With a dry throat and gritty eyes, she edged her legs closer to the floor. The chilly air caused her to shiver. Feet on the carpet she pushed away from the bed and headed for the chair which had her sais on it.
“Where do you think you are going?” Jo’s question stopped her. “Get back in bed, Najja,” Jo ordered.
She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them to see Jo directly in front of her. Blue eyes emblazoned with a mixture of concern and anger.
“Bed.” The command fell like ice.
Najja wanted to argue but the room began to spin again. Casting a final glance past Jo’s shoulder to where her weapons lay, she returned to the bed. Jo propped up some pillows behind her then without a word went and retrieved the sais, placing them at her side. She breathed a bit easier when her fingers travelled over the familiar leathered hilts.
“Why did you keep it from me?” Jo demanded, her voice tinged with hurt.
There was no point in lying, Jo knew now. Readjusting her body against the pillows, Najja sighed. “Lord Adrys asked me not to tell. He had no wish to worry either of you.”
Eyes glittered with indignation as she snapped, “I thought we were friends.”
“We are, Jo,” she replied with kindness. “But your father employed me.” She closed her eyes briefly. “If Father had not agreed for me to come this way, would you still be saying such things?”
“No,” Jo admitted. “I just thought…” she trailed off.
Najja didn’t respond. There was no need. She knew what Jo meant but it would be best if the young woman never forgot who--or what--she truly was.
“I will go get a tray for you.” Jo sounded defeated as she made her way to the door. She disappeared before Najja could conjure up a response.
Alone in the room, Najja gripped one sai and blinked away furious tears. Crying was not her forte. It wasn’t for the pain and suffering she’d experienced, it was for the pain caused by hurting Jo. A friend. Her one true one.
With angry flicks at her eyes, she erased any evidence of tears. Calling upon the fortitude, which had gotten her through twenty-six years of her life, she calmed herself. She turned her head and stared out the window. More snow fell and she got swamped with the craving--need--to get to a place she called home. To relax on a thick branch while the heat of the day sank into her. Where there weren’t black skies from burning coal as she would encounter in London. Where the danger was from certain wildlife, not other humans.
A sharp knock preceded the entire trio of Adryses. Hayworth entered first followed by his wife and daughter. Jo with a tray in her hand that she carried to the bed and set beside her. Lady Adrys wrung her hands and her face displayed her vexation. No flicker of emotion allowed, Najja met the sharp blue eyes of Lord Adrys.
The women joined her on the bed but she refused to drop the gaze that saw so much. For a brief spot in time the eyes were businesslike, not unlike Father’s. Until they softened.
“How are you feeling?” Hayworth questioned, drawing a large chair close and seating himself in it.
“Fine, my lord. Thank you.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Najja,” Lady Adrys said, “you just saved my husband’s life and risked your own. And I am not wrong in assuming it was not the first time either. You are family, stop being so bloody formal.”
The words snapped her gaze from husband to wife. One, Lady Adrys said “bloody” and two, she’d never heard such ferocity from her before.
Blonde hair normally drawn back in an elegant coif had been loosely gathered at the base of her neck. Lady Adrys also had circles under her eyes. The viscountess crossed her arms and shot glares between her and Hayworth.
How long have I been asleep?
“No more secrets, Hayworth. Tell us what is going on. All of it.”
Najja had never known Lady Adrys to have such grit. As Hayworth adhered to his wife’s decree, Najja closed her eyes and allowed his deep voice to flow over her. A slender hand took the place of the sai handle. She knew it was Jo. The girl was extremely tactile. Regardless, the contact comforted her.
The conversation went on around her and while she wasn’t required to talk it was nice to be included. Sleep raced upon her and she finally succumbed as Lady Adrys continued to tell her husband just how upset she was for his high handed way of handling things.
She woke later to find Jo asleep beside her and Lady Adrys seated in the chair Lord Adrys had occupied previously. Her hair hung over her right shoulder in a thick braid. The room lit by firelight and candles felt comfortable.
