“I was her first and by God I will be her last,” he vowed then yanked open the door and reentered the ball.
Chapter Eleven
Najja woke to vivid nightmares for the first time in years. Her body sat drenched in sweat and she had her weapons held before her. One in a defensive position and the other ready to deliver a kill shot.
Her hands shook as she lowered the sais to the mattress beside her. She ran a hand over her mouth and bolted from the bed, barely making it before she lost the contents of her stomach. On shaky limbs she got cleaned up and splashed some clean water on her face. She stared at her flickering reflection in the small mirror over the wash stand, courtesy of the fire which still burned in the hearth.
Calm yourself. Deep breaths.
She continued to tell herself that as she stoked the fire and returned to the bed. She stood beside it and honed in on her sais. Flames licked at her skin, lowering her more into her own private hell. Without another breath, she fit them in her hands and began a workout. More sweat poured but this time she pressed harder. Muscles burned and lungs screamed for respite yet she continued on.
A whisper of feeling alerted her to the fact she was no longer alone. She finished and paused, ingesting large breaths of air, filling her lungs until they no longer burned. Folding her legs, she sank to the thick rug and allowed the black steel to leave her grasp.
“Why are you awake, Jo?” she asked without glancing in her direction.
“I heard you scream.” Footsteps drew near. “Are you all right?” Jo’s tone was laced with concern.
Shame at being heard ran over her and she struggled against her embarrassment. “I am fine. Go back to sleep.”
Najja could feel Jo’s hesitation but she continued to sit rigid on the floor. Eventually Jo’s steps retreated and the door opened.
“Jo?”
“Yes, Najja?”
“Thank you for checking on me.” She met her friend’s gaze.
A tremulant smile lifted Jo’s lips. “Good night, Najja.” Jo’s farewell was in her native tongue and she responded in kind.
The moment she was alone again, she scooped up her sais and got to her feet. She shuffled to the window and sat on the cushion in the sill. Frozen until the first shafts of morning light sliced through the dark, Najja saw the snow still fell outside. Deep inside she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that filled her from head to feet. Something was out there. Something or someone wanted to hurt the Adrys family. She had no clue why, who, or how. Helpless was not a feeling she did well.
“It makes no sense,” she muttered, her breath condensing on the window.
Najja climbed upon the bed and lay back down, wishing she could get more sleep. Tugging the blanket up, she closed her eyes and tried. It didn’t matter, even with one hand wrapped around a sai she found no rest to be had.
Not much later, she sought out Lord Adrys in his study, well aware of his early morning habits.
“Good morning, Najja. It…good Lord, are you feeling okay?”
“A rough night ’tis all. Thank you for inquiring.”
He appeared skeptical but kept his thoughts to himself. “What, then, brings you here so early?”
She approached the edge of his desk and stood there assessing the man she saw. His morning suit perfectly pressed, cravat tied in a way Beau Brummell could be envious of. His face, tanned from the years of exposure to Africa’s clime, watched her with unerring directness.
“What did you withhold from me?”
His eyes shifted slightly to the right before they refocused on her.
“Why do you think I did?”
She altered her stance yet refused to allow him to drop his gaze. Najja barely moved even though she wanted to demand. Since the fire at their house in Africa she’d felt a bit on edge. An unpleasant feeling that grew on a daily basis.
Except when she was with Colin. During those few and precious times she’d had alone with him, her soul had found peace. Those memories she would call upon and remind herself she
had
experienced true happiness.
“Tell me,” she said tonelessly.
His face displayed his distress. Hayworth rose and sat immediately before shoving his hand through his hair. Wordlessly he gestured to a chair and she lowered herself to the end of it.
“Before I met Honoria I was involved with this other girl.” He paused. “Elizabeth, daughter of the late Marquis of Plantar. She was…beautiful. And I loved her. Her father did not approve of me for he had already promised her to another. An aging duke.”
Najja waited, understanding he had to tell this at his own speed and in his own way.
“We had plans to elope and go to Greta Green. Someone found out and my father arranged for me to miss it. When I made it back to town I was told Elizabeth had been sent to the Continent.”
He reached for the glass of scotch on his desk, his hand shook and she placed her gaze back upon him.
“I think she is behind these attacks.”
“Why?” she asked, breaking her silence.
“I gave Elizabeth a bracelet. The very same one I got from the post along with a letter filled with anger. Full of how I abandoned her and left her to be humiliated alone.”
“So now she wants you to suffer like she did.”
His face crumpled. “Yes. I had hoped it a hoax but when the second message came, I knew it was real.”
A vindictive woman.
“Anything else? I need a description of her.” Her mind whirled with the possibilities this new information presented. In her experience, women had the potential to be just as nasty if not more so than men. And to be honest she’d paid more attention to men near Jo versus women.
Hayworth gave her the description of how she looked last time he saw her. She didn’t point out the nostalgia in his voice. He loved his wife, she knew this, but the way he spoke about the one who got away…
She stopped that line of thought for it had nothing to do with her.
“Is there anything else?” she questioned again once he’d fallen silent.
“That is all.”
She pushed to her feet and strode to the door. Before she left, Najja paused and spun back. “It may be prudent to have Jo remain close to home.”
Hayworth ran a hand over his mouth. “Keep her safe, Najja. She is my world.” A brief hesitation. “My entire world.”
She nodded, understanding completely, before she vacated the room. With a quick peek in the breakfast room, she headed to the music room once she was sure Jo wasn’t present. Heart heavy and mind racing, Najja made her way to the piano. She strolled around the polished black object, her fingers trailing over the wood.
