The Dark Lady: Mad Passions Book 1 (Mad Passions (Eternal Romance))

by Claremont, Maire

  He strode up behind her, bent his head, and pressed a soft, assuring kiss to the delicate skin where her nape met her shoulder. Afraid of her next words and determined to stop them, he grabbed her shoulders, whipping her toward him. He knew another kiss would change nothing. But he had to try. So this time he took her mouth in a soft, sacred kiss. The instant touch of her flesh awakened that voice once again. That primal voice that would say nothing but mine.

  She softened under him, seizing his shoulders as if he might disappear into the night. Triumph at her acceptance gave him all the encouragement he needed, and he cupped her face gently, angling her mouth to his.

  As their tongues tangled, he held her with a passion that would not be checked. No matter what she or the world said, she was his. Carefully, he drew back, his blood pumping now with the need to mark her as his own. To make love to her. If he could have, he would have laid her down in the field where she’d nearly been taken from him and done so. But she deserved more. She deserved everything he could offer. “You are mine to protect.”

  “No,” she whispered, her voice slicing through the freezing night. “I will not have it. I will not.”

  Ian stilled under her sharp retaliation, the warmth inside him chilling at her harsh words. “What then?”

  “I cannot.” She sagged against his grasp. “Too many people have died. Too many.”

  “I promise,” he said firmly. “I will not die.”

  She lifted her eyes to him; they were as lifeless as they had been in the madhouse. “Do not make promises you cannot keep.” She ripped herself back from his grasp. “God laughs at such promises.”

  Every part of his body urged him to wrap her up in safety. Of course, she was worried for his life. When everyone she had loved had died. But now was not the time for such fears. Now was the time to prepare. “Eva, I want you to stop and think. We cannot stay here.”

  “Are you not listening?” she hissed. She clenched her fists and lifted them in protest. “I cannot do this to you. I must leave you. Or I will be the death of you.”

  Ian ground his teeth, knowing exactly what he had to do. “Everything I do is my choice. My choice. You are my choice.”

  “Am I?” she mocked, her fear turning into something ugly. “Would you be here if not for Hamilton? If you didn’t feel guilt?”

  The words hit him more cruelly than the open wound stinging upon his back. He stared down at her, knowing the answer she so needed to hear. Knowing it to be the one answer he couldn’t give. He stared at her silently, trying not to hate himself for the self-serving bastard that he was. “I don’t know. How could I know what might be? All I know is what is.”

  Her face creased, lips pressing together. She looked away from him, then nodded.

  God, she was going to cry. What kind of an animal was he? “Eva?”

  She sucked in a harsh breath, then faced him. Soldiers who marched into battle couldn’t match the resignation printed on her countenance. “No. You spoke the truth. We both know why you are here.”

  “I will protect you,” he said, as if that would make up for the unforgivable blow of his earlier words.

  She remained silent, her arms hanging softly at her sides, her face a mask, unreadable now to him.

  “We must go,” he said tightly.

  “Of course,” she said, her voice devoid of any emotion. “Your wound—”

  “No,” he cut in quickly, formulating what must be done. “To London. Tonight.”

  Her brows drew together. “What—? Elizabeth—”

  “Elizabeth will understand. She will follow us to London when we send word. But we must get you as far from Blythely as possible.” He pointed into the night. “That filth you pleaded for will be back.”

  “Mercy is for fools. Is that it?”

  Ian looked away, then wiped a hand over his face. “Yes. Mercy is for fools.”

  She nodded. When she lifted her face to him, the bitterest smile tinged her lips. “Then hell awaits us both. Does it not?”

  Wincing, Ian took a step forward. Coldness surrounded her. Why had he not realized that she, of all people, desired mercy? “That’s not what I—”

  She wrenched her hand up, silencing him. Slowly she picked her way through the cold grass, her feet bare. She paused before the man lying broken on the grass. “And him. What shall be done with him?”

