“Miss,” he stuttered. It was obvious he longed to say something to Colin but there was this cold, haughty look on Colin’s face that expected no confrontation or questions.
“I bid you a good rest, Mr. Faulkner. I best be running along.” Gentry backed to the door gave her another nod before he scurried off into the coldness.
The air changed when only the two of the remained in the quaint building. It grew heavier. Thicker. Charged with sexual awareness and tension. Colin removed his hat and stared at her. Silent, she moved to the dishes and scooped him up some of the simmering stew and gave him his bowl along with a chunk of bread. Then she tended to her own.
“Why so pensive?” he asked in a low voice after they’d eaten in silence for a while.
She watched him finish off his bread, without comment, she put the rest of hers on his plate, ignoring how intimate that appeared. Najja searched for the right word and stirred her stew while she did.
“This seems odd to me.” One of his eyebrows rose. “Think about it. They have been following us, or at least keeping pace. They could steal the stuff right now, why you were in here. Every trip made there is a stopover here. This is not about getting the whisky, although I bet it is a bonus. This…these acts are personal. Someone wants to hurt you. And they are attacking your people to get you to take one of the trips.”
With a sigh she got up and began to pace, her body tingled the way it did before a fight or something similar. The rush of adrenaline which preceded it.
“I wish I had Fineas,” she commented offhandedly.
Glancing at Colin who seemed almost lost in thought as he ate, she smiled. Something about him…he was magnetic. She longed to run her fingers through his thick hair, press tiny kisses all over his shadowed jaw line. Undress him and go from there. His sea-like gaze stared into the fire and she knew he mulled over what she’d told him. Sliding the strap for her items over one shoulder, she slipped to the door and let herself out. Then she headed to the shelter where the horses and wagon waited.
Murmuring softly to the large animals, she ran her hands over their heavy coats. They were warm and responded to her light touch. Whispering softly to the both of them, she used their heat to stay warm. It didn’t take too long for her eyes to adjust to the inky darkness. She peered through the night keeping her eyes searching for anything which could be potentially dangerous.
Not much later, she heard the light footfalls of an approaching individual. Her breath caught for a moment until she identified it as Colin.
“Najja?” he called.
“Here,” she replied stepping from where she’d been between the horses.
She felt his tension before he made it to her. His hand bit into the flesh of her arm, even with the layers of clothing she wore. “What the hell were you thinking? Leaving the house without me?”
Her nose flared and she swallowed before responding. “As you so aptly pointed out, Mr. Faulkner, I am not a slave. I am doing what I am along on this trip to do.”
“Do you have any idea what went through my mind when I realized you were no longer in the cottage?” His voice demanded in a rasp.
“No.” She stepped closer to him. “I am sorry you were--”
His mouth slammed over hers, not asking for permission but taking what he wanted from her. Najja sank into him and gave all he demanded. Then more. He ripped his mouth off hers with a low growl.
“I know, Najja. You are capable of taking care of yourself. But damn it all, I am a man and I cannot just roll over and stop being concerned for your safety. Especially with this asinine plan. Do you realize these people take pleasure in killing things that mean something to me?” His words sounded almost tortured.
Licking her lips, she weighed her words cautiously. Did he realize what he said? “I am travelling as a maid, Colin,” she said softly. “You are an earl’s son and highly unlikely to give a whit about a servant.” She placed both hands on his chest. “Please trust that I know what I am doing. I am not some weak woman who will faint at the first sight of danger. This is what I do.”
He captured her hands in his, holding them tight against him. “Najja--”
“We should continue on, the snow is coming down faster.” With great reluctance she withdrew her hands from his heat, climbed up into the wagon, stashed her things and laid the heavy blanket over her legs.
He muttered to himself and led the horses out into the increasing snow before jumping up beside her. She handed him another blanket for his own legs and as he took it he said, “This would be so much better if you would share mine with me.”
She chuckled. “I was thinking it would be better if it was not snowing and so cold.”
“I guess this is a bit colder than you are used to,” he commented, getting the horses to move out.
“I have spent time in The Orient which was cold and the desert is not the warmest place at night, but lately, it is true, I have been in warmer climes.”
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
“Fine, thank you. And you?”
“Cold. Care to slide closer and warm me?” His voice teased.
“I think not,” she said as a warning chill snaked up her spine. Grateful for the darkness, she slid her hand under the blanket and undid the buttons which held her wraparound skirt on, leaving her in her leather breeches.
“Are you sure? Think of all the fun we could have under these blankets.”
A wealth of mental images assaulted her at his words. “I am sure,” she whispered leaning down simultaneously removing the blanket and gripping the handles of her sais. Her instincts hollered but she couldn’t make anything out in this darkness. The single lantern hindered more than it helped her vision. They continued on, the pace steady and monotonous.
“Halt!” a sharp voice splintered the snowy pre-dawn.
