Hartley felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders even as a greater heaviness settled in his heart. “How can that be?”
A tear spilled over and trickled inelegantly down the side of her nose. “He was taken from me at birth.”
By your father? Did he steal the child from you, as he did from me? Hartley braced his hand on the wall and lowered his head. Eden’s face was so close that all he need do was bend another inch to brush her neck with his lips. It would be so easy to comfort her.
For now he understood the veil of sorrow that he had sensed upon their first meeting at the stables. She was not telling the whole truth, but of one part he was certain: She had not willingly given up their son.
The barrier between them had fallen, the one that he had worked to destroy since that encounter. This trust was what he’d hoped to gain. But it gave him no pleasure to see her weeping, to know that she had suffered in a way he hadn’t expected.
He had stayed away from her this fortnight because he had felt his own defenses crumbling—the defenses that should not have been necessary against her. Her emotions were spilling over into his own thoughts, his own heart. But a mere two weeks had not purged her influence over him. He wondered if a hundred years would be sufficient.
He could not afford human weakness now. “Who would take a child from his own mother?” he demanded.
She brushed at her face with a show of spirit. “Does it matter? He is with me. He is safe.”
“Was he in danger?” He placed his other hand on the wall, caging her in. “Would someone have harmed him?”
“No. But now he can live the life he was meant to have. I will be certain that he never lacks for anything in this world.”
“Except for one thing. Why will you not acknowledge him as your son?”
“I have good reason. You may believe that or not as you choose—but…” The last of her pride deserted her. “Will you tell me how you learned of this? It is important…”
“Because the truth will shame you? Who was his father? Was it not your husband, Lady Eden?”
Her head jerked up, bringing her mouth a hair’s breadth from his. “His father is dead.”
“Was it your husband who sent Donal away, because the boy was not his son?”
She avoided his gaze. “If you care for Donal… if you care for him at all, you will not speak of this to anyone.” Her eyes met his. “You must realize that he will have much more opportunity in life if he is considered legitimate. Please.” She reached up as if to touch his face.
He pulled away. If he knew anything of mortal society, Donal’s existence would have been hidden from Winstowe as it had been from him. Had it been hidden from Eden as well? Had she believed her own son dead?
How could she forgive the man responsible—the very man who had broken his most solemn vow to the Forest Lord?
“Do not trouble yourself, my lady,” he said at last. “I will not reveal your precious secret.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Thank you.” Once more her fingers brushed his cheek. He expelled his breath and inhaled sharply, taking in her warm, almost floral scent.
“I think I understand why you feel as you do,” she said. “You lost your own child. You cannot bear to see it happen again.”
He hardened his heart against her tenderness. “There is a condition on my silence; you must dismiss this governess.”
She dropped her hand. “She is here for Donal’s good. There are so many things I am not qualified to teach him. He barely knows me, and I am not… accustomed to children.” She swallowed. “I love him too much to provide the discipline a boy requires. I would do him a disservice to smother and overprotect him now.”
Hartley knew that he should encourage her separation from Donal. He had been angry with her for casting their son to strangers, yet it would be far more merciful to both her and the child if any attachment between them was weakened.