by Aliyah Burke
“Damn it!” He slammed a hand down on the desk, the precise moment thunder rocked the house. Struggling to calm himself he said, “You should get home before this weather gets any worse. We do not want Mrs. Pickner to worry.”
Relief crossed the older man’s face and he gave a slight bow and headed out. Alone in his study, Colin stared at the flames which danced in the fireplace sending flicks of gold throughout the room.
He was livid. This was the third shipment of his to have been stolen right out from under him. He poured another shot of whisky and took the glass with him to stare out the large window. Somehow, someone was ahead of him every step of the way. And now they had moved up to murder. He had to see to the family and make sure they were provided for. It was his fault the men had been on that trip.
It wasn’t long before the sky ripped open and released its fury in torrents. Rain thrashed the window with savage intent. Lightning slashed the sky with deadly promise. He was glad to be indoors.
Slowly he sipped the drink and mulled over what to do with this increasing problem. He was the third son who had since he’d acquired these estates built up more money than his estranged father, the Earl of Clifton. More than most members of peerage actually.
He’d purchased a commission for the Royal Navy as soon as he’d been old enough and when he’d sold it he’d come here and run his estate, which his capable butler had been doing while he served. He didn’t deal much with social differences. He worked hard and spent time around men of the same mind. That was important to him, not how far back one could trace their ‘supposed’ blue blood. Regardless of all the money he had, it was his and he despised being stolen from. So he stood there and watched as the rain came down harder and attempted to devise a way to stop the hijacking.
“Sir! Sir!” A feminine voice called out from behind him.
Turning in confusion of the noise and intrusion, he frowned. It was Molly, a maid. She looked near panicked and he slowly released the heavy drape he held in one hand. “What is it?” he demanded with a scowl.
Her breathing came faster and he watched her flinch from his tone. Lord, what a mouse.
“There be guests, sir. Abel sent me to get ye.”
He frowned and ignored the increased uncertainty in her expression. Who would be out on a night like this? It is crazy out there. The thunder rolled as if to agree with him.
“Well, I cannot very well refuse them in this confounded weather. Make up some rooms,” he ordered, even though visitors were something he’d rather avoid.
Molly dipped a curtsey but didn’t leave.
He raised a brow.
“One of them’s been shot.”
That spurred him into action. He hurried to the door, leaving his drink on the desk as he went. Hastening to the entrance hall, he saw two women huddled together staring at a figure on the floor. Abel, his butler, seemed curiously rattled.
He noticed his housekeeper, Mrs. Hawkins, come up with towels for the women. There was another person bent over the pale man on the floor. He could see blood beginning to pool on his white floors.
“What is this?” He covered the remaining ground.
“Sir,” Abel said, seeming to compose himself. “Lord Adrys and his family were set upon by brigands.”
Viscount Hayworth Adrys. He knew the name. There had been some big talk about his returning after having been gone for about fifteen years. The man had been out of the country, mostly in Africa for those years and oddly enough had taken his family with him. He frowned, recalling only one child, a daughter. Although fifteen years would be more than enough for at least another child. Or a servant.
“Mrs. Hawkins, please see Lady Adrys and her daughter to rooms so they may dry off. We shall see to your husband, Lady Adrys.”
Two sets of blue eyes stared at him. He saw a mixture of fear and tears in them. Weak women didn’t sit well with him. The younger patted her mom’s hand and said, “You go on, Mama. I will stay with Papa.”
“You are soaked to the bone. You need to be dry.” Lady Adrys’ voice was taut with strain.
Ignoring the women, he crouched by the other soaked figure and frowned as a scent of something exotic teased his nose and stirred his loins. He was not attracted to men. “We need to get him to the morning room. See a fire is lit immediately,” he barked out the orders.
“What about Najja?”
He tore his gaze from the pasty pallor of the man to the daughter who paused at the foot of the stairs and issued the query.