Blue eyes stared unblinkingly at her. With another look at Jo, Najja faced the woman in the chair. The Viscountess, Lady Honoria Adrys.
“Are you hungry?” she asked with soft articulation. “Or thirsty? You fell back asleep before eating before.”
“No my lady, thank you though.”
“Najja,” she shifted on the seat, moving toward the edge. “What you did…what you sacrificed.”
Najja began to feel uncomfortable. “I did my job,” she insisted wanting there to be no gratitude. Those traitorous tears began threatening again.
Honoria compressed her lips into a thin line. “I know we are not that close but even I can see how important you are to our family. I have known you for years, Najja, and never once in all that time, have I ever expressed my gratitude for keeping my daughter safe. I am ashamed of that.”
Najja began to shake her head only to stop when Lady Adrys pinned a look on her that she knew to mean hush and listen. Adjoined to her uninjured side lay a still Jo. So Najja listened. Not that Lady A would have it any other way, she observed.
“You are a part of our family, Najja. Our second daughter. No matter what you say that is how it is. So thank you, for not letting them take my family from me,” a pointed glare at her, “any of them.” She got up and approached the bed. “Do not ever scare me like this again, or I will…well, not sure what but it will be something.”
Najja sat there speechless as Honoria Adrys pressed a kiss to her cheek and left the room.
“Told you Mama loved you,” Jo murmured her voice laced with sleepy humor.
“Go to sleep, brat,” she said with tired affection.
A hand squeeze was Jo’s only response. Najja fell back asleep soon after.
The sun had risen when she opened her eyes next. Jo still slept and she left the bed as quietly as possible. Dressed, she slipped from the room and asked a maid where Lord Adrys could be found. Each step she took she felt her confidence return. At the study door, she knocked.
“Enter.”
She did and closed the heavy door behind her.
“Najja.” He got up from his chair and approached her. “Should you be up and about?”
“I am of no use lying abed.”
His eyes hardened briefly before he led her to a large chair by the roaring fire. He settled into the seat next to her.
“Are you okay to travel?”
“Of course. I hope I have not been the cause of a delay.” His glare told her what he thought of her comment. “I shall go pack.”
“Wait,” Hayworth said.
She sank back against the smooth upholstery and waited. Hayworth Adrys mimicked her action, hooked an ankle over a knee and began talking.
“We are heading for London today. I know this entire situation is not easy for you, Najja. And I know you want to return home.”
Home. Africa. No Jo. No Colin. Suddenly returning didn’t quite hold the same draw anymore.
Colin is far from my reach. I should forget him. Despite the pep talk she knew it to be an impossible task. There was a part of her that one man had reached and would be closed off to anyone else. It belonged to Colin and him alone.
“Since he is now the Earl of Clifton.”
Her attention returned to Adrys with a snap. “Wait, Mister Faulkner is now the Earl of Clifton?” How had she missed that?
“He got the news the night before we left his place and came here. The missus and I
went to pay our condolences when we went to London.”
An earl. Definitely out of her league. The pieces fell into place as to their night in his study. Why he’d been drinking, he had gotten the news of the deaths that led to him acquiring the title.
“That is right,” she muttered. “I must have forgotten.”
Adrys lifted a brow at that but he let it go. She knew she had to be more careful. It wasn’t like her to forget things but lately when Colin’s name got mentioned all she could see were the memories of her experience in his arms.
“Once we get to London…”
She listened with half an ear to what he had planned. But in truth she had focused on the fact she would be close to Colin again.
“You cannot be serious!” Angelique Shover whined, her blue eyes snapping with indignation.
Colin leaned forward in the chair and arched a brow. “I am,” he assured the irate woman.
Angelique had been Griffith’s, his eldest brother, mistress. She had arrived this morning full of false sympathy and unwanted platitudes. An attitude that had definitely changed to anger.
