by Aliyah Burke
Table of Contents
WHAT THE EARL DESIRES
copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Author
WHAT THE EARL DESIRES
Aliyah Burke
PASSION IN PRINT PRESS
www.passioninprint.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2011 by Aliyah Burke
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Published by
Passion In Print Press
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Albion, NY 14411
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Cover Art Copyright MMJ Designs.
Editing by Lawan Williams
Print ISBN# 978-1-60820-370-3
ebook format ISBN#978-1-60820-371-0
Issued 2011
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.
Dedication
Thanks to all the readers who’ve been patiently waiting for my next historical. I hope you enjoy Colin and Najja. To my friends who never let me give up on this story even when Colin kept me up late at night ready to tear out my hair. Thank you to my hubby who has again been nothing but supportive. And last but never least to those who are defending our country at the risk of their own life, thank you and to your families for your sacrifices!
Chapter One
1811 Western Africa
“I do not care, Josephine Adrys!” The shrill voice pierced the air with alarming precision. “We will be returning to Society soon and you cannot continue to carry on like this…such boorish behavior will not get you a husband. Get down from that tree this instant.”
High up in the thick mangrove two young women lounged on a gnarled branch. It was hot and humid; everything around them dripped with moisture. To some, it may appear dangerous, okay, to most it would. But these two relaxed quite comfortably up there, as if they belonged. The bright African sun struggled to penetrate the foliage of the rainforest and scattered bits of light across the young women. Screeching monkeys flew overhead on the vines which drooped. They hung, roots up and fronds down toward the floor of the forest, getting nourishment from somewhere above.
The females were different as night and day. The mulish and defiant spitfire, Josephine “Jo” Adrys, had a peaches and cream complexion, tanned by the sun and her many days outside. Numerous freckles lay scattered along the bridge of her nose, spanning to below her large, luminous blue eyes. Blue like the sky at the height of day when it is at its most brilliant. Her hair a combination of browns, reds, and copper shone in the light.
Najja was a few years older than her and she was dark where Jo was light. Her skin the color of coffee with a splash of cream. Hair fell straight in waves of black silk. She had dark brown eyes that always seemed aware of everything around her. Her build was more muscular than Jo’s slighter one.
They were even dressed differently. Jo wore a light green dress of sprigged muslin to help combat the oppressive heat while Najja wore breeches and a sleeveless shirt, better for her job of keeping the young woman safe. It didn’t matter what one wore in this heat, everything sweated.
“I love it here!” Jo wailed. “The only reason to return is Mother is ready to pawn me off on some man.”
Najja almost smiled at the theatrical statement but the torment in Jo’s voice kept it contained. “You English sure are strange with your habits.”
Jo scowled. “I will thank you not to remind me. I could not possibly survive being married to some ancient, crotchety old man who wants to breed me.” She shuddered in disgust while her mother, Lady Adrys hollered up again.
One eyebrow rose. “Breed you? Your mother would faint if she heard you talk in such a way.”
An impish twinkle replaced the sadness and frustration there moments before. “Do you think so?”
The question was so hopeful she couldn’t help but laugh. “I have no doubt.” Lady Honoria Adrys was prone to theatrics. Ones which probably suited a drawing room in England far better than an African rainforest.
“Josephine Marguerite Adrys!”
They both winced at that.
“You should go,” Najja said.
“What about you?”
“I will ensure you both arrive safely then I must return to camp.”
Jo stood and hugged her. With a smile she returned the affection. Jo was a true friend. “See you later,” Jo whispered before scampering down the tree.
Jo’s mother’s horrified gasp made her chuckle. Najja was grateful she remained above ground and out of sight well aware how Lady Adrys would react to her attire. While Jo, her mother, and the servants who’d accompanied her maneuvered along the path, Najja kept her upward position.
As mother and daughter headed to the large home they had built for themselves, she remained on the outskirts until they vanished inside. She shook her head, the need for such opulence continued to be a mystery to her. Not that she didn’t appreciate sleeping there, but Lady Adrys seemed intent on bringing as much English society to the rainforest as she could.
Her beloved rainforest. Dangerous. Alluring. Unlike any place on earth. She’d traveled much in her life, to India, The Orient, and beyond. Sometimes with the men her father sent and sometimes alone.
She shook herself from her thoughts and hurried back to her Father’s camp. Never her home, no, the rainforest was her home. Father’s camp was just that. His. It bordered the rainforest and she opted to spend most of her time there, unless she was riding her horse.
