“Truly?”
She smiled up at him. “Of course. I have much experience with tenants. As Lady of Carridan Hall I was frequently amid those who lived on our land.”
He lifted a bronzed hand and gently placed it over hers again, trapping her fingers in his. “I would greatly appreciate your help. I feel . . . I feel a bit lost in all this.”
She stared at their fingers. Hers pale. His dark. And the way they fit together so easily. “Well, between Elizabeth, Harrow, and myself we shall see you the best landlord in all England.”
His gaze softened. “I should like that.”
She looked away, her own heart suddenly racing at the intimate idea of helping him in such an important task. “I’m glad.”
Ian paused. “Listen.”
She frowned but then realized that Ian was mesmerized by the sound of the rain falling upon the roof, a repetitive, hypnotic beat that soothed her aching nerves.
Dragon whinnied and nickered.
“Do you suppose he likes the rain?” Eva asked.
Ian laughed, finally, a full, relieved sound. “I think he’d like a treat.”
She grinned. “Of course.”
“Shall we?”
Eva nodded and followed Ian out of the stable and into the hay room. He started for a loose leaf of it, but he hesitated and glanced back over his shoulder. “You looked happy just now.”
She wove her fingers together. “So did you.”
He smiled, then held out a hand to her.
It felt so strange, as if he was asking her to trust him. Just like he had done to wild and wounded animals so long ago. And like all the wounded creatures he had reached out to, she couldn’t resist. Despite the misgivings in her heart, she crossed to him and took his hand. The largeness of it, rough, strong, tender, swallowed up her fingers.
“Eva, I have been unkind—”
She started to shake her head but stopped herself. “Yes. You have. But you have also done what you thought necessary.”
He tilted his head down, his black hair dancing over his brow. “And if I did something now that I thought necessary? Would it anger you?”
The scent of spice about him as he leaned closer sent all her senses clamoring. “It would depend what it was.”
He looked as if he were about to speak, but instead he wrapped his arms about her waist, pulled her to him, and took her lips in a sudden, white-hot kiss.
At first, she couldn’t think. She could only feel. Every part of her felt this was right. From the way his hands spanned her back to the feel of his lips over hers, teasing her, to the way he sheltered her in his strong arms.
Without hesitating, Eva grasped his shoulders, pulling him close, desperate to find something beautiful with him. Effortlessly, he swept her up, cradling her against his chest. In two short strides, he took her to the soft hay piled against the stable wall and laid her down against it.
Gazing up at him, she felt safer than she had in a lifetime.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, his voice rough against her ear as he trailed his fingertips down her gown to its hem.
“And I—” She breathed.
At her admission, he slipped his hands under the silken folds and clasped her ankles. “You are so strong, Eva.”
She laughed at that, even though his touch on her delicate, stocking-covered skin was delicious torture.
“Don’t laugh,” he said softly, sliding his hands up to her calves, massaging the muscles lightly. “You are stronger than anyone I have ever known.”
Her laughter dimmed and tears filled her eyes. Tears of wonder that, even now, he should see her as someone like that. How could he when she still did not? “I wish I could believe it.”
Oh so slowly, he raised her full skirts up her thighs, his rough fingertips skimming the delicate flesh where her hip met her leg. “Then let me believe for you, until you do yourself.”
His words were more powerful than any compliment she’d ever received, and in that moment his belief did give her strength. Determined despite the slight remnants of fear, Eva took his hand in hers and slid his fingers between her thighs.
His eyes flared for a moment, but he needed no further urging and he gently stroked the soft flesh in a way she’d never experienced.
Eva gasped, shocked as her body suddenly arched as if his fingers were molten hot. But it was not pain she felt. It was desire. To her own mortification, she parted her thighs further, desperate for whatever it was he could give her.
His fingers teased her opening and he groaned. “You’re wet, my darling.”
She frowned. She understood what he meant. She could feel that under his fingers she was hot and slick, but she hadn’t ever experienced such a thing during her wifely duties.