Eventually she migrated to the window. One shoulder against the curtain-shrouded pane she stared out at the snowy London morning. No snow fell for the moment but the sun had a hard time penetrating the gray clouds and the thick black coal smoke that puffed endlessly into the sky.
She focused on the frost sprinkling the glass and allowed her mind to drift along carried by a light wind. It went to Colin. Seeing him last night had been--
“Najja?”
Jo’s voice snapped her line of thought. Blinking, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jo standing there in a lovely green dress. Her hair done up in ringlets gave her an innocent air.
“Good morning, Jo.”
“You are up early, did you sleep well?”
Not a bit.
Najja smiled and lied. “I slept fine. What do you have planned for today?”
She pursed her lips briefly. “Papa said he thinks I should stay in, he says it is too dangerous for me out there.”
Najja was grateful it had come from her father. Jo tended to listen to him more than her mother. “Good advice,” she remarked offhandedly.
Jo walked to her side. “I have a caller so I will be in the parlor.” She touched her arm and added, “It is Miss Clara from last night.”
That made her feel better. “Have a good visit,” Najja said.
Jo fairly skipped from the room, leaving her alone once more. Left to her own devices, Najja spent the reminder of the morning in her room. She popped her head in the parlor and found the young women chatting like old friends with a pot of chocolate and sweets between them. There was an invitation for her to join them but she declined, needing to be alone still.
Najja made her way back to the quiet solitude of the music room. She sat on the padded bench before the piano, closed her eyes, and began to play. This was the one instrument she excelled at and she allowed her soul to pick the piece. It came from within. Not anything written anywhere. Her own creation, something that no one could take from her, not even Father.
Her instincts screamed to her and she ended up dancing her fingers over the smooth bone keys.
“You are a woman of many talents, Najja.” Colin’s deep voice wrapped around her, warming her like he held her.
Opening her eyes, she kept her gaze riveted upon her fingers where they sat against the keys, not confident to look at him. “What are you doing here, Lord Clifton?”
He emitted a low rumble and his arms, clad in crisp white sleeves, settled upon the piano. One on each side of her. He’d boxed her in. She could feel his body heat even through the material of her dress. Her senses swarmed under the onslaught of his masculine scent. She grew wet and fought the urge to shift on the seat.
“Colin,” he murmured. “My father was Lord Clifton.”
She ignored that. “Why are you here?”
She shivered at the teasing swipe of his tongue along the shell of her ear. He lowered his body so he sat on the bench beside her. With two fingers he lifted her head so their eyes could meet. Her breath caught in her throat as his incredibly vibrant green eyes captured hers.
Neither spoke. A few charged tics of time passed before he moved. Not slow and unhurried, no, he pounced. Struck fast, covering her mouth with his and taking what he wanted. His hands held her head, keeping her still as he ravaged her mouth.
She couldn’t move, even
had
she wanted to. Boneless, she sat there and reveled in his touch one more time. His tongue thrust along hers, rubbing and stroking. Making her lightheaded. This was better than a memory any day. The kiss ended and she stared at him, heart pounding hard in her chest. His eyes burned with fervent fire.
“Do not ever walk away from me again, Najja,” he ordered.
Realization slapped her in the face. What was she doing? The room could be entered at any time. Moving with swift alacrity she got out of his reach and had the large object between them. He followed her escape, a frown upon his face.
“Or run.”
Ignoring the demands her body made in regards to Colin, she met his gaze remaining where she had some distance between them. He looked so handsome, so rakish, so…everything she desired.
“What do you want?” she asked, grateful her voice didn’t waver.
His gaze intensified and she knew. He wanted her. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be so.
“What do you think?” He rose and began circumventing the piano toward her.
Every fiber in her told her to run and she ignored them. Much like she always did when it came to Colin Faulkner. He was her one weakness. The chink in her otherwise impervious armor.
“I think you being in here with me, alone, is highly inappropriate.” She focused on her hands briefly before her walls were refortified enough to meet his gaze again.
He lifted one shoulder in a laconic shrug she took to mean he didn’t care about that. “We need to talk. Sit down so we can talk or you can continue to try and avoid me touching you. But know this. I will catch you and when I do, talking will not be on my mind. I do not give a damn what room this is. I will strip your--”
“Stop,” she interrupted on a beg. Her body responded to the visual he’d given and had done so with powerful waves of lust. To hear him speak those words…almost her undoing.
He did but his eyes told her he had no wish to. Colin gestured and she walked to a padded bench along the wall. Where she’d sat while Jo was practicing. Perching upon the edge, she forced herself to breathe calmly when Colin sat beside her. His strong thigh pressed intimately against hers.
She swallowed and ignored the memories of her and him with no clothing barriers between them. The feel of his skin, the smell of it. And how he made her feel. Her palms grew sweaty and she tried to calm down her heart.
Colin leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “Why did you not tell me, Najja? I could have hurt you.
Did
I hurt you?”
“No,” she said embarrassed to be discussing this. “It was not important to say.” With a burst of nervous energy she walked across the smooth floor to sit back on the bench before the piano. One hand idly moved upon some keys.
She could feel him behind her even though there was no sound. He didn’t sit, instead he leaned against the sturdy object to her left where they could see one another. Colin put his fisted hands upon the smooth black top. “Are you carrying my child?”
Had she not been sitting she would have fallen over. Her hands shook and she blinked rapidly a few times. Positioning her second hand on the keys as well she played softly. “No.” That single word birthed pain in her chest. “I am well aware how it would ruin your life if I were. I have no desire to do that.”