  Ian lowered his head, knowing exactly what had to be done. Knowing what path they had set on now. “I want you to return to the house. I’ll watch to make sure you get there safely. Change into serviceable clothes. Find linen for a bandage. Leave a note for Elizabeth and send a servant for the footman by the castle. Meet me by the stable in twenty minutes. Can you do that?”

  “You’re serious?” she asked, not lifting her eyes from the dead man.

  “They want you back. Badly. And the only hope we have now is to take you before a Chancery Court.”

  “I’m not ready.” She breathed, wiping her hand at the blood still lightly flowing from her temple.

  “You will be.” He heaved a breath, fighting off the ache in his shoulder. Fighting off the desire to care for her. To ease her pain. But the only way to do that was through decisive action. “Go. Run,” Ian ordered as he started for the body.

  “Ian?” she asked, her voice unsure.

  “I have done far worse. Now go,” he growled.

  Eva’s eyes locked on him for a moment. Confusion filled them. The confusion of being confronted with a stranger. No doubt, Eva had never imagined the things he was capable of now.

  She ran, her small form flickering toward the house.

  Ian let himself focus upon her retreating body for a moment, wishing so many things. Wishing Hamilton and he had not gone to be toy soldiers in a bloody land. Wishing Hamilton had not revealed such an ugly part of himself. Wishing he himself had not had to choose between justice and loyalty.

  Nothing would be the same after tonight. Even if there were dark recesses to their souls, they were bonded in this. Bonded in death and loss.

  Slowly, despite the cut along his shoulder blade, he hefted the man’s weight over his shoulder. The ocean would be a good enough grave for him.

  Chapter 22

  They arrived in London to a house swathed in silence. Eva could not recall a more urgent or relentless ride. Not even their coach ride across the country could compare with the way they had taken to horseback and flown toward London as if the devil himself were on their heels.

  Cold permeated her skin. She wasn’t sure she would ever be warm again. From the damp of the night air to the chill stealing into her soul, the comforts of her body in a state of warmth seemed a distant memory.

  It would be only a matter of time before they followed her here as well. She longed to feel safe in Ian’s London home, but nowhere was safe. Not anymore.

  Hugging herself, Eva glanced around. Eerie in its silence, the house reminded her of an oversized and unloved dollhouse. Waiting for its mistress to come and fill it back with the happiness of imagined worlds.

  Not a soul had been in the house since Elizabeth’s last visit to town, at least two months previous. Every surface was covered in white sheets. Ian was somewhere looking for candles and coal.

  She took a step forward, her feet quiet on the polished wood. Her breath puffed out like cotton before her face. Eva lifted a gloved hand to her lips.

  At last, her hands didn’t shake. Not in the slightest. This freedom from the ache of life without her laudanum was entirely new. Every part of her wanted to savor the moment. Every part of her also knew that there were far more pressing matters than enjoying the relief of functioning with normalcy.

  Ian had killed that man. Every time she closed her eyes she could see Ian’s face. The blood streaked against his bare chest. And his eyes. Terrifying to behold. Terrifying in her defense.

  Slowly, she turned in a circle, eyeing the circular foyer. Trying to make out objects in the darkness. Shadows danced in every corner. How had she let Ian
come to this? Hadn’t he deserved to know some touch of peace? Especially after India.

  “I’ve got them,” boomed Ian’s voice from the hallway to her left. Yellow-gold beams flickered on the cream-colored wall as he neared.

  When he stepped back out into the foyer, the light hovered over his features, leaving his face barely visible. Even his dark clothes added to the effect, giving him the air of an avenging spirit.

  Eva blinked at her own foolishness. “I’m glad. I’m chilled through.”

  He started for the stairs, coal bucket in one hand, candelabra in the other. “Come. We must remedy that.”

  Eva hesitated for a moment. They were moving toward something, something she could no longer stop, and yet she was slightly wary of it. They’d shared so much intimacy already, but even so, her heart pounded at the idea of being completely alone with him with no one to interrupt them. Despite her protests against his involvement, she’d waited for this moment for so long she’d been certain it would never happen, but now she could barely catch her breath. Finally, she moved forward, her stable boy’s clothing allowing for easy movement. “Do you need assistance?”