“I want you so much,” he said, his voice tight as if he might shatter just touching her.
As his thumb swept over her, a cry of pleasure wrenched from her throat. “I want you, too.” She gasped.
He stared down at her, awe lighting his gaze. “Then we—”
“Eva?” Elizabeth called from the front of the stables.
Eva jolted and sat up so quickly she nearly smacked her face against Ian’s shoulder. Carefully, he clasped her shoulders, then lifted a finger, pointed it at himself, and shook his head.
She nodded. Quickly, her body aching with longing, she climbed to her feet. Brushing her hands down her skirts, she strode out into the hall that led back toward Dragon’s stall.
Elizabeth stood at the entrance, her gaze sweeping over Eva. “Where have you been? I feared you were caught in the rain.”
Eva forced a smile to her lips, though she was sure her cheeks blazed with embarrassment and—God help her—lust. “No. I was here.”
Elizabeth nodded, though her gaze drifted toward the back of the stable. “Of course. Well, come, then. The rain has stopped and it’s time to take tea.”
Eva had no desire to go back to the castle. Every part of her cried out to return to Ian and let him teach her the pleasure he had just begun to promise. “I think—”
“My dear, there is much we must work on.” Elizabeth beckoned. “Now, come along.”
Eva bit her lower lip, willing the last vestiges of the fire Ian had fanned to life within her to dim. Silently she followed Elizabeth back toward the castle, resisting the urge to look back toward the man who was stealing her heart. All over again.
Eva looked nothing like a lady should.
At least, she looked nothing like the bedecked, girls’ school-trained, giggling women of the ton. Where they were beautiful, unthinking, and fairly useless, Eva was a woman come from the world beyond. Or one who had communed with the other side.
The gown of deepest purple moiré silk clasped her slender frame and her skirts belled out over wide crinolines, emphasizing her far too narrow waist. Pale breasts and shoulders were draped by black eyelet lace. Everything about her suggested a specter.
Ian couldn’t tear his eyes away. His heart ached at the sight of her. This woman who had been to the brink of undoing made him feel, so deeply. It terrified him. Him. A battle-hardened man. A man who had looked his friend in the face as he’d died and held no second thoughts in his actions.
If he was not careful, he would find himself sinking into unruly emotion. The moment he’d laid her down in the straw and given way to his desires, he’d sunk. Thank God Elizabeth had interrupted them. He would never forgive himself for tasting such temptations when his goal was to see her independence restored.
Even now, as fragile as she appeared, he knew she would not crack as she took labored steps toward the dining room. Her strength was a tempered metal that would withstand the cruelest of blows.
All his heart longed for was to keep her safe from those tests of strength. They would come. Regardless of his wishes, those tests were inevitable. Life was too cold to allow her freedom from them. Unlike all the others who had left her alone, he would be at her side when she faced them. He would g
ive her strength, not take it from her.
He followed her, quietly. Observing each subtle movement as she seemed to drift into the dining room. She didn’t even look at the portraits of his family’s military exploits upon the walls or glance at the crystal dripping from countless candelabras and the massive chandelier at the center of the room.
Eva was recovering. At the rate she was mastering all her once familiar skills, she’d be able to storm London soon. And given her present progress, he had little doubt of her ability to convince the world she was as sane as anyone. Her beauty alone would strike those about her with awe and admiration.
Eva stood with her shoulders back in queenly posture. The effort tightened her beautiful face, and it was clear she felt as if she were drowning under the weight of her evening gown. But she still prevailed.
One of the footmen held her chair out, and she struggled to maneuver her full skirts under the table. Ian stepped toward her, but his aunt threw him a warning glare. Perhaps in all this she would be the true general.
Slowly, Ian lowered himself into his chair at the head of the table. Eva sat to his left, Elizabeth to his right. They remained thus in perfect silence until at last a footman, in gold and sapphire, brought the soup course forward. The pale cream red lobster bisque filled Elizabeth’s bowl, then Eva’s, then his.
