What the Earl Desires

by Burke, Aliyah

  “Amazing,” he muttered, his whisky bathed breath fanning the side of her neck.

  Najja allowed herself a small smile and threaded one hand through his hair, holding him close. Colin had fallen asleep, whatever had him stressed and drinking had been held at bay and now he rested with angels. Her touch remained gentle as she waited for him to go deeply under. Then she began to untangle their bodies with calculated caution.

  The air cooled her immediately and she wasted no time in redressing. Her movements a bit stilted from what she’d just partook in but she didn’t care. The experience had been worth each ache and pain.

  Once she’d been set to rights she stared down at the man lying on the blanket-covered chaise. He was magnificent, no question. A slight sigh escaped as she covered him with a blanket from another chair then left him alone. There was no reason to look back, they’d shared what they could. Now the time to part had arrived.

  Still, Najja paused at the heavy door and stole one final glance. Memorized the chiseled features, softened by slumber, and hair the hue of rich chocolate. The rest followed, the blanket unable to keep her mind from recreating his likeness.

  “Goodbye, Colin.”

  With those two words spoken, she left.

  Colin woke from the most sated slumber with the feeling something was wrong. And missing. He remained still and tried to ascertain what caused him to feel that way. Najja. His eyes flew open. He remembered sampling the delicacy of her body. He hardened at the memory. Where was she?

  He sat up and searched for any sign of her in the room with him. There was none. Merely him, the almost extinguished fire, and the blankets covering his naked body.

  Had he been bad? I fell asleep on her. Great job, Colin, he admonished himself. As he gathered up his clothes he couldn’t help but smile at the recollection of Najja in his arms. So responsive. Never had he had an experience like he’d had with her. It was…indescribable and he wanted to do it all over again. And again.

  Back in his room, he rang for Berry knowing it was time to dress anyway. Once the tub had been filled with steaming water and he was alone he dropped the blanket and stepped in. Colin paused when he noticed blood on his leg and shaft. Brows converged as he sank into the water. Had she been a virgin? His heart thundered as he rushed through his bath. No, he didn’t sleep with virgins. Avoided them like the plague actually.

  Was that why she left? He’d not been extremely gentle as he would have been had he known.

  He dressed with haste and hustled to the blanket he’d worn upstairs. Before the fire, he frowned even more upon his discovery of blood on the material, which had been under them last night. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.

  “Everything okay, my lord?” Berry asked from behind him.

  Wadding up the blanket, he threw it to the side. What was he going to say, ‘I am fine, just slept with a virgin?’ He ignored Berry’s query and asked his own.

  “Who told you?”

  “Hard to keep a secret in this house, my lord.” Berry gathered the blanket he’d just tossed.

  “Make ready for London. I want to leave as soon as possible.”

  “Right away, my lord.”

  “Stop calling me that, Berry,” he snapped.

  Silence met his demand and when he glanced up he found he was alone. Frustration welled up within him. He had other things to do, more pressing issues, yet all he wanted to do was find Najja. And discover the truth.

  A virgin. He had been her first. He wanted to be her last as well.

  The darkness had not been chased away yet when he entered the breakfast room yet the sideboard sat laden with food. No Adryses though.

  Lord Adrys and his family entered as he finished up his meal. He gave them a nod.

  “Morning, Colin,” Adrys said on his way to the standing silver pot that held coffee.

  “Morning.” He glanced over the women. “Ladies.”

  “My deepest condolences on your losses,” Adrys said.

  He didn’t even ask where or from whom they got the news. “Thank you.”

  Colin moved his gaze back to Jo who sat at the other end of the table. Her expression confused him a bit. Where was Najja?

  “My lord,” Abel said appearing at his side. “Your carriage is ready.”

  “Thank you, Abel.” He downed the remainder of his coffee and pushed to his feet. “I regret I must leave. Stay as long as you need.”

  Farewells over, he headed for the front door, dreading this trip to London. Jo’s voice halted him before he could leave.

