The Dark Lady by Máire Claremont Page A

eyes. He really did believe he hadn’t done enough.
    This was the new Ian. A man never content. A man driven to the edge—not unlike herself. Except he had kept his demons imprisoned. “You have done enough, Ian.”
    A grim resolution shadowed his visage. “I will not have done near enough until I have you entirely safe,” he said firmly. “I don’t care what I have to do.”
    Safe. The word mocked her. Once, she had known what it meant. “I don’t think I shall ever be safe.”
    His dark brows drew together. “Why would you say that?”
    “What I’ve done. Tonight. And before . . .” Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew why she would always be in danger, but she couldn’t recall it. An imageof Thomas, his envious face, white lipped and angry, hovered in her vision. She blinked and it vanished. “I don’t know. I just won’t be.”
    Ian hesitated for a long moment.
    Eva struggled not to shift under his unrelenting gaze. She knew what he was thinking. He loathed her. Loathed her for letting Adam die through utter foolishness. How could he not? Her stomach churned again. She swallowed back her pain and fear. It had been the one sacred charge in her life, the protection of her son. And was she responsible for his death?
    The answer was a resounding yes, though she could not give utterance to it. It was she who had insisted on taking the curricle out into the rain. On lashing the horse with the whip, to hand deliver a letter to the post, a letter that she could no longer recall. And it had been she who had tucked her son in his basket beside her. Despite the warnings, despite the roads, she had driven out and her son had not come back.
    Ian didn’t move, his body like a statue when he broke the silence. “I swear, as long I breathe, I will dedicate myself to your safety.”
    She opened her mouth slightly to protest and then she realized, with a stunned and selfish gratitude, that he was in absolute earnest. It burned in his eyes with a terrible brightness. It struck her he was just as mad as she. Perhaps his demons did indeed own him, too. “Thank you.”
    “It is an honor and my duty to you.”
    “Duty?” she echoed. Duty had destroyed them. Duty had married her to a man she didn’t love. Duty had sent Ian halfway around the world to protect an unworthy friend.
    Once, they had been friends and would have done anything for one another. She, Hamilton, and Ian . . .they’d been inseparable. The “Merry Band,” as Hamilton’s father had called them. But as they’d grown older, cracks had formed in their perfect friendship. And slowly, over time, Ian and Hamilton had begun to compete against each other for so many things. For marks at school, for Hamilton’s father’s affection. But Hamilton had never been quite as good as Ian.
    And because Hamilton had not been able to bear that, their unbreakable friendship had cracked amid lies, disappointment, and the desperate wish to recover that which could never be had again. She narrowed her eyes, wondering whether Ian would ever forget the night Lord Carin had admitted to loving him more than his eldest son. How that love had first twisted Thomas and then had driven Hamilton away from the path of right. It was that night Ian had promised to protect Hamilton in India and the night she had promised to uphold her arranged betrothal. A sharp wave of sadness crashed upon her at such memories, and she swallowed back the misery. “Why are you here?”
    He shifted uncomfortably on the seat, abruptly looking away. “I—I promised.”
    She drew in a slow breath, her limbs growing heavy. An unfortunate side effect of her medicine, even if it had been some time since her last dose. It wouldn’t be long till she hungered for more. “Promised who?”
    “Hamilton, Eva.”
    She could have sworn he wasn’t telling her the full truth. But once again, perhaps it was just her imaginings. She nodded. Hamilton. She’d tried so hard to love her husband, even though her