Ian found himself staring at Eva, waiting to see if she would pick up her silver spoon and finally eat something besides a bite of scone.
Elizabeth ignored the awkward silence, clasping her spoon in her long, aristocratic hand. She dipped the silver into the bisque and said firmly, “Eva, dear, this is one of Mrs. Anderson’s best recipes.”
“Yes.” Eva snapped her gaze up to Elizabeth, anger and something else crackling in her eyes. “Thank you.”
For a moment, Ian was certain she was going to stand and march from the room. But even he knew this was no longer about hunger, but will. Eva was hungry again, of course, but she was still not accustomed to the rituals of dining. He was tempted to tell her she didn’t have to eat, even though he knew he should hold her down and pour the damn bowl of soup down her gullet, she was so thin.
Eva’s clenched hands uncurled. Slowly she reached for her spoon. Every movement took an eternity. She slid the spoon into the bowl, scooping up a small bite with perfect precision. Ian held his breath as she brought the soup to her lips and swallowed.
She shuddered, her fingers tightened about the utensil. At last she looked from Elizabeth to himself. A smile played at her lips. “Am I indeed so fascinating?”
A relieved laugh rolled from his throat. “Yes, Eva. You are.” He placed his own spoon down and reached across the table, taking her free hand in his. “You always have been.”
As their eyes locked, determination flickered in her gaze. In that moment, he understood that she was pulling herself out of the abyss not only for herself, but for him.
And it rocked his heart with a sudden tenderness.
She curled her fingers around his. The earlier grin twisting into a wry smile. “One could never say I was cause for ennui, I suppose.”
“No one could say that about either of you.” Elizabeth’s brows lifted with amusement as she took a long sip of wine. She patted her curls. “You’ll soon see me completely silver, what with all your goings-on.”
Eva laughed. “My apologies. A true crime against beauty. I shall endeavor to behave as a model young lady.”
Ian couldn’t stop himself. His snort was distinct. Instantly his eyes widened, ready to apologize. He was an utter ass. Here she was trying her utmost, and he’d made fun. But only because the Eva he had known had been so wild.
Eva pulled her hand back from his. She rapped his knuckles playfully. “Do you laugh, sir?”
“Indeed, no.” He bit his lower lip, admiration and relief warming his heart. “We always expected you to be fascinating, but never quite proper.”
Elizabeth nodded with mock seriousness. “Yes. No one would ever believe you to be yourself if you were a stuffy young miss.”
“I see. So I may behave as badly as I please as long as I sparkle and my conversation is diverting.”
Ian laughed, the first hint of joy and hope sparking inside him. “Exactly.”
“And, of course, I must not lose my composure at the mention of Adam.”
The mirth around the table died suddenly. Elizabeth’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Ian’s smile faded, the muscles in his face hard with tension. It was the first time she had said her son’s name so calmly. So freely.
“No.” He breathed softly. “That you cannot do. Though you deserve to.”
Eva pulled her hands into her lap. Her gaze fell to the gleaming table. “You must make me a list. Of things I am not permitted to do.” Her voice tightened. “Lest people think me mad.”
“Eva?” Elizabeth’s voice punctured the air. “Why do you say such a thing?”
Eva slowly lifted her face. A white mask of pain. “Because if I do not behave, I will be sent back.” She cut her gaze to Ian. “Isn’t that true?”
The floor seemed to fall out beneath him. She’d never spoken like this. It was the clarity of her mind coming back. The laudanum was gone now . . . but the hunger for it was not. Her body must ache for it, even as she regained the ability to think and calculate the reality of her situation.
Ian sat forward, desperately wanting her to understand how serious he was. “I will never let that happen.”
Eva nodded, though doubt still lingered in her eyes. “So I will keep my side of our bargain. I shan’t act mad. And you will have less need to keep me safe. Yes?”
“Yes,” he echoed. How he wished he could roar that she needn’t pretend that all was well. He couldn’t. She was correct. Every moment she acted well was a moment closer to her freedom. “Your wisdom does you credit.”