  “Lord Clifton,” she said.

  He faced her, allowing his heavy overcoat to settle upon his shoulders. “Colin,” he corrected, accepting the offered gloves from Abel and pulled them on. He had been Colin to her before he came into the title and would continue to be so.

  “I just wanted to thank you…for everything. Accepting Najja along with all of us.”

  I accepted her all right, right into bed. But it had not even been a bed, he’d taken her on a chaise. Correction, taken her virginity on one.

  She wrung her hands together and shrugged her shoulders. “I hope to see you again, Colin.” Jo dipped a curtsey and slid back into the breakfast room.

  There sat this huge urge to seek out Najja. No. He was now the Earl of Clifton and he had to get to London. Find out what happened and get the affairs in order. Then turn his attention to the fact one of his own relations hired men to kill him.

  Information he’d not have gotten without Najja. The man had been terrified of her, flinching at her slightest touch. How she did it or what she’d said to him, Colin had no idea. He just got the results.

  Smothering a groan, he trudged out into the frigid winter morning and climbed into the waiting carriage to be drawn by a matching pair of grays. Their arched necks, pricked ears, and pawing hooves made him smile despite the gravity of the current situation.

  The door swung shut and he rapped on the ceiling, with a smooth motion they were underway. He stole a peek past the drawn curtain as they headed off and had to restrain himself from ordering a halt.

  In front of the stable, he spied Najja upon Fineas. Her attention was on the stable hand and it bothered him. He wanted it on him. Alone. In the next breath she lifted her head and his gut clenched with need and something else. Something more. Then he could no longer see her. The rolling conveyance took him further from her and closer to the last place in the world he wished to be. London.

  He dozed in between stops and had pulled his mask of control on when the carriage rocked to a stop before the family’s London seat. Cracking his neck, he alighted from the interior once the door had been opened, nodded his thanks and glanced up at the driver.

  “Get warm, Tobias.”

  “Aye, milord.” With a flick of the reins they moved on and he headed for the front door.

  The large house looked less than inviting. He hated it here. Miserable childhood. Mentally ready, he barely slowed when the door opened silently. A footman appeared and he handed off his hat, coat and gloves.

  His parents’--well, mother’s now--butler stood there watching him, a cold expression on his narrow face. Not a lot had changed since childhood. Except for the fact Colin was no longer intimidated by him.

  He arched a brow and held the reed-thin man’s gaze. “My mother?” he asked in a tone that could rival the outdoors for its chill.

  “In the receiving room, my lord. She has a visitor.”

  Only this man could make “my lord” sound like a disease. His own tone cold, like winter. Colin didn’t respond just made his way to the door of the receiving room. Without knocking he entered. The look had changed since his last visit but it couldn’t take away the memories.

  His mother, clad in black, glanced up at the intrusion. Her red-rimmed eyes widened at the sight of him. The person with her he didn’t recognize so he put his gaze back on his mother. She looked frail. Henrietta Faulkner, Countess Clifton.

  “Colin,” she gasped, her hand, w
hich clenched around a black lace handkerchief, hovered over her mouth.

  The next moment she had him in a surprisingly strong embrace. A shock, for he couldn’t recall the last time she’d even hugged him. He returned the sign of affection, his heart tightening in an odd way.

  When she stepped back, he expected her to make some cutting remark about his longer than fashionable hair, the earring, or how this entire fiasco was his fault. She did none of those things. Instead she took his hand and led him toward a loveseat.

  “This is my son, Colin, Earl of Clifton. Colin, this is Lady Penelope Hurst.”

  He bowed. “Madam.”

  Lady Hurst was as wide as his mother thin. Blonde hair pinned up under a dark blue hat. Her eyes a softer hue of blue and gentle.

  She got to her feet and said, “I will be by tomorrow, Henrietta. Send for me if you need me.” Her gaze swung to him. “My lord.” With agility her size belied, Lady Penelope Hurst swept from the room.

