What The Earl Desires (Rakes and Rogues Series)

by Aliyah Burke

  A shadow of a grimace flitted over her face otherwise he would have never known of her discomfort. He sat on the bed, the coverlet around his waist and stared at the woman who’d just vacated it. Her hair unconfined fell to rest upon the small of her back. He blinked and looked again, noting how she only wore a shirt.

  His.

  It fell almost to her knees and lust was like a bolt of lightning through him at the realization. His white linen a stunning offset to the darkened hue of her skin. Her legs were long, toned and mouthwatering. His shaft stiffened in the confines of his own breeches.

  As if she could feel his gaze upon her, she turned her head and met his stare over her shoulder. “I am sorry I took your shirt.”

  “It looks better on you, luv,” he said climbing out and moving to her side. One fingertip under her chin, he sank down until they were face to face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. What about you? I should clean your injury.”

  He’d forgotten all about his own. “Yes,” he whispered refusing to release her gaze.

  “Get on the bed.”

  “If only you meant those words how I wish you to mean them, Najja my love.”

  He skimmed her full lush lips with his thumb before following her order. It didn’t take her long to dress. Without a smidge of hesitation, she removed his shirt and although her back was to him, the sight didn’t affect him any less. The morning light showed him her figure. The narrow tuck of her waist, full hips, and smooth back which was hidden mostly by her hair. Although when she shrugged into her shirt, he caught another glimpse of some scars.

  His fingertips itched with the desire to touch her. Trail his tongue along her spine and take at least a fortnight to learn her secrets and then start all over. She faced him even as she continued to lace up the front of her blouse. No, correction not the front. The ties were on one side. When she finished, she scooped up her boots and her bag of medicine and made her way to him.

  She sat beside him, silent and tied on her black boots. Her weapons between them, he picked one up. Black steel, the handle tightly wrapped in black leather, the weight surprised him, for some reason he’d thought it would be lighter.

  “What are these?” he asked even as he touched the edge on the weapon. Razor sharp.

  “Sais,” she said, sliding one home into the outer side of her boot. That foot went to the floor and she faced him. “Like this.”

  Colin was a rapt pupil as she showed him the rudimentary movements with the weapon. He was awed by her attention to him. She was respectful yet fierce. And he felt oddly like an outsider when he asked her for a slow demonstration and she held the dark steel in her hands to give him just that. The weapons were one with her and she with them.

  He couldn’t forget what he’d just witnessed. Not even after she’d seen to his wound, and braided her hair, draped a cloak down around her, making it look like she could be wearing a skirt beneath it, instead of the highly distracting breeches she did wear, could he forget the mesmerizing power she’d displayed. He got them food and met her outside where he discovered it was nasty cold out and still snowing.

  A while later they were on horseback, the wagon and two draft horses staying until he could send another for them. He had matters which required his attention. There was the small issue of his cousin sending assassins after him. Their mounts were big and strong and they ate away at the ground with thunderous hooves.

  While they rode, he kept an eye on her aware she too was hurt, even if she chose to ignore that fact. Every now and again he would see her casting an eye to the sky. When they stopped to give the horses a break and eat some of the packed food he asked her about it.

  “I was searching for Indrani.” Her response fell.

  He knew she was withdrawing into herself and he hated it but for the moment he couldn’t do anything about it. They rode hard, barely stopping except to rest the horses and relieve themselves. Even then, she never spoke up just did her thing when he did. It was late afternoon of the following day when Falcon House came into view. Their horses were exhausted and cold from having ridden through the night. The snow still fell heavily.

  A coach waited by the house and he frowned as they drew up and dismounted, his footman holding the reins of the blowing beasts. Giving instructions to see to their wellbeing, he strode up the steps, Najja at his side while the equines were taken away. The door opened and together they stepped into much welcomed warmth.

  Abel stood there. “Welcome home, sir. You have a visitor.”

  All he wanted was a bath and bed. Well, Najja would be more than welcome. “Thank you, Abel. Who?”

  “Mr. Quinn, sir.”

  His rumble of discontent was unheard as a feminine voice reached him. “Najja!” Jo hurried down the stairs to reunite with her friend. He watched them climb up the polished stairs then Najja stopped and faced him. He held his breath as she stared at him wanting to lock her away from everything and have her to himself. Then she closed her eyes and gave him a slight nod before pivoting back around and accompanying Jo up the rest of the way.

  “Tell Mr. Quinn I will see to him after I bathe and get some food.” He took his body up the stairs Najja had just taken.

  Not much later he soaked in a hot bath allowing the heat to ease his sore muscles. Glancing at the wound on his arm, he thought about Najja and her injury. He needed to make sure someone looked at it.

  Shaven, dry, and dressed, Colin made his way to his study. A maid, Molly actually, brought him a tray of food while Abel went to get the man who’d been waiting for him.

  “Thank you, Molly,” he said. She bobbed a curtsey and headed off.

  He’d just dipped his spoon into the soup bowl when the door opened again. Mr. Quinn entered and Abel closed the door without a word. Colin ran his eyes dispassionately over him. Thin with the most outrageous colors of attire. Tangerine and plum with some bright green as well.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Quinn?”