  He laughed. “No, love. If there’s one thing I am good at, it’s carrying. All army men are, you know.” In the darkness, the faint glimmer of a smile showed itself. “Don’t let them tell you different.”

  “Well, I shan’t, then.” She smiled tentatively at his attempt to lighten the mood.

  They made their way up the sprawling staircase silently. They had said only those few wild words to each other after Ian had killed the man.

  She was grateful to him. So grateful.

  But nor could she quite fight the feeling that she was dragging him down into a dangerous world, rather than him pulling her up. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

  “We’ll sleep in my room.”

  She nodded her assent. The very idea of dwelling in one of the spacious town rooms by herself was unthinkable. They paused before his closed door and Eva realized he was giving her the chance to change her mind. To sleep separately if she insisted.

  In answer, she reached out to the gold-plated handle and pressed down. It swung open silently.

  She walked ahead of him into the unlit room, careful not to run into the darker shadows that were clearly furniture.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll bring servants and guards in.” Ian headed straight to the fire, placed the candelabra on the mantel, then poured in a heap of coal. “Tonight we’ll have to make do.”

  She didn’t respond to what seemed the obvious. Instead, she headed toward the four-poster bed and whipped the white duster sheet off in one swift move. The thick goose down coverlet was icy to the touch.

  Within moments, the fire crackled heartily. Ian brushed his hands along his breeches and turned toward the bed. “There, now. We’ll be warm in no time.”

  Eva tugged at her cloak string, but it had become absurdly tangled in their wild ride.

  Ian’s eyes glowed a wicked green in the amber light, his large frame silhouetted by the fire as he came close. He didn’t ask. He simply stepped forward and brushed her hands away. Easily, he began to work at the knot.

  His close proximity sent a shiver down her spine. They had avoided the slightest contact since their kiss on the lawn. Now his boot tips brushed hers. The scent of horse and light sweat filled her senses. It was surprisingly appealing. The nearness of him urged her to reach out and slide her hands up his strong shoulders. To feel the reality of him beneath her touch.

  Ever so carefully, Eva looked up. She’d been so determined to let him go. For his own safety. But now she needed his embrace. She needed the comfort it could give her just as she was certain he needed her touch. Something happened within her when he laid his hands upon her body. Something sacred and sweet and full of healing fire. There was no fear when she was in Ian’s arms.

  Tonight, she longed for that. Longed to know the fullness of it.

  Ian was the only man she’d ever trust. The only man she could ever open her heart to. And if she gave him her heart, how could she deny him her body? She couldn’t. Not now.

  Gently, she traced her fingertips over his jawline, then cupped his face with her palm. “I want you, Ian.”

  His face was tense. Yet, under her touch, his gaze softened, heating. Heating with the promise of so much more than pleasure. Slowly, he turned his face, pressing a soft kiss against her palm.

  A small, amazed breath escaped her lips at how that soft caress sent shivers of want over her skin. She lowered her hand, offering herself to him. Knowing he would guide her in the mysteries of lovemaking.

  A few tugs and slips of the ribbon and her cloak whooshed to the floor. She stood quietly before him in the oversized stable boy’s coat and britches.

  Eva’s chest rose and fell in quick breaths as his sure, strong fingers lingered over her collarbones, tracing them. She wanted him. Desperately. They had been racing toward this moment. They had been racing toward so many things, but this . . .

  Slowly, she took his hands and moved them to the thin tie at her throat. Almost daring him to take the next step. To unlace the rough fabric and slip it over her head.

  His eyes roved over her face, questioning, burning. “Eva—”

  She placed one finger over his lips, then slid her hands down over his broad shoulders. Hard muscles tensed beneath her touch. The feel of him stirred the most powerful emotions within her. But above all was the wish for more. She arched up onto her toes. Taking her courage in hand, she pressed her lips lightly to his.

