hartley's feet. The horses snorted and sidled, but only for a few moments. Tod was no threat to them.

Indeed, Tod was far more distressed than the horses. He quickly changed from fox to man and bounded up to the top of the stall partition. He grimaced and rolled his eyes, pulling at his hair as if he would tear it out by the roots.

"No more," he said. "No more, my lord. Can't stay by the mortal and keep her away, not now."

Hartley dropped his brush. He had almost forgotten that he had set Tod to create minor mischief in the dale to keep
Eden occupied and away from Donal while he taught his son how to use his Fane gifts. He suspected now that
Eden would not have objected. He had caused her much vexation.

Tod looked pleadingly at Hartley through his long red lashes. "Release Tod from his duty, Mighty One, Tod begs."

"What is wrong, Tod?"

"She weeps." He bared his teeth and covered his eyes. "Weeps and weeps in her cold chamber, so soft no mortal ear could hear. But Tod hears. Mortal weeping makes Fane mad.
Can't go back!"

Hartley leaned against Atlas's flank and closed his eyes.
Eden's tears might disturb Tod, but it was Hartley they were likely to drive mad. She wept because of him.

Why? She had admitted her desire, and that desire had been fulfilled. Was not honesty what she wanted? But the thought of her pain plunged into Hartley's gut like a deadly knife of Cold Iron. His Fane senses betrayed him, seeking the mother of his son and carrying back to his ears the low, broken sounds of her sorrow.

He could not bear it.

"I release you from your task," he told Tod in a whisper.

Tod leaped from the stable wall and hopped from the back of one horse to another, feet never touching the ground until he had reached the door. Atlas snorted and slued his head about to gaze at Hartley.

Every other equine head followed suit. Large brown eyes watched him, waiting for his decision.

There was none to make. Hartley cloaked himself in a glamor of invisibility and strode from the stables to the house. He entered the servants' door and took the most direct route to
Eden's room.

The door was closed. All was silent within. He had never been inside
Eden's chambers. They were not for the likes of Hartley Shaw, not even when she took him for her lover. No one would see him enter now. Her honor was safe.

He
was the one in danger.

The door opened at a pass of his hand. His Fane eyes pierced the darkness, found her huddled upon the bed like a child being punished for some wrong she did not understand.

"
Eden," he said.

Only the tiniest movement betrayed that she had heard him.

"
Eden, look at me."

She obeyed, but surely not to please him. Her face was puffy and
streaked,
her eyes red and filled with defiance. "Go away."

He remained where he was. She felt across the counterpane until her fingers connected with a pillow. He could see her debating whether or not to use it as a weapon, and the crack in his heart extended. What weapons did they truly have against each other?

"Leave, at once," she whispered hoarsely.
"Unless it is your intention to… ruin my life completely?"

"I will not, and it is not. No one has seen me." He advanced farther into the room.
Eden recoiled—not afraid of him, but of
herself
, and the desire they shared. In the confines of her chambers, it was almost smothering.

Hartley understood such fear. His heart raced like that of a stag pressed to extremity by ravenous hounds. He was beyond what mortals called common sense. But he knew what must be done. They both were torn, he and Eden—torn between necessity and desire, repulsion and obsession. Neither of them would be free until each had his or her fill of the other:
Eden free of shame and temptation, Hartley free of guilt and mortal obligation. He had the power to give
Eden pleasure beyond mortal imagining… and there was still a child to be made.

It was time to strike a new bargain.

"
Eden," he said, "I have come to make a proposal."

She laughed under her breath. "Could it be that you intend blackmail, now that you have had your way with me?" She sat up, ineffectually smoothing her crumpled gown. "Perhaps you believe that I have some hidden wealth to pay you off. After all, you know I would do anything to protect my son."

Her suggestion astounded him. When had he ever done aught to make her attribute such motives to him?

"Oh," she said with feigned contrition. "Do I offend your honor, Hartley? I do apologize."

He laughed at himself, at her folly and his. His intended treachery was of a much more permanent nature.

He went to her bed and knelt beside it, humbling him-self. "You are wrong,
Eden." He released a long breath. "It is not my way to beg pardon, but I ask yours now if I did anything to put such thoughts in your mind. If I have behaved wrongly, I… am sorry."

She drew the crumpled bedcover up to her shoulders, her face expressionless. "Behaved wrongly? By stealing my virtue, which was gone long ago? I can hardly claim to be an innocent victim, can I?"

Her mockery cut, but not at him. She turned her bewilderment into rage against herself, like a beast tearing at its own limbs to escape man's trap.

Such confusion, such bitterness, such passion accompanied one human emotion above all others. But she had said she could not love again. He had no cause to doubt her. They had lain together, pleasured each other… that was all.

Or was it? Did he misjudge her now, as he had six years past? Was it possible… that she loved him?

Loved him as she had claimed to love him before, when she'd believed she had nothing to lose and the world at her feet?