  “Sit,” his mother said, tugging him down beside her.

  “I am sorry, Mother.” He spoke in soft tones.

  “As am I, son. For a great, great many things.” She sniffed. “I just do not know how…how…”

  Her sobs tore out his heart. Without thought, he wrapped his arms around her and held her while she cried.

  “We will figure it out,” he murmured. Even though he had a good idea of where--or rather who--it would lead back to.

  After a few moments she pulled back and dabbed at her eyes. He could see the armor falling into place leaving him to face the woman who couldn’t be bothered with him as a boy. Cold. Calculating. Countess of Clifton. Dowager Countess now.

  She rose to her feet and moved to the door where she paused. “A room has been prepared. I am glad you came, Colin.” She vanished.

  Her final sentence had been so hushed for a second there he wondered if he had not misheard. Colin cast a glance about the room. The bright colors that prevailed seemed out of place for the solemnity of the current situation.

  By the window he peered out at the evening landscape. Even with the snow he couldn’t stop the lip curl at the thick black smoke in the distance. He missed home.

  Leaving the room, he found the cold disapproving glare of the butler on him. Time to deal with this.

  He stepped flush to the man, relishing in how the grayed head had to tip back to maintain eye contact. “Are we going to have a problem, Bolton?”

  The man sniffed. “What problem would that be, my lord?”

  “The fact you do not like me here and continue to stare at me like I am something from the bottom of your shoe.”

  A faint flush tinged those pale cheeks.

  “Well?” Colin demanded. “Because if we do it gets resolved now. Before the ceremonies.”

  “No problem.”

  “Good. Keep it that way or relinquish your position.”

  Defiance sprang into Bolton’s gaze. “I am your mother’s butler.”

  One brow arched. “I know. But now that I am the earl and am taking over all things, monetary included, I am the one who pays you. Or does not.” The warning fell clear. “The choice is completely up to you, Bolton. Just do not be foolish enough to assume I will tolerate shite from you because my old man treated me like it.” He strode to the stairs. “Send a bath to my room,” he ordered without looking back.

  As he climbed, Colin took note of the condition of the household items. Upstairs wasn’t as nice as down. By all appearances, the old man had had money issues. He stopped a maid and got the room he had been given, ignoring the blatant offer in her eyes. It was warm, a fire burned in the hearth yet the rugs were worn thin in places.

  He glanced up in surprise when the door opened and he heard Berry’s voice. Lines of strain were around his face as he directed the placing of Colin’s luggage.

  “Trip okay, Berry?” he asked once they were alone.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Biting back his instinctive response to that phrase he nodded. “Nothing else to be done tonight. Get some rest.”

  “Aye commander.” Berry left as the tub and water came up.

  Commander? He’d not been that in a very long time. Something must have been on Berry’s mind for that slip to occur. Another fact he filed away to deal with later.

  He was exhausted. The past few days had been wearing to be sure. The trip, the news, the ride here and the time with Najja. He needed a bed.

  Which he got to with rapid succession. Najja was the last thing he thought about and the first when Berry woke him the following morning.

  The next couple of days kept him even busier causing him to fall into bed exhausted every night. Finally the day of the funerals arrived. Snow fell, dusting his black coat as he stood ramrod straight beside his mother.

  Back at the house, he remained near his mother, accepting the condolences and ignoring the whispers his presence created. He had just buried two brothers and a father and yet some people still watched him, almost unsure of what he would do next.

  “Lord Clifton,” a soft voice said from beside him.

  He pleasantly found Lady Adrys there. “Lady Adrys. Thank you for coming.”

  She took his hand and squeezed. “If I can be of any help.”

  “Thank you.” He peered about the room, getting snatches of muted conversations before meeting her gaze again. He had no practice or patience for these kinds of things. Disappointment filled him when he didn’t see either Najja or Jo. Lord Adrys was across the room speaking with the Duke of Kelley.

  “Jo sends her regards.”