“I have a certain way of life.”
“Yes and as of this moment it has nothing to do with me or my family.”
He noticed the instant she switched from anger to seduction. She pushed up from the chair, her white ermine slithered to the floor, leaving her in a tight, low-cut day dress. Attire that left a direct view of her ample bosom.
“Perhaps we could come to our own agreement,” she said, her voice a throaty purr.
He didn’t even attempt to hide his condemnation. “Our arrangement is we have none and I am no longer paying for my brother’s whore to live off my money.”
Her creamy complexion became mottled, eyes flashed with rage. “The rumors of you were true, you truly are a cold bastard.”
“Bolton will see you out,” he remarked without emotion, flicking his hand in a dismissive gesture.
When the door closed he groaned before massaging his temples. The entire thing was a mess.
“Colin.”
He looked up to see his mother there, clad in bombazine, a black lace kerchief in one gloved hand. In a smooth motion he got to his feet.
“Mother.”
She approached the desk and perched on the edge of a chair. He sat back down. “You should not be entertaining guests so soon. We just buried your father and brothers.”
Biting back his irritation, he strove for a calm response. He replaced the quill and laced his fingers together.
“I am not entertaining, Mother. I am trying to pay off all this debt that Father, Griffith and Michael accrued. And yours. You have not a sixpence to scratch with, Mother. Neither did Griffith or Michael. And yet they each kept a mistress as well as running on tick to keep up the appearance of being a wealthy earl’s son.”
Her eyes widened then narrowed in disbelief. “No.”
“Yes,” he replied immediately. “Bottom line, you have no money. You are rolled up.”
She gasped like a fish but he had no sympathy. “I am trying to fix it all so if I do improper things, too bad.” He waved at the notes before him. “All of these are asking for their money. This is a small pile.”
“He never said a word, just that he did not want to upkeep the house for it would keep me from entertaining.”
That didn’t surprise him and he kept his comment to himself. But the weathered exhaustion on her face changed his mind.
“You need to think about where you want to reside. If you wish to remain here, fine, if not tell me where.”
She wadded up the lace and cocked her head. “After everything…why?”
A question he’d asked himself numerous times as he’d stared in silent horror at the surmounting issues he’d just inadvertently inherited. So, Colin, a man who’d never received true affection from his family, replied with candor.
“Because you are my mother.” He left it at that, opting to keep his emotional change private. Najja wasn’t something he was ready to share yet.
His mother stood and he picked up the pen. “I have a few more things to attend today but then I would like to talk to you about Cousin Chambers.”
Her thin brows converged briefly before her head bobbed in agreement. “Of course.” She retreated as silently as she’d entered.
The expression on her face betokened no fear just genuine curiosity as to his reasoning. Bolton knocked and at his command stepped inside with Michael’s mistress in accompaniment. Smothering a groan he waved the raven-haired woman to a chair as Bolton retired. A deep breath and he began.
At the end of the day he escaped back to the study and poured himself a drink. The house was filled with family who’d arrived for the funeral and had yet to depart. After his talk with his mother about Cousin Stephan Chambers he’d needed to be away from everyone. His head pounded like he stood near the firing cannons onboard his ship.
Drink in hand yet still untouched he migrated to the window. Outside another storm blew. Snowflakes gathered on the panes showcasing the fury of Mother Nature. It reminded him of the storm he and Najja ventured through.
Najja.
He wanted to see her. Somehow he knew she would understand his feelings. How was it possible to miss someone so much? A person whom by all rights shouldn’t even turn his head. But Najja had. More than that, she had taught him to care about someone. Taught him to let someone in.
And since Francesca that had ceased even being a slight option.
He sighed and drained his drink in one swallow. Najja. How great would it be to curl up next to her feminine body on these cold nights? His body reacted to the mere possibility and he turned from the window and moved to the fireplace, walking across the rug. A new one he’d purchased along with the other household items he’d had brought in.
