Read Online The Forest Lord by Susan Krinard - Free Book Online

like a member of the
beau monde
rather than an Irish peasant."
    "You may say what you will about me and my foolishness, Aunt, but never speak so of Donal."
Eden balled her fists and slowly released them. "I will teach him whatever he needs to know. You need not be bothered."
    Eden expected a sharp setdown, but instead Claudia sighed and touched her hand to her forehead. "You mistake my meaning," she said in a voice of utter weariness. "I believe I shall lie down for a while."
    Struck by remorse,
Eden offered to escort her, but Claudia waved her off and went up to her room alone.
    Eden stood at the bottom of the stairs, confused by her own decidedly mixed emotions.
I thought I had learned to live day by day and drain every drop of pleasure from each moment
.
    But that was before she found purpose again—not in her own social advancement and amusement but for the well-being and happiness of someone else.
    Donal. She had meant to go after him, in case the horses he had heard were attached to a carriage. Setting aside other concerns, she hurried from the dining room.
    She passed Armstrong in the hall. He blinked at her, the tray of tea balanced in his hands.
    "Did Master Donal come this way?" she asked.
    Armstrong pointed with his chin toward the rear of the house. "To the stables, my lady," he stammered.
    "Thank you. We will not be needing the tea." To save time, she went along the hall to the green baize door leading to the servant's wing and continued down a narrow corridor that smelled of stale cooking. Small, grimy windows let in enough light to reveal a door.
    It led to a yard littered with every conceivable sort of debris, from broken crockery to ashes from the stove. In warmer months it would be overgrown with weeds. To the right lay the remains of a formal garden. A gravel path led to a cluster of outbuildings, including the stables, set some distance from the house on a level area at the foot of the fell.
    The morning was eerily quiet. Not so much as a raven croaked or bare branch creaked—until the silence was rent by a harrowing yell.
    It came from the stables.
Eden picked up her skirts and ran as swiftly as her impractical shoes and mourning dress would allow.
    She came upon a scene that shocked her speechless. In the muddy stable yard a groom struggled with a fractious horse. The beast pawed the air and bared its teeth, leaping from side to side in an effort to escape the tether that held it captive.
    Dangerously close to the battle stood Donal, looking on with fascination. As
Eden watched, he took a step toward the horse, one hand outstretched.
    No
! The scream didn't make it past
Eden's throat. She ran straight for Donal at the same moment that the groom yanked the horse out of the boy's path.
    The horse gave a high-pitched cry of rage. Hooves lashed out and struck the groom in the shoulder. He fell, groaning, and the horse whirled about in search of new enemies.
    It saw Donal. Ears flattened, and the neck arched like a snake about to strike. Donal didn't move, didn't try to run.
    "Stop."
    The command was so formidable that
Eden obeyed, though an instant later she didn't know if it had been aimed at her or the horse. Her vision cleared, and she saw a man—a stranger—standing less than two feet from the horse, as calmly as if he confronted a kitten.
    His body was the only barrier between the beast and Donal, but it was enough. The horse quieted instantly at the man's whispered words. The stranger raised his hand level with the horse's muzzle, but the animal did not bite the offered flesh. Its teeth remained closed while its lips brushed lightly over the man's fingertips. Its ears came up, twitching this way and that. The rolling whites of its eyes disappeared.
    Donal stared at the stranger as he had stared at the horse, fearless and fascinated. Taking care not to startle the animal,
Eden edged behind Donal and prepared to snatch him away.
    "He'll be all right," the man said, without turning. "Atlas is no