All joviality she’d felt spending time with Jo had been wiped clear, her expression composed. With her friend she could enjoy being a person, her own and not the one Father had created her to be. Two very different sides to the same coin. She strode through the encampment headed straight for the largest tent and slipped inside. Three steps into the open area and she paused in wait. Head down, hands clasped loosely before her, she closed her eyes and breathed deep.
“You are late.” The voice was deep and graveled, full of the power he held.
“Apologies Father. Miss Jo had no desire to go home since they are to return to England soon.”
“I know.” He spoke their language, not English.
She knew he knew. He knew everything. There was no reason to argue so she stayed quiet and waited for him to continue.
“Look at me, Najja,” he said, his tone a bit odd.
She lifted her head and stared
at her sire. He somehow seemed weaker. Not a lot but there were lines around his black eyes she didn’t recall seeing before. His dark skin stretched tight over taut muscles, riddled with scars. He cast his gaze about as if ensuring their privacy. She knew they were alone but his checking yet another testament to his advancing age.
“Come closer.”
She did as he bade, chin up and eyes focused on his. Instinctively she waited for an attack, all the while maintaining her composed façade. It was a struggle, knowing an assault could happen any moment and she was forbidden to retaliate in any way.
He licked his lips and ran a hand over his bald head. “You know of the attempts on the family?”
“Yes.”
“Lord Adrys wants protection for his daughter.”
A sinking feeling began to rise within her. Jo’s father was Viscount Adrys. “I see. Back in England, I suppose.”
“You will go with them.”
Of course. For the first time in a long time panic filled her chest and threatened to consume her. Swallowing back the bile, she dipped her head in silent acceptance of his order.
“No questions?”
Bitterness hung on the cusp of her tongue, warning to spill over. “No questions. I know what is required of me.”
Something which looked akin to painful regret flashed across his face. Before she could think about it, like a bolt of lightning, it vanished.
“I will take you there tomorrow. You will remain with them until the time to depart.”
Another tip of her head and she spun around leaving without a word. Across the camp she could feel gazes upon her. She altered her gaze neither left nor right, just stared straight ahead. She had a single area set up at the edge of camp and released a sigh as the cloth fell in place blocking out any and all potential stares. There wasn’t much for her to pack and it was soon finished. A single roll which contained everything she carried, her weapons safely inside it and a change of attire. The early evening settled around as she scampered along the thick branches of the trees with the ease of a leopard.
She put herself through her workout ensuring she remained sharp and quick. Exhausted she sat down along a river and waited. Night came, the area changed, and she made her way back with the undercurrent of danger pacing her every step of the way.
Sleep evaded her, making work to grab it. Regardless, she was ready the following morning when Father came to retrieve her. He stared at her then turned and walked off. She followed, her items in hand. They didn’t speak as they headed toward the Adrys’, even though his presence was a shock. Normally she travelled with a few of his warriors to the ship if she were going alone.
A sliver of warning skated up her spine. Without a word, she allowed the forest to swallow her up where she swiftly made her way to the branches she usually used to traverse back and forth. Then she began to run along the branches to get there quicker. She didn’t look down to see if Father was keeping up. All her attention focused on what had caused the unease.
The closer she got the stronger her unease. Upon the air there lingered the acrid stench of smoke. Then came the screams. She ran harder.
The house was aflame. Servants ran about in mass confusion. Immediately she saw Jo wasn’t in the group and she ran for the house. Najja broke through the window and choked almost immediately on the thick smoke. Calling upon her memory of the room’s layout, she made her way to the bed and felt for her friend. There. Dragging her unceremoniously back to the window she started lifting her out. A servant stood there and pulled Jo to safety.
Without a second’s hesitation, she took a deep breath and went back in to ensure the entire household had gotten out. The smoke and flames increased exponentially with the dry wood of the house and the morning breeze. A few hours later, she stood with Father and Lord Adrys by the smoldering and charred remains of the house. They left in silence and trekked down to the port. She could smell the smoke on her clothes but ignored it.
Jo and her mother waited surrounded by servants. Viscount Hayworth Adrys, was a man who still turned heads. His hair, mostly brown, was streaked with silver. His body in good shape, tanned from being outside so much. But where his expression was mostly composed, she could see the remaining fear from the fire. Her gaze moved from him to the waiting ship where Lady Adrys and Jo had just boarded and were probably headed to their rooms. Staring at the tallest mast, she fought a grin when she saw the crow’s nest and her own personal distress calmed. She also knew her own horse had been loaded.