The old and worn items had been replaced and the house looked as it should have. Tomorrow he was moving to his new home. Or what would be the new Earl of Clifton’s London residence, on Park Lane in Mayfair.
His mother had expressed her desire to remain here so he would pay for that as well as provide her with a generous stipend considering the jointure she should have had been awarded at her husband’s death had long since disappeared.
Berry had been hiring a staff for the Clifton place, one less thing for him to worry about. And despite it being winter and him just having buried family, there were invitations to parties.
He plunked down the empty glass and trod to the door. Most had retired for the night and he was of the mind to do so as well. His dreams were restless and when he woke in the morning he again found himself struck by how great his desire to return to the country.
By mid afternoon he sat at his brand new highly polished desk, made from cherry in his new home. A small curl of his lips the only indication his thoughts had taken a side road to the business at hand. He imagined laying Najja back and coming home between her thighs.
Thrusting hard.
Stroking deep.
His shaft pressed tight inside his trousers. Shaking his head, he focused back on Berry and what he currently spoke about.
A knock interrupted them.
“Enter.”
Archer, his new butler for the townhouse opened the door. Archer happened to be Abel’s son.
“My lord, a man is here to see you.” He stepped forward and held out the salver.
Upon the small silver tray sat not a visiting card but a note. Opening it he read the short message and flashed his eyes back to Archer. “Bring him in.”
“Very good, my lord.” He headed noiselessly to the door.
“Archer?”
“My lord?” The man faced him, already with the poise his father had.
“This man is always allowed in, even if I am not here. He is to be treated as family.”
No expression just a crisp nod. “Very good, my lord.” Then he was gone and moments later, Wilkes entered the room. Wilkes walked straight to the side table and poured himself a d
rink, downed it and poured another.
“Help yourself,” Colin said drolly.
“Thanks,” Wilkes stated without aplomb. “Berry, good to see you.”
“Mr. Wilkes. Good to see you, sir.” Berry glanced at him and stood.
“No, stay, Berry,” Wilkes instructed. “What I need involves you as well.”
Colin was intrigued. Wilkes was his best friend and after his father squandered all their money he’d never once accepted help. Wilkes had money but Colin would bet he had not any clue just how much. Particularly since Colin had gone ahead and invested it for Wilkes.
“What do you need, Wilkes?” he asked as Berry retook his seat.
He strode close to the desk and placed large hands on it. “I need Berry here to clean me up. Like you my friend, the time has come for Trystan Wilkes to return to Society.”
Colin got up and poured himself a drink before leaning against the table and staring at his friend. Ankles hooked, he drank half the amber liquid.
“You look about as excited as I was.”
Wilkes shrugged. “Orders are orders.”
He nodded. Wilkes worked for the Crown. Berry knew all about it and had done some medical work on him a time or two.
“Whatever you need,” he stated with all honesty.
“Excellent. I have a townhouse in Belgrave Square.”
Colin pursed his lips and reclaimed his seat. “Do you like it there?”
“Why?”
“Live on Park Lane.”
Wilkes snorted. “How?”
“You have money, Wilkes. I have been investing what you give me.” He reclined and laced his fingers behind his head. “You make plenty.”
Wilkes sat in a chair beside Berry. “How much?”
Unlocking a drawer, he withdrew a small ledger and tossed it at Trystan. He watched his friend’s expression. Shock, awe, astonishment and amazement.
“Welcome back, Mr. Wilkes.”
Wilkes turned to Berry and rattled what he required and with no hesitation the man got up and left. Colin took no offense for Berry was invaluable like that. While Berry set off to settle that bit to rights, Archer sent for clothes.
For the rest of the day, Colin turned away callers and watched as his friend transformed from a man who fit at home in the rankest tavern to one who should be at White’s or Almack’s.
What the Earl Desires Page 15
