The Dark Lady (25 page)

The force of the move sent the knife flying from the attacker’s hand.

“Ian!” Eva shrieked.

Instead of her voice giving him pause, it only pumped the need to save her harder through his veins. Ian drove his knee down onto Dan’s neck. He jerked, then stilled.

Dan’s partner took a step back, his eyes fixed with horror on the dead man. “You’re m-mad.”

Ian ignored the blood trickling down his back. He reached out and seized the discarded knife resting on the wet grass. In one swift move, he jumped to his feet. With a knife in each hand, he started forward.

The man shook his head, backing away. “You’re bleedin’ cracked!”

Ian didn’t answer, only took another step forward. He threw the first knife, and it struck the thug’s shoulder.

A wild animal shriek tore from the abductor’s lips and he staggered under the force of the blow. His hand
shot to the wound. “Look, we can come to an arrangement!”

Ian weighted the other knife, trying to decide which bit of soft flesh to cast it into.

The man’s throat worked, his eyes flashing with panic. “Please. I’ll tell you anything—”

“There’s nothing to tell, is there?” What could he say? That Mrs. Palmer had hired him? That they were coming for Eva?

Ian swallowed, glancing at Dan, dead on the ground, and then back to the man cowering before him. Slowly, he lowered the blade. As the heat of bloodlust ebbed from him, it was clear he could not do this. Not in front of Eva. “Run, you prick. Run!”

The thug nodded wildly at his sudden good fortune. Without another word, he spun on his booted heel and ran into the night. The sound of his panting breath faded away, mixed with the thud of his boots on wet earth.

Ian flung his remaining knife to the ground and turned to Eva. On her knees, her thin white chemise was smudged with dirt and wrapped about her thin body. Her skin shone star white in the dark night. Slowly she stretched out a hand to him. Shaking, her fingers hovered, waiting for him to take them.

Ian gasped in a mouthful of cold air, the feeling of his fear releasing him. He rushed to her and dropped to his knees. “Eva.” He breathed harshly. His hands reached up, running over her naked arms. “I almost lost you.”

In answer, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her slight body to his hard one, then looked up into his face. Her eyes darted over him. “Never. You will never lose me.”

With that, he lowered his mouth to hers, a conqueror’s kiss, claiming what was his. What had always been his. What would always be his. She gasped against his mouth,
tense for a moment, before she gave herself up to it. Her body molded against his. Her hands clasped his shoulders, pulling him fiercely close.

He tangled his hands in her hair, a sort of desperate desire and need to claim her racing through his veins. She opened her mouth, offering, inviting, and he didn’t think twice, driving his tongue into her as much as he wished to drive his cock into her sweet body. To claim her.

For now. This was enough. This melding of souls in a kiss. Out of fear of loss, out of celebration of survival and triumph against their enemies, they kissed. The wild sweetness of it intoxicated Ian, until his thoughts disappeared and a single pulsing word dominated his being.
Mine.

Her hand trailed to his shoulder and she froze. He winced. Even in ecstasy, he couldn’t deny the burst of pain. Carefully, she pulled back from his kiss. When she brought her fingers away, they glistened black in the darkness. “Oh, my lord.” She breathed, through kiss-swollen lips.

His breathing began to slow from the ragged, impassioned force it had known just the moment before. “It’s nothing.”

Eva wiped the blood on her chemise, billowing about her frame in the evening breeze; then she took his face harshly between her hands. “It is not nothing.”

She grabbed on to him as though she were certain he might disappear at any moment from her grasp. Her gaze burned with a wild intensity. “They could have killed you. Do you not understand?” Her voice came out on a jagged rumble. Unlike any sound he had heard from a woman. “I could not have borne it. Not again.”

“Eva—”

“No.” She dropped her hands from him and staggered
to her feet. She stared out into the night. “This happened because of me.” She took another staggering step, her bare feet pressing down the grass.

“Stop,” he snapped. Unable to bear the pain in her voice. Longing to have her back in his arms, where she belonged. He jumped to his feet, ignoring the slow, pulsing throb in his back.

She swung back toward him, her face taut with fury. “Stop what? Stop telling the truth?” Eva shook her head wildly, her chemise sliding over her shoulder, baring the pale flesh. “You have risked your life too many times already. Too many—”

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.

T
hey 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.