“Who?” he asked as he ran the foreign name over in his mind.
“Go tend your mother,” a husky, sultry voice said from right beside him. “I will stay with your father until your return.”
His frown deepened. The voice was in no way belonged to a man. His shock increased when the girl followed her mother up the polished stairs pausing at the top to cast a glance back down. This woman gave orders, which they followed without question. Intriguing.
He touched her shoulder and stared at the gloved hand that held the bloodied cloth unflinchingly to the wound. In a second, he found himself staring into the face of a woman who, to be honest, he’d not been expecting to see. Her face was a stunning shade of brown, and her eyes were dark brown framed by doubly thick lashes. Was she a slave? The thought rankled, having worked some of his final years in the Royal Navy associated with the abolition of the slave trade.
She stared briefly at him before her attention returned to the man lying here. Colin gestured for them to move him; she stepped back and followed them. The moment Lord Adrys had been placed by the fire, she knelt back down.
“We got this,” he said. “You should change into something dry.” Another shudder went through him at the mental image of her naked body. What is wrong with me?
She backed away and he took over, ripping open the shirt. Abel, his butler, and his valet, Berry, joined him. Berry had been a medic in the Navy with him. Well aware of his ability, Colin focused on the woman again and felt that stirring deep within. She stood silent dripping on the floor before the fire. Protectiveness rose in him.
“You need to get dried off.” He issued the order expecting to be obeyed.
She barely looked at him. Her gaze stayed transfixed on Lord Adrys’ face. He wasn’t used to being ignored. Muttering a curse, he focused back on the task at hand, a curse which didn’t go unnoticed by either Berry or Abel for he noticed their shared look.
A while later the younger Adrys hurried in. He regarded her as she hurried to the side of the silent one.
“How is he?” she inquired.
Colin pushed to his feet and faced the women. One dry, peaches-n-cream complexion darkened by exposure to the sun. The other wet, dark-skinned, and aloof. Not to mention intriguing.
“Your father will be alright so long as he does not acquire a fever.” Her fearful expression made him regret his choice of wordage. “The wound will be fine, we will carry him upstairs to bed.” He glanced between them and saw the daughter grip the hand of the one called Najja. His gaze flicked back to Najja only to find her staring at him. Seeking, almost.
Seeking what though?
A low whisper moved between the women, a language he didn’t understand but the brown-haired miss did. Her eyes widened and she stepped forward, dropping into a slight curtsey.
“Forgive my manners. I am Josephine Adrys. We…we are grateful for your hospitality…” she trailed off obviously unaware of who he was.
“Mr. Faulkner, Miss Adrys,” he replied. “I am curious how this…incident came to pass.”
“Of course,” she said, before dismissing him and speaking with incredible ease to the woman beside her.
He glanced at the other woman and again realized she was soaked. What he didn’t need was another sick person.
“I can have a room readied for your servant and she can get dry.”
That head covered by brown hair snapped up and blue eyes blazed with fire and yet chilled him. How he’d ever assumed she
was meek, he had no idea.
“Najja is not a servant, not mine nor anyone’s. She is part of our family. She can room with me if you do not have space for her.”
He’d just been dressed down by an impertinent chit. And all for a woman named Najja. Najja. It had a delightful exotic sound to it. Nawh-jah.
“My apologies.” He stepped back. “I will have more water heated and sent up. She will be placed in the room next to yours.” The women moved by him only to pause at the door. He watched Miss Adrys frown but turn back.
“Thank you, sir. Our horses?”
“In the stable, rubbed down and fed.”
Najja seemed to sigh slightly at that bit of news.
“Thank you.”
They vanished from sight and he groaned. He moved to lean against the mantle. He didn’t need this.
“Will that be all, sir?”
He rolled his eyes and rotated so he could glare at his butler. Lord Adrys had been taken upstairs. “Speak your mind, Abel.”
“I was merely going to check on things. If you did not need me.”