  What about Najja? “Thank you. Please excuse me, I should check on my mother.”

  “Of course.” One final squeeze and she released his hand, heading off to seek her husband’s side.

  He melted through the gathering to his mother, running his hands down his black waistcoat. As she rose, Bolton announced the meal was ready. Henrietta took his hand briefly before sliding hers to the crook of his arm. He escorted her to the table and waited until she’d been seated along with the other women before taking his own seat, at the head of the table.

  As the clanking of silver combined with the din of conversation, he tried to pay attention. However, his mind streamed through the information he’d uncovered since arriving in London. And that was continued once the house was again silent and her occupants abed with the single expectation of him.

  He went to the study and sat at the large teak desk his father had used, recalling how he’d felt standing before it as a frightened boy then a defiant young man. Colin stared at the number of bank notes that had been piling up. Creditors had pounced like vultures when they learned he had come to town.

  The amount of debt had staggered him. How had his father let this happen? Not to mention his brothers. He had meetings with the two mistresses tomorrow where he would inform them their lines of credit were subsequently cut off. Even his mother spent like everything was fine.

  He ran a hand over his mouth and sighed. This was a huge mess and would take a bit to get out of. Shoving back from the pile of unpaid bills, he stalked to the fire then to the window. The moonlight shone down across the backyard, shimmered upon the hard crust and made him, for once, admire the beauty of his surroundings.

  As before his night was filled with dreams of him and Najja. When he woke he hungered for her even more. He missed his country life, the estate work. The estate itself. Correction, his previous estate for he had another now. And he missed his Najja.

  His.

  Chapter Nine

  Najja wiped the blood from her sais and returned them to her boots. Her heart pounded and she stared at the scene before her. She ached. Ignoring her own injuries, she moved with deliberate steps to the man who had yet to perish. He had a stomach wound, which he futilely tried to stop the bleeding on.

  Anger churned in her gut. This had been close. Too close. Whomever was after Lord Adrys and his family had decidedly upped their game. More disguised accidents toward Jo had
really begun to infuriate her. They’d stepped up the ones on Jo’s parents as well. She was exhausted. It was hard keeping all three of them safe.

  Surveying the man who tried to pull himself from her, she willed herself calm. He had small eyes, weasel-like. His mouth, which had held a sneer at the beginning, showed panic and true fear. She blinked away the blood that dripped into her eye.

  “Who?” she demanded standing over him.

  “He will kill me.”

  “You are already dead,” she stated dispassionately. “The question is will you suffer out here, unsure if you will succumb first to blood loss, the cold or an animal. Or,” she paused, “do you get a merciful death?”

  “I have a family,” he sputtered, skin paling even more.

  She felt no sympathy. “So did the one you tried to kill.”

  The blood began to congeal in the cold and the man shivered even more. She saw the look on his face and crouched down.

  “Who?”

  “Sod off,” he spit with a bit of spirit.

  Her own vision flickered and she stood. A final dismissive perusal of his form and she presented him with her back. Once on Fineas she directed him back to Kittle Manor and rode off without a look back at the trio of men who lay dead or dying.

  Najja was weak upon their return. She had her hood up and kept her head down doing her best to hide her injuries. Her wounded arm hidden beneath the cloak. She turned the reins over to a waiting stable lad and began the walk up to the house.

  Lord Adrys met her before she reached the warmth of Kittle Manor. He appeared harried and concerned. “Najja!” He hurried to her side and glanced at her face. “Oh no,” he said before sweeping her up into his arms. She opened her mouth to argue and the darkness took over.

  Lids heavy, she dragged them open and saw green silk swags that hung from the thick posts of the large four-poster bed. Slow and cautious, she rotated her head and found Jo sound asleep beside her, the expression on her face explained why they shared a bed. Jo was worried.

  With a deep breath she sat up. The room shifted a bit and she waited it out. Once everything calmed to rights, she swung her legs over, grateful to find she wore clothes.