  As though he had been holding back a veritable storm of desire, Ian pulled her against him, his arms enfolding her. The hard feel of his body against hers was always such a shock. Through layers of linen and wool, she could feel the strength of his ribs, the length of his muscled abdomen, and the hardening of his cock.

  Sensation swept her up. Completely trusting, she gave herself to it. She wove her fingers into his thick hair. Ian’s warm mouth kissed her softly, slowly. Holding her as though he would never let her go, at once he coaxed and ruled her with his kiss. Fleeting, then demanding.

  She moaned into his mouth. He stole the opportunity to slip his tongue between her parted lips. Eva gasped, still astonished by the passion he could fire within her. All else she’d known of lovemaking had been perfunctory. A duty. Something one did lying still in the dark.

  Nothing like this.

  Now there was no turning back.

  They both knew there was no one to interrupt them. To stop this foray into passion. Unlike before when they’d kissed, this passion was slow, a smoldering flame being tended carefully. She opened herself to him, allowing him to gently stroke her tongue, then suck it into his mouth.

  Taking up his seductive challenge, she licked at him tentatively, tilting her head to better receive his kiss. Her hands moved from his soft hair to his back, her fingers digging through his coat, pulling him tighter.

  In one swift move, Ian had her in his arms, cradled against his chest. Without breaking the hot kiss, he carried her the few steps to the bed and set her down gently. He eased her back, kissing her again and again, in slow, hypnotic movements. Giving. Not taking.

  Eva closed her eyes, longing to be lost in sensation. In fire. She wanted to be lost in fire. Burned with desire. Alive. Truly alive at last.

  She reached for his coat, shoving at the shoulders. Ian pulled back from the kiss. Never letting his gaze leave her face, he sat back on his heels. Quickly he yanked the garment off and flung it to the floor, flinching only slightly, though his knife wound must have pained him. Without fear or hesitation, Eva sat up, slid her hands to his waist, and tugged his linen shirt free of his trousers.

  Ian looked down at her, his eyes half closed, full of wonder. Her fingers brushed the naked skin of his taut abdomen. Instantly, heat coiled down her spine, urging her to work faster. To touch more. She slipped the shirt up and then over his head.

  She let her attention drop to his chest. Each of his
breaths seemed to come with slow, powerful control. It was beautiful, the way his muscles contracted and expanded with each movement. Little nicks and scars were scattered over his chest. Eva winced at this new revelation. How had he received them? He’d never once mentioned being wounded.

  Without thinking, as though she could somehow heal the raised flesh, she leaned forward and kissed a jagged scar just above his ribs.

  Ian tensed. Coiling back, he reached down and pulled her away.

  They’d both known so much pain. Neither of them wanted to remember. Eva lifted her hand to his face and cradled his jaw. The soft stubble of dark beard scratched at her hand. He was so strong. So strong. Yet it was just below his surface. The pain that drove him.

  He curved his face into her palm, his eyes closing. Peace hovered over him for a moment. “Eva.” He breathed against her.

  God, how she wanted to speak. Wanted to tell him how much of her heart he had stolen. She couldn’t. Not yet.

  Though she could not give him her love, there was something else she could give. For one ashamed moment, she hesitated. Her body was no longer that of a young girl’s. She’d borne a child . . . . Her body wasn’t lithe and perfect.

  But no matter what she’d been through, no matter what her body had endured, she wouldn’t be ruled by fear. Not with Ian.

  Deliberately, Eva took handfuls of her shirt and drew it over her head. The fabric dropped from her fingertips. Cold air caressed her skin. She’d changed too fast for a chemise or corset. She was glad of it.

  Ian’s face lit with desire as his gaze wandered over her body. “I have never seen a more beautiful woman.”

  She started to laugh, but he shook his head and her laughter vanished.

  “Every mark, Eva, every scar . . .” He caressed the lines at her hips and stomach that had formed during her pregnancy. “These are proof of what a strong, beautiful woman you are. A woman, not a girl.”