Hearing the beginning of woman’s chatter, John retreated, and the children tumbled after him. Eden relaxed.
“That he is, your ladyship,” Mrs. Singleton said, beaming at the little boy. “It meant the world to us that you were there for Adam’s christening.”
Eden could never become used to such open gratitude from the proud, self-sufficient dalesmen. “I am glad that you have found happiness, Mrs. Singleton.”
“As you have.” The woman’s words were so soft that Eden barely heard them.
“I beg your pardon?”
Mrs. Singleton smiled, an expression any other woman would recognize. “Hartley Shaw is a fine man. It was a kind thing he did for Samuel, letting him win. No one in the dale believes he was born to a farmer’s life. That is why people are glad.”
She spoke with great forwardness, but Eden heard sincere support and friendship. Mrs. Singleton as much as said that the dalesmen of Hartsmere approved of the “secret” affair, when they might have despised her for taking a lover who compromised her class and thus her standing as their lady.
They sensed, as she did, that Hartley was no ordinary countryman.
“Thank you,” Eden said, deciding to be equally frank. “What you say gladdens my heart. But others beyond the dale may not feel as you do.”
“No one beyond the dale will ever find out.” Mrs. Singleton smiled again knowingly. “We gossip, right enough, but we also keep our secrets.” She performed an incongruously formal curtsy. “Be happy, my lady. That is all we ask.”
It was all anyone could ask. Whatever fairy tales might be told in the dale, whatever the nature of the man she loved, Eden intended to make her happiness last as long as possible.
Chapter 15
In the elder days, the night of Lammas had marked the beginning of one of the year’s great celebrations, the time of the harvest. The festival honored Lugh, last leader of the Tuatha de Danaan, adopted as a god by many of the peoples of these islands. They had called the festival Lughnasadh.
Old days, almost forgotten. But Hartley remembered the one they had called Lugh, a great Fane lord who had fled when men of the cross came to Albion and Eire. He, like Hartley, had never sought mortal worship; with it came responsibilities that no Fane savored. Most were glad to abandon it and return to the homeland.
But traditions lingered. All day, working in the gardens and stable, Hartley had smelled the Lammas bread Mrs. Byrne baked in the kitchen. He had also seen her making a corn doll, constructed of braided straw, in the privacy of her sitting room. In times not so long past, she might have been burned as a witch for such practices.
As he might have been, had others seen his true nature. But centuries ago he had ceased revealing himself to mortals, except on rare occasions.
Now he waited for the one mortal who wielded power over him as none ever had. Here, at the edge of the wood, where crickets sang and darkness came early, his thoughts were filled with Eden and the long, sweet night that lay ahead.
For the past month there had been many such nights, each one only increasing his hunger for Eden. Claudia had been absent from Hartsmere longer than anticipated, and with her absence came a freedom that made Eden ever more daring. She had become a wanton in truth. She hardly bothered to hide her feelings from the servants; twice he had slept in her bedchamber until dawn.
At last he, incongruously enough, had been the one to caution her. His warning came none too soon. Claudia had returned yesterday, and the way she smiled at Hartley in the garden made him understand why mortals referred to cold-running blood. Though Eden insisted that her aunt was unaware of her physical relationship with him, he could not dismiss the elder woman as that much a fool.
He had lived too long among the beasts not to sense danger. But she was still mortal, and limited in her powers. He set Tod to watching Claudia and put her from his mind. Tonight she kept Eden late at the house, but nothing short of disaster would prevent Eden from coming to him.