THE FOREST LORD By Susan Krinard

“I will never give my daughter to a monster,” he cried. But even as he spoke, he felt his legs grow numb. When he looked down upon them, he found them brown and covered in bark and rooted deep into the earth.

“I have guarded this land for many of your centuries,” said the Forest Lord, “and I grow weary. It is time to rejoin those who have gone before me to the Land of the Young. But I must bring an heir of my body to replenish our race. Your daughter will bear him for me.”

“Eden is too young,” Lord Bradwell begged. “Do not ask this of me.” He felt the numbness rise to his waist, and the beasts of the wood drew closer. He knew then that he had no choice but to agree.

“I will do as you demand,” he said, “but only if you present yourself to my daughter as an honorable man of stature and court her as a mortal man would do. If she is seen to be with child and has no husband, she will be ruined.”

“I have no wish to harm her,” said the Forest Lord, frowning with terrible wrath. “I will wed your daughter for the time the child grows in her body. I will appear in any guise necessary to protect that virtue which you mortals so value. But after the child is born, I will take him and leave your world forever.”

Lord Bradwell bent his head. “You are without pity.”

“What do mortals know of pity? The pain your daughter suffers will be small, and she will be rich for the rest of her life.”

Gathering his courage, Lord Bradwell looked into the Forest Lord’s cold eyes. “I have one final condition. You must win my daughter’s love. Nothing can be taken by force or trickery or fey magic. She must give herself willingly. ”

“I agree to your conditions.” The Forest Lord waved his hand, and Lord Bradwell felt his legs again. “Now, go. Do what you must to prepare my way, and come to me when all is ready. But do not dally, or I will send my brothers to remind you of our bargain.”

With shrieks and cries, the beasts of the forest drove Lord Bradwell from the wood as he had driven the hare and the stag. But when the earl sent for his daughter and looked upon her face, he knew what he had truly done.

Today is my wedding day. Eden woke to the sounds of hooves and carriage wheels on the cobbles outside the open window. The morning air was cool and moist with the promise of a spring storm, yet she didn’t mind. The rain-laden breeze carried all the freshness of life and hope and a shining future.

She stretched in the unfamiliar bed, and her fingertips brushed the warm body beside her.

My husband, she thought. Cornelius.

She closed her eyes and trembled with sheer happiness. The very core of her being was still imprinted with his form, his scent, his masculine strength. She had not guessed that to lie with a man could be so wonderful. And to think they had almost waited—waited until Gretna.

She was glad they had not. Gretna Green was a mere five miles away. By day’s end, they would truly be husband and wife, with a lifetime of such nights to look forward to.

“Cornelius,” she murmured, snuggling against his chest. “It is morning.”

He stirred but did not open his eyes. She spent the glorious minutes studying his face. Any woman who saw him now would be stung with envy at her good fortune. Surely no man had ever been so beautiful and yet so strong. She allowed herself the liberty of tracing her finger around the curve of his jaw, over the firm set of his lips, across the straight, dark brows.

Six months ago he had been a stranger, a distant cousin come from India, and of little interest to her. After all, she did not intend to remain in country exile forever; the tedious winters she spent with her father eventually ended. With the coming of each spring, she returned to London, where she had spent so much of her childhood under Aunt Claudia’s fashionable wing.

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