“It is time.” Father spoke the obvious.
They were departing early. The ship had been readied only waiting for Adrys to finish. However, with the fire he’d abandoned his studies and agreed to leave earlier.
She nodded and walked after Lord Adrys. There was no hug, no tearful farewell. But she didn’t expect one. She had a purpose and it wasn’t to be an affectionate daughter. They cast off and she stood by the rail as the ship slowly picked up speed. She gazed back to watch as her beloved rainforest grew smaller and smaller, but Najja never looked back for Father.
Jo approached her, face alight with tears of joy. “I am so glad you are coming with us,” she said wrapping her up in a huge hug.
Najja smiled in return before stepping away.
“With you with me, England shall be most exciting. Imagine the fun we shall have.”
“I believe you will be getting ready for your Season.”
A scowl crossed Jo’s face. “I do not care to be matched up with a stuffy member of peerage.”
“Perhaps it will not be that way.”
She didn’t believe what she’d said and from Jo’s expression, neither did she.
“Excuse me, Jo, I need a word with Najja. In private,” Lord Adrys interrupted.
Jo harrumphed but left. She doted on her father and the feeling was mutual. He spoiled her rotten. As she watched the daughter of Viscount Adrys leave and head to her waiting mother, she wondered how it would have been to have such an interaction with her own.
No point in dwelling on that.
“Yes, my lord?” she asked, facing him only to catch another glimpse of her fading homeland.
He gave her a charming smile. “No need to be so formal. You are practically my daughter as well.” The words touched her in ways he couldn’t possibly fathom. “I know this was not easy for you. To give everything up and come with us.” She remained silent throughout his proclamation, not willing to tell him she had no say in the matter, it had been purely Father’s decision. He cleared his throat and continued, “I am not sure what you were told.” He waited and she took his silence as her time to speak.
“He told me to protect Miss Josephine until the trouble has been ascertained and dealt with.”
“I will keep you updated on information as I learn it.”
“Very well.”
He seemed a bit uncertain but she merely waited for him to figure out what he longed to say and how to voice it. Past him she watched her homeland vanish, swallowed up by the ocean. Her heart hurt and she didn’t understand. She’d been away numerous times before with training, lessons, and…. She shook her head, stopping the thoughts. Regardless, this time felt different. Almost like her heart believed she would not be returning to Africa’s beautiful shores.
“I do not want Jo to know; or Honoria for that matter,” Adrys said.
“I will not say a word on it. I will tell Jo I am…her companion?”
He nodded. “Perfect.” The strain on his face faded awarding her a glimpse of the handsome man he was. “Thank you, Najja. You kept my daughter safe all the years we lived here and your father tells me there is no one else he would trust to keep my daughter safe than you. I hope your stay with us in England will not be horrible.”
Words escaped her for a moment. She was more than a bit unsure on how to handle that bit of news. Pride from Father? Unheard of.
Regaining her wits quickly, she said, “Do not worry about me, my lord. You have enough to focus on.”
“Let me show you to your room. And stop with the ‘my lord’ bit.” He paused. “At least when it is family around. If you are to be her companion I suppose in public it would be best,” he said a bit distractedly.
She dipped her head in acknowledgement. With a final peek to the crow’s nest she followed him to find her room, small but clean.
“I will come get you for dinner.”
His announcement startled her. She had assumed to dine alone. “As you require,” she replied.
He gave her a kind smile and slipped away. With a sigh, she sat in the hammock and pushed it slightly. Barely a minute later, a knock came to the door before it opened, admitting Jo. Without asking she hurried and joined her in the hammock.
“Does your mother know you are here?”
Jo huffed. “She instructed me to nap. I guess I am supposed to be tired. I have no clue why, it is not like the rowing of the ship falls on my shoulders.”
Najja chuckled and stared at the ceiling as they swayed back and forth with the rhythm of the ship. She would make her way above deck come nightfall and look around. One thing is certain, she thought listening to Jo continue to prattle on, it would not be a dull trip.
October 1811, England
“I am sorry…care to repeat that?” Colin Faulkner swallowed the rest of his whisky and glared at the man who stood before him quaking in his boots.
“I…I…so sorry, Mr. Faulkner. It…it was hijacked and the two with it were killed. Sliced up.”
He released a round of curses which caused the man before him to blanch even more. Mr. Pickner worked for him and had for years. To look at him one would be hard pressed to tell. His gnarled hands clutched the worn wool cap at waist level and abundant fear overflowed in his eyes.