“Go on, Abel.” His butler bowed and vanished. As he left the drawing room, sidestepping a maid who came to clean the mess, he found himself wondering about the timing of this. Stolen shipments and this unexpected arrival.
Highly doubtful Lord Adrys would shoot himself though. Which brought his thoughts back to Najja. With a muted curse, he went to tell Mrs. Hawkins to prepare some food for the travelers who could now be labeled guests. Heading back to the study, he paused briefly to stare up the stairs.
Why do I feel something has just changed in my life?
An hour later, he heard voices on the stairs. Moving nearer to the study door, he eavesdropped.
“Do you think Papa will be alright?” Miss Josephine Adrys asked.
“Your father is a strong man. You need to help your mother through this.”
Najja’s voice toned low, skated along the edge of his skin, alighting with tiny pinpricks of fire.
“Mama. She is probably plotting a way to get me married off already.”
He almost laughed at the contempt in those words. There was, he also noted, a slight accent, similar to Najja’s.
“I think you are safe for the time being, Jo.”
“Maybe I should warn Mr. Faulkner so he is aware of my mother.”
He liked the chit even more.
“I am sure Mr. Faulkner is well aware of matchmaking mothers.”
“Damn it, Najja, I hate this bloody country. When can we go home?”
He crossed his arms and fought the encroaching laughter. Most well-bred women he was acquainted with wouldn’t know those words much less have the guts to speak them. He should be offended or shocked but he was neither. What he was was amused and even more intrigued about these females.
“Jo! You cannot speak like that.”
“You taught me,” Jo retorted.
“Kindly keep that to yourself. You must think before you speak as to not--”
“I know; would not want to give mama an excuse to swoon.”
“No. Think of your father, Jo. Your behavior also reflects upon him.”
Colin easily picked up on the reprimand.
“You are right, like always,” Jo said.
He could see them now and he almost started when his gaze was met by piercing brown eyes. Instead, he held her stare until she looked away. Yet he was the one who felt dismissed.
“You are staying, right, Najja?”
There existed a thread of vulnerability and uncertainty in Jo’s voice. He held his breath waiting for the response. For some reason he wanted it to be in the affirmative.
“I will be near until you are settled.”
Colin pushed away and made his way to where they continued to talk. Lady Adrys descended the stairs and joined them. He noticed how Jo seemed all the more withdrawn.
“Ladies,” he said with a bow. “There is some food if you would care to join me.”
“That would be lovely,” Lady Adrys said, with a smile one which was slightly strained.
The gleam in her eyes alerted him to what the young women had been discussing about matchmaking mamas. He should be fine for not being titled though. Shouldn’t he? He did have more wealth than a lot of titled men so perhaps he wasn’t as safe as he’d like to believe.
Over the course of the meal, Lady Adrys filled him in on the man who’d shot at the carriage. He was wondering about what to do when Jo spoke.
“It would have been worse if Najja had not moved so fast.”
That caught his attention. He peered over his glass at Najja while Jo was reprimanded by her mother.
“I will just never talk again then,” Jo snapped.
While he knew Lady Adrys had some reply to her daughter, he never took his attention from Najja. She wore a simple blue gown, no adornments or frills. She ate with quiet grace and despite her being flawlessly polite, he could tell she wanted to be anywhere but here.
What a mystery you are, Najja. Her skin called to him, he wanted to touch and see if it was as soft as he believed. He shifted on the seat as his pants grew tight. He could scent the erotic potpourri he’d gotten when kneeling beside her and it drove him crazy. Spiced roses and vanilla.
Hell, if she smelled this good, imagine how perfect she would taste.
He pushed back and rose with a jerk. Three sets of eyes landed on him.
“Excuse me,” he forced out. “Please make yourselves at home.” Then he escaped to his study and slammed a glass of whisky before sitting at his desk.
Someone scratched at the door, startling him from where he stared at nothing. He realized he’d been brooding.