  “My lord, I am sorry for bothering you but I have sent you numerous messages, none of which were responded to.”

  He ate a bite and leaned back in the tall leather chair. “First, I am not a lord. Second, I have no wish to listen to anything my father may have to say. I am a busy man, Mr. Quinn so say what you need to say.”

  The weasely man flushed. “Had you read the messages, my lord, you would understand.” There was more than a hint of censure in his tone.

  “What would I understand?”

  “You are the newest Earl of Clifton, Viscount Stonebridge.”

  Colin was speechless. Then livid. “What game do you play?” He rose and stalked the skinny parti-colored man. “I am the third son.”

  Mr. Quinn swallowed hard, his waxed moustache quivering with the action but never backed up. “That is what I told you in your messages. Your father and brothers are dead. You are the new earl.”

  The room spun slightly and he made his way back to the desk. Heart pounding, he lowered himself into his chair and faced the man who’d been his father’s solicitor for a very long time. I am the Earl of Clifton.

  “Tell me everything,” he barked.

  Chapter Eight

  Najja stood before Hayworth Adrys once again dressed in the understated clothing of a woman who companioned the daughter of an aristocrat. He sat in a chair studying her for a few moments then he got to his feet and approached.

  “Thank you,” he said touching her shoulder.

  “It was nothing.” With a slight smile she stared beyond him out the window to where even more snow fell. “I am all packed and ready to continue on to Kittle Manor.” Her injury had been cleaned and bandaged again, providing her with mild discomfort. Nothing she’d not had before.

  “We will leave first thing in the morning. You should get some rest. I know you two rode through the night.”

  Sleep sounded wonderful and she didn’t argue. “Until later.” She headed for the door only to stop when Lord Adrys called her name. Once again facing him
, she waited for him to speak.

  “You know you are family to me, right?”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  He sighed. “One day, Najja. One day you will realize I mean it.” His expression softened. “Get some rest.”

  She left the room conflicted about how his words made her feel. Jo waited for her outside her own door. In her hands she held a tray.

  “I brought you some food.”

  “Thank you.”

  Inside her room, the women sat on the bed and shared the sandwiches and tea. “Are you okay, Najja?”

  “Of course. I told you I would be back.”

  Jo chewed her food in silence. “I am scared of what London will be like.”

  “I am sure you will make many friends in no time. There are museums, art galleries, and other things to do. Walking at Vauxhall, shopping in the West End.”

  Her friend frowned. “How do you know all of this?”

  “Your mother.”

  Jo grunted and took another bite. “I fear I will be nothing but a disappointment to her. And Papa.”

  Najja wiped her hands and stared at her friend. “Jo, you will do fine. You have the manners, you merely need to decide to impart them. The moment you stop doing things to spite your mother, all will be well.”

  “I am just tired of her constantly telling me I have to make a good match. I am more than the money Papa can offer. So much more. I want to travel, have adventure. Not spend my days in drawing rooms doing embroidery.” The frustration could be tasted it flowed from Jo in such powerful waves. “I cannot embroider to save my life.”

  That was the truth. Jo had no skill in that area. But Najja had no words of encouragement to give. The fact remained Jo was looked upon as a commodity. To further someone’s position or to give an impression of good behavior.

  “What am I going to do without you?”

  “By the time I leave, Jo, you will be ready to face your future here.”

  “No,” she said solemnly. “I do not think so.”

  “Your father loves you, Jo. He will ensure a good match.”

  Big blue eyes shimmered with tears. “A good match for him perhaps. I want a love match or none at all.” With that fervent statement, Jo bolted from the room.

  Her heart went out to the young woman but it was time Jo learned that life wasn’t always fair. So she didn’t go after her, deciding to let her cry this out on her own. Najja ate the rest of her meal and carried the tray downstairs to the kitchen.

  She detoured to the library and read a book for a while. Sleep called to her and yet she was restless. The house had fallen silent as the night progressed along. Slipping from the extensive library, she made her way to another room. With a final look around, she turned the handle and entered.

  The room was warm and lit by a blazing fire in the hearth. She skimmed the room halting when she spied long legs sticking from a large chair near the heat source. The figure shifted and she saw one long arm holding a bottle flash briefly.

  Another glance around to ensure they were alone and she padded silently along the thick oriental rugs that graced the floor. Pausing before the chair, she stood in silence waiting for him to notice her.

  Colin’s shirt was rolled up to his elbows, he’d discarded his waistcoat and he looked rumpled. And more than slightly distraught.

  “Go away, Abel,” he muttered without looking up. “Or Berry. Leave me.”

  She reached for the bottle which dangled precariously from his fingertips. He snarled and glared up at her, his eyes blazing with loathing.

  “I think not.”

  “Najja,” he said struggling to push up from where he lounged slumped in the chair, anger giving way to shock.

  Bottle beside the chair, she pushed back against his chest keeping him where he sat. “Colin,” she replied in a low tone.

  “What are you doing here, luv?” His hand cupped the side of her face.

  A million responses came to her but only one left. “Looking for you.”

  His legs widened and she crept closer, his strong thighs on either side of her. “Why?” he asked in a low rasp.