Six horses carrying men surrounded the wagon. In the partial light she couldn’t make out their features for they were concealed behind dark cloth. It wasn’t hard to make out the glint of steel in the light from the arriving morning. She hated that they’d gotten her unawares. The cold had lulled her into a sleepy state and she had let down her guard.
“What do you want?” Colin demanded as the reins were jerked from his hand. She knew he had a weapon beside him and thought to follow his lead.
“That should be obvious, guv,” the man nearest him said raising a pistol. “You really are travelling with a woman. I would think after the last ones were killed you would have brought more men with you.”
“Who says I did not do that?” Colin snapped.
“Get down,” the man growled.
“No,” Colin refused.
“Get that wench off, we can take turns with her after I carve this one up.”
“Touch her and I will kill you!” he thundered, reaching toward her.
A hand landed upon her shoulder and she just reacted.
Colin couldn’t even begin to explain the fear that swamped him when the men circled the wagon. All he could think about was how stupid it had been to involve Najja in this. Then came the words of them sharing Najja. Red seemed to settle over his eyes and he noticed the one beside her reach for her. Before he could think to figure out how best to keep her safe, she exploded into action.
The man closest to her had not been expecting her to jump at him but that is exactly what she did. Took him off his horse to the ground. The next second Colin’s own pistol had fired at the man closest to him, launching him backward off his own horse. That left four more. They drew sabers.
He lunged from the wagon and scrambled over the snow-covered road to the dead man whose blood soaked the white flakes. Wrenching the saber from the sheath it resided in, he rolled and came up parrying a strike from the nearest attacker. While he had been an ample swordsman at one time, he’d had very little recourse to maintain such a skill and was rusty.
His hat fell off and he ripped his cloak from his neck in order to give himself more maneuverability. He ignored the
urge to look for Najja, praying she had not lied about her abilities. The rake of a blade tore across his arm and he hissed in pain before putting all his attention on his opponent. The man was good, very good. And he was tired when he pulled the bloodstained blade from the man’s chest to spin and search for the next.
He found he couldn’t move. Najja was doing exactly what she and Wilkes both had said she could. Fight. And she moved with a lethal grace unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Each move effective. She fought two men and there were none remaining beyond them.
Her body was clothed in black breeches and top. Unbound her hair whipped around her face, only allowing glimpses of her expression. Upon her face this look of such fierceness made him glad she was on his side. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a man moving slowly toward his horse.
“I do not think so,” he said. Standing over him, he positioned the saber point at his throat. “I have some questions for you.” Securing him, Colin looked back up in time to see Najja dispatch her final opponent.
She stood there, surrounded by fallen bodies, blood dripping off her weapons, body heaving with each breath she took. Wearing all black with snow falling around her there was a primal and untamed look about her. Her eyes closed briefly before she wiped the blades off on the nearest man’s shirt and sheathed them within her calf-high boots in a singly smooth practiced move.
“Najja,” he said.
Her head snapped up and it took a second before recognition seemed to penetrate the haze surrounding her eyes. She moved to his side immediately and glanced down at the man bound and gagged at his feet.
“Would you like me to kill him for you?” she asked in an emotionless tone.
The man muttered from behind the cloth shoved in his mouth, eyes wide. “Let me see if he talks first,” Colin said.
“Very good, sir.” She walked away leaving him alone with the man.
Crouching down beside him, he ripped the gag away and demanded, “Who hired you?”
The man flashed a defiant look before he glanced back over toward Najja. All color drained from his face. He’d since removed the face covering but still didn’t recognize the man.
“One chance,” Colin warned.
“Viscount Chambers.”
You could have knocked him over with a feather. That was a distant cousin. Why would that man send people to kill him?
“Stephen?”
“In…in the pocket of the large one is the order written with the man’s seal.”
Anger pooled in his gut. Would he never be away from treachery and betrayal? “Get up,” he barked hauling the man to his feet.
Najja had gathered the horses and currently attached them to the back of the wagon. She barely glanced at him and he shoved the man in her direction before moving to check the dead. His rage grew when he found the missive as the man had said. Facing the two left he struggled for control. What the hell was he to do now? He caught Najja’s gaze and she walked toward him after leaning her head in close to the still bound man.
“Did you find the answers you needed?”
“Yes,” he rumbled.
“I think we should continue on. Put him in the wagon with you and I will ride alongside.”
He stared at her, sweat and blood mingled on her face and he wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. “Are you okay?”
“You also need to let me see to your injury. Then we shall leave. Can you help me put the bodies on horses?”
He ignored the fact she never answered his question. They moved quickly. The sole survivor tied in the wagon, dead bodies slung over horses and one left for Najja to ride. He allowed her to see to his injury, both of them ignored the other man and his. Then they set out for the final leg of the delivery.
Najja rode close to the other man, his own cloak covered her from the neck down. The remaining distance done in strained silence. When they finally made it into Ashford, he immediately hollered out for someone to get the constable. The man turned over, the dead as well, he headed to the place who’d ordered his whisky and delivered it.