She smiled tightly, then slowly pushed her chair back. She stood with complete dignity. “No, Ian. It is your wisdom that has got me this far. Without you, I would still be scratching at my cell.”
Ian’s breath stilled, hating the sadness in her voice. “Thank you. But that is undue praise.”
She smiled wryly. “I do apologize, but I am tired and will retire. If you insist I eat the remainder of my soup, do send it up. I shall do nothing to interfere with our plans to prove I am not a lunatic.”
With that, she turned on her heels and swept from the room.
Ian started to stand, ready to charge after her, to take her in his arms. Every word she’d uttered crashed down on him. Punishing him.
“Wait,” Elizabeth urged. “You must let her go.”
“I don’t wish to.” He had to make Eva understand how much she was worth. How nothing could steal away the beauty that had always made her the most special woman in the world. A woman worth giving up one’s liberty, one’s soul for.
“She is not a child,” Elizabeth said as her hand darted out and touched his arm. “Even less so now that the drug has ebbed. You cannot control her.”
Ian stared at the empty doorway, wishing he could call her back by the sheer force of his thoughts. He couldn’t control her, nor did he wish to. “Of course not.”
“If you so desire to help her, let her find herself again.” Elizabeth eased her steadying touch and stroked his arm. “She will. I see the fire in her eyes.”
Ian gave a single sharp nod. “I wish for her to recover now.”
“She must recover at her own pace.”
Ian shook his head. “I cannot see her so mistreated again and it is exactly as she says. We must prove her sanity. Officially. With that proof, she will no longer need a guardian. If we cannot, Thomas will be able to send her back. The sooner she is stable—”
“How much simpler things would be if you could simply marry her,” his aunt said.
Marry her. The idea rang through his head, sweet and torturous. “That can never happen. Not as long as Thomas is her guardian.”
“Indeed, that is true.” Elizabeth st
ood and looked down at him. Her serene face drew into a resolute countenance. “And now I must say something you will not like. You cannot allow Hamilton’s death to keep affecting the way you treat her—”
“I will not listen—”
“You will,” she replied evenly.
Ian slammed his hands on the table and shoved his chair back. “No, Aunt. Perhaps I am just like Eva. One step from madness.” He choked back the sudden pain. “You have no idea about Hamilton—”
“Haven’t I?” his aunt said so softly it was barely more than a whisper. “You were always the better of the two. He was a good boy, but he was never like you. Never as strong, nor as true.”
Ian couldn’t bring himself to look at her or let her words sink too far in. He’d spent months focused on how he’d let Hamilton die. Living for a chance to make amends.
Still, he couldn’t forget the part he’d played. Nor the look on Hamilton’s face.
Then again, when he had taken Eva in his arms, when he had taken her lips with his, wasn’t that exactly what he had done? Forgotten?
“She is not here, my lord.” Mrs. Palmer lifted her chin, refusing to allow her failure to induce rashness in her plans. It didn’t matter that rage still simmered just beneath the surface of her skin. Burning. Hungry for revenge. Now it was tempered. Ready to strike even the man before her, if necessary.
Lord Carin’s thin-lipped mouth narrowed to a slit before he sneered. “Not here?”
Mrs. Palmer glared at him. Did repeating her make what she had said untrue? Or was he indeed as dim as he seemed. No, not dim. Lord Thomas Carin had a lack of personality, which might lead one to believe he was less than astute. But like herself, that was not the case. Surfaces never accurately reflected the person within, she found.
For instance, who would have believed that behind her polite facade lived a woman who would stop at nothing, no matter the blood spilled, to destroy those who humiliated her? Not many. Not even Lord Thomas, who, in her short experience, had a calculation to his action that suited the most intelligent of men.
His pale blue eyes hardened to pinpricks, and that mouth . . . It twisted into a hideous fleshy manifestation of his rage.
The Dark Lady: Mad Passions Book 1 (Mad Passions (Eternal Romance)) Page 18