“Enter,” he barked.
Berry walked in and limped to a leather chair before sitting. The man had been a damn good medic but with his injury in the Navy could no longer serve, so he came with when Colin left. And had fallen into the role of valet.
“Why are you not abed?” he asked his valet.
Berry lifted one blond brow.
“Do not give me that crap of staying up to help me. I have managed miraculously to dress and undress myself.”
“I did not want to leave you defenseless.”
He cocked a brow. “Defenseless?”
“Three women.”
Casting a scowl at his friend and valet, he opted not to answer. Two are safe. Naught but one catches my attention. “Go on, Berry. Rest your leg. I am confident between myself and Abel we can handle three women.”
“Very good, sir. I trust you will not scare them with your scowling.”
“Get out of here,” he snapped playfully.
Berry flashed a grin and limped to the door, leaving without a word. Colin remained there for a while longer before leaving. Abel waited for him.
“Everything okay, Abel?”
“Yes, sir. The women have retired. Lord Adrys is resting quietly for now.”
“Very good. Thank you, Abel. Good night.” His staff had done wonders. Four rooms readied. One for a sick man and three for women who had been attacked. He should send for the constable but on a night like this…the man was probably already in his cups. Deep in them.
“Good night, sir.” The man disappeared without a sound.
With a groan, Colin made his way up the stairs to his room, pleased to find a fire burning and warding off the chill from the rainy night. Despite the comfort and warmth he found in his room it was barely ten minutes before he headed back downstairs and spent the night in his study. The rain still continued come morning when he cleaned, shaved, and went to grab some breakfast. Lady Adrys was there. Alone.
He was a bit shocked to see her up so early.
“Good morning, my lady,” he said sketching a bow.
“Mr. Faulkner. I must thank you again for handling our abrupt arrival on your doorstep last night.”
“How is Lord Adrys this morning?”
She frowned slightly. “He has caught a fever. We will be on our way
and out--”
“Nonsense,” he interrupted. “I will send for the doctor. Your husband and his health are more important. He is safe and dry where he is, no point in moving him.” He sat down at the other end of the table. “I trust everything else is acceptable.”
“Oh, yes.” She wrung her napkin. He knew that move, his mother had done it many, many times. “Mr. Faulkner, I feel there is something I should tell you.”
He lifted a brow. “Everything okay? Something wrong with Miss Adrys or Miss…” he paused realizing he didn’t know Najja’s last name.
“Oh no, my daughter is with her father and Najja went to check on the horses.” She waved a hand. “I wished to apologize for my daughter. She has spent almost all of her life in Africa, so…despite my best intentions she tends to speak her mind.”
He almost chuckled recalling the harsh language from the previous night. It was apparent Lady Adrys had no wish to mention this but felt the need to explain any societal blunder which--from what he’d seen of Jo--would happen.
“This is the country, my lady, we do not stand too much on what London deems right or wrong. However if you could answer one thing for me.”
Her relief apparent, she gave him an encouraging nod.
“Your daughter’s…companion. What is her last name?”
Lady Adrys opened and closed her mouth a few times, her expression confused. He’d never met the woman before last night but he was certain she was rarely at a loss for words.
“I…I do not know.” Her brows furrowed and a look of honest distraught took over her normally composed face. “All I ever call her is Najja. It is all we ever call her.” She blushed and regained her composure. “Najja is fine.”
He merely nodded and sipped some coffee. “Very well. I will see that a doctor is summoned.”
“Thank you, Mr. Faulkner. Excuse me, I shall go sit with my husband.”
He stood when she did and watched her walk out. With a groan, he ate a few more bites then swallowed the rest of his coffee and headed for the door. He left a message for the doctor to be called to the house and headed for his study.
“Good morning, Mr. Faulkner.”
He glanced up and saw the youngest Adrys coming down the staircase. She wore a lavender day dress. He bowed.