The wagon empty, the horses in a stable, dry and eating, he finally turned his attention to the woman beside him. Steering her in the direction of an inn, he demanded a room. The proprietor raised a brow but he refused to say another word.
Once he got them up there, he ordered a hot bath. After it arrived he said, “I am going to get you some food. Enjoy the bath, I will be back when you are finished.” Just imagining her in the tub made his body stiffen and no amount of cold weather would eliminate that.
“Very well,” she said in a voice so soft he almost missed it.
“I will knock before I come back in,” he whispered leaving, before it couldn’t be done.
He ate downstairs and talked to the constable again about what happened, leaving out the part where Najja had anything to do with killing. When he was convinced a suitable amount of time had passed, he got up and headed for their room. He paused before knocking. No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing.
With a frown he pushed into the room. The tub was empty, food untouched, and she lay sleeping on the floor. Closing the door and locking it behind him, Colin made his way to the pallet she’d made for herself. She was sound asleep. Her face scrubbed clean, black hair spread out like a fan on the white pillow. The blankets were pulled up to her chin. She looked so innocent. So unlike the woman who had just killed four men to save their lives. He wanted to wake her and put her in the bed, but didn’t disturb her.
Colin made good use of the lukewarm water and put on his clothes. Then he called for them to remove the tub. Once again it was just the two of them. He knew the maids had seen her on the floor but he didn’t say anything to them about it, for it was none of their affair.
He made his way over to her side and crouched down, not touching her. “Najja,” he said.
She barely stirred. Colin frowned when he saw beads of sweat upon her forehead. He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. He blinked and when he had his eyes open again, he found himself held immobile by her powerful gaze.
“Come on, Najja,” he said, putting as much authority in his words as he could. “Get to the bed.”
“Bed is yours.”
“We can share. I am exhausted and I know you are as well. As much as I would love to explore your body, this is not the night. But we can at least both be comfortable.”
He saw her indecision and took the choice from her. With a sigh, he slid his arms under her and lifted her off the floor and carried her to the narrow bed. It didn’t take long to get her under the covers. He ensured the lock had been engaged on the door and climbed into the bed with just his breeches on. Laying between Najja and the door and with only the fire offering light he gazed at her.
Her lashes settled upon her cheeks and by all appearances she had succumbed to sleep. He knew without a doubt short of having numerous men along with him it would have ended in another disaster for him. Najja…had been incredible. He didn’t doubt that those who had yet to fall under her weapons had been just as mesmerized as he’d been.
That reminds me, I want to take a better look at what she used.
Brushing his lips over her forehead, he gathered her close, grateful for the opportunity to at least hold her in his arms. The bouncing and jarring of the wagon, the cold, and the continued vigilance for and the actual attack had worn him out so he willingly went into the land of dreams.
He woke up with a throbbing erection. Lush curves pressed against him, a small hand resting just above the waistband of his breeches. Each inhalation swamped him with the evocative scent of vanilla and spiced roses.
Najja was in his arms and his bed. Turning his head, he sought out her lips, not wishing to wake from the dream. She was hot. So was he. Moving his hand he frowned as he came into contact with clothing. Cracking his eyes, he noticed she lay almost totally on top of him, her leg lay wedged between his, her head buried against his shoulder. She was still asleep.
Why not? They were rested now. Morning’s dim light struggled to penetrate the curtains over the window not that he cared. He was in no rush to leave this bed. Having her stripped bare…that was what he was after.
He moved his left hand over her side, seeking the bottom of her shirt. Once it was in his grasp he drew it up slowly, reveling in the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. Such was it that he could feel his release rushing upon him, just from such a simple and intimate act.
Under his fingertips he could feel the change when he encountered some scars. But what halted him was when he felt a bandage. With a frown and a cooled ardor, he removed his hand and brought it out from the blankets. There upon his skin was the telltale sign of blood. Fear slammed into him. He yanked the blanket away and lifted her shirt. Sure enough, a blood-soaked bandage was in view.
Anger hit him hard. The fact she’d neglected to inform him she had been injured…made him see red. A deep powerful red.
“Najja,” he said, touching her shoulder.
Her eyes opened. For a moment he saw desire in them before it faded into awareness and calculating sharpness. “Time to go?” she asked, her voice weaker than he was used to.
“You are bleeding.”
“Sorry, I thought it would have stopped overnight.”
Her apology made him blink a few times. “Sorry? Why the hell did you not tell me you were wounded?”
She rolled away from him and got out of bed on the other side, the shirt dropping hiding the injury. He could see her wobble a bit. She was weakened.
“I am not used to telling.”
She crouched by her things and withdrew a pouch. He watched in amazement as she poured something into her hand, transferred it to her mouth only to remove it when it was the consistency of paste and slap it over the open wound which she’d uncovered while she moistened the stuff with her saliva.
What the Earl Desires Page 12