  “To see you again before we depart come morning.” She dragged her hands up his legs and over his crotch, feeling his shaft harden beneath the material of his trousers. “Unless you would like me to leave.”

  The loathing in his eyes was engulfed by raging desire. The green darkened to a storm-tossed sea as he stood only to draw her up with him. Her breath caught when he lowered his head to hers and placed light feathery kisses along her cheek before finally swooping in and capturing her mouth.

  He mastered her mouth, sweeping in, plunging, dancing with her tongue and encouraging her to respond in kind. Never before Colin did she enjoy kissing. Most of those she’d had to endure plastering their mouths to her had foul, nasty tasting breath. But not this man. His taste was addictive and unique, with a hint of the whisky he’d been drinking.

  His body, hard and warm pressed against her, sending her pulse to a higher speed. Good heavens, if this is what people felt when they indulged it was no wonder so many did it. She ended the kiss and captured his face in her hands, holding his gaze. His eyes burned with an intensity that seared through her to the very center of her being. She wanted nothing more than to offer him comfort. Beneath the tough exterior he portrayed, she sensed pain.

  Their eyes locked while their breathing slowed. Calmed. He turned his face and pressed a single kiss to her palm. He blinked slowly before linking her about the waist with strong hands. The next breath she fit flush against him. Not any light between them, all hardness, pressed along her and she loved it.

  Unsure of how to say what her body demanded, she hesitated. Najja had never been in this situation before. Swallowing the last of her uncertainty, she moved her hands to his shirt. With deft moves she untied the loosely knotted cravat then set upon the buttons. One by one they slid from their holes, exposing his rock-hard golden tan chest. The heat from his body singed her fingertips.

  His shirt hung open and she slid her hands back up to drag his cravat off then push the white linen from his broad shoulders. It fell unimpeded to the thick rug they stood upon. Her breath caught in her throat. With the fire as a backdrop he looked like a golden god.

  Wide shoulders tapered to a lean waist. His lower half draped in tight black dinner breeches and shiny black-top boots. Colin’s hair gave him a rakish look, some dangled over one eye and she longed to brush it back away from his face. The flickering light glinted off his gold earring.

  Father’s voice flared up but the intensity in the man’s gaze before her banished it. This was her moment. Not for anyone else but her. And she was going to enjoy it. She reached up and smoothed the unruly lock back away from his face. Without a word he lifted her, carried her over to a chaise, which faced the fire, and laid her upon the jacquard pattern.

  His kisses sent her reeling. Slow and thorough, he explored her mouth, deep sweeping strokes that blended their tastes. She gasped when he moved down her body, removed her shirt and suckled her breasts. Her skin tingled from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.

  He grazed the tips with his teeth and she gasped to the room. “Colin!”

  “Easy, luv. There is no rush. Let me enjoy you.”

  She knew nothing aside from his tactile communication. Her senses swam with each stroke and caress he bestowed upon her. His lips made love to her face and neck while one hand slid beneath the waist of her trousers, removed them and her undergarment then cupped her core.

  The palpitation of his seeking fingers made her jump at the contact. He mumbled words of love while one finger stroked her cleft’s stiff nub, shooting liquid fire through her veins. Body aflame with passion, Najja smoothed her hands over hard, corded muscles and tugged him closer.

  His caresses sent her spiraling into uncharted territory. The scream raced from her throat, unable to be restrained. His mouth caught it. Soon she trembled all over again as his tongue and finger move
d in erotic tandem with one another.

  Wave after wave of euphoric pleasure washed over her. But she needed more. Her fingers gripped harder and he broke the kiss.

  “So sweet,” he murmured, pressing light tantalizing kisses down between the valley of her breasts.

  She grabbed at his hair and he moved lower. His tongue replaced his fingers and her body jerked with shock and pleasure. Words escaped her and she shook with exhaustion from the expenditure of energy from the previous releases. He brought her to another fevered pitch and slid back up her body. He dragged his fingers back over the highly sensitive nub and teased it. The action pushed her over the edge and she arched up, her release swarming her relentlessly.

  The head of his shaft slipped into her as she rode out the pulses flowing over her. Then he was embedded deep within her slickness. There had been a brief moment of pain but Colin had her so sensitive and desiring more of him she barely noticed.

  Her eyes struggled to stay open and she noticed in the flickering firelight the beads sweat on his brow, the clenched jaw, and tendons in his neck. He moved slow at first, bringing her experiences she’d never imaged. Taut as a wire he plucked at her, seeking a response and her body answered.

  The room filled with their pants, grunts and the crackling of the fire. He coaxed her with expert caresses to follow his lead. Whispered words accompanied her along the path. In and out he stroked, stretching her, filling her. Completing her.

  Legs tight around his lean hips she gasped when his mouth covered hers and he increased his pace. He nipped her lower lip before soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. With a moan of blissful surrender she allowed herself to be swallowed up by the rush her completion afforded her. Seconds later, Colin stiffened, his shaft pulsed and released his seed deep inside her.

  Boneless. Sweaty. Utterly spent.

  She had no reason to move. Colin remained between her legs, his heated skin on hers, their bodies still joined intimately.