Free The Dark Lady by Máire Claremont Page A

trying to get a glance at Eva from under their matching black-and-gold braided hats. No doubt the men were stunned by the events of the night and this strange addition to Ian’s vehicle.
    Only Digby had dismounted; the others kept their respectful distance, one at the back of the coach and the other up on the driver’s seat.
    Ian threw a warning glare at Digby, who stood too close for comfort. Immediately the man stepped back.
    “Come, Eva,” Ian said more firmly, shaking off the strange sensation of being surrounded by those ready to aid him. Ready to secretly judge, even as they bowed and scraped. “There will be a bed.”
    She snuggled deeper into the soft bench.
    Christ, it would be so much easier if he could just sweep her into the damn inn. “A bath?” he tried.
    Her eyes fluttered. “A what?”
    He smiled despite his unease. It was as obvious as day what would please her. “A nice hot bath, Eva, love.”
    She uncurled and stretched. “Oh, yes.” But in a moment, the languid movement vanished. Her eyes widened and her indigo gaze darted left to right. “Where—?” She gulped, the color draining from her face. She scrambled to the corner of the coach. “I don’t—”
    The intensity of her sudden alarm shocked him. He reached out, but instead of moving toward him, she jerked back.
    “What’s happening?” she asked in near panic.
    “Remember.” He remained so still it almost pained him. “It’s Ian,” he said, as softly as he would to a spooked horse. “You’re free.”
    Her eyes alighted on his face, her countenance as pale as the snow falling outside. The tips of her fingers dug into the seat. Her entire body tensed as if she expected a blow. For several seconds she stared at him; then she drew in a slow breath. “I thought it was a dream. I thought you were a dream.”
    “No.”
    “There are times when I am never quite sure.” Shepressed her lips together and her gaze darted away from his. “The difference between dreams and reality.”
    “It’s only going to get better,” he lied. If anything, the next days would be agony for her. She had not faced the world in two years, and she would have to face it now without laudanum. Within the next twelve hours, she would begin to feel the very serious effects of being without her drug. He’d seen it. Officers and enlisted soldiers alike desperately trying to wean themselves off opiates after prolonged injuries. It was no pleasant thing.
    “I—” She peered out the coach; then she sat back, her eyes wide and glassy with fear.
    “Eva, we must go in.” Soon they would start to draw attention, not to mention freeze in the morning chill.
    She stared at the opening and the street just outside it as if it were a living beast. “I—I understand.” Nodding to herself, she slid forward. “Of course.”
    He smiled reassuringly. He took his greatcoat from the seat and placed it across her lap. “Put this on. And—” Reaching behind him, he slipped a long, thick burgundy scarf from a neatly stitched pocket in the coach wall. “We’ll wrap this about your head.”
    She laughed softly. Then slowly her hand came up to touch her chopped hair. “I do look bizarre.”
    “Eva, you will always be beautiful.” Gently, he placed the wool scarf over her head. His fingers caressed her cheeks, marveling at the reality of her cool skin against his rough fingers.
    “Do you need help?” she whispered, her own hands lifting. Touching his.
    Swallowing, he pulled his hands back and lied. “I can’t tie a knot or bow to save my soul.”
    “Luckily, I can.” Her fingers shook and it took her several seconds to work one end of the scarf around theother. But she did it. Then she took the greatcoat and slipped it over her own shoulders. “Ready now.”
    “Good.” Ian stood, hunched, and swung down out of the coach. His boots squelched into the icy mud. Mud. His gaze turned to her slippered feet. The rattiest bits of leather covered them. “Come, I’ll