Lifting the reins, Colin set out after her, grateful she didn’t appear to be hiding her trail or destination. Salvage moved easily through the deep snow.
Deeper and deeper he went, realizing he had no light with him other than the slight bit filtering through the tall trees. Suddenly he found himself at the edge of a clearing. In the middle was Najja. Her horse stood off to one side, out of the way and waiting patiently for his owner.
He focused on Najja again. She wore no coat. That was the first thing he noticed. The next was she worked with a whip and a sai. Slowly he moved closer, eyes fixated on her. As pure of motion as when she’d demonstrated her sais. The whip was an extension of her, lashing where she commanded with the barest of flicks. The air filled with the tinkle of metal.
Fineas snorted and her head lifted, eyes opened and met his gaze. They swirled with a myriad of emotions for two heartbeats. Then it vanished to be replaced by a blank stare.
She snapped her wrist and the whip had wrapped around her waist. He realized she’d always had a whip. It was her belt.
I never knew.
Najja trudged through the snow to grab her cloak and put it on. “What do you need?”
He frowned. Not because she didn’t call him Colin or even Lord Clifton. It had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the resignation in her tone. Colin buried his need to yell at her foolishness of running off as she had.
“I came to check on you.”
She harrumphed and swung up on Fineas. Hell, even that she did in a way that was smooth and evocative.
“I am fine.” Fineas began walking.
“I am a pretty good listener, Najja,” he said.
He smiled slightly when she stopped and rotated around to look at him. There was indecision in her gaze but no more animosity.
“Why do you care?” Her question was blunt.
“Ah, luv, do you really have to ask?”
She dropped her gaze. “It was dumb of me to run off. I have never…what they must think.”
He moved Salvage up beside her. “Adrys wants you back safe, that is all. Ride with me.”
Their horses began walking side by side. The wind whipped around them and he pulled his collar up more to protect his neck. When the small crofters hut came into view with a small stable for the horses, he led them in.
Once the horses were in and protected, he guided her inside the hut. Soon a fire snapped and popped in the hearth and the wintery chill began to be beaten back. From where he sat on his haunches before the flickering flames, he observed her. Najja’s face still remained flushed from both her workout and the cold. He honed in on the whip that acted as her belt, cinching around her waist. She stood ramrod straight and stared off into the distance at something only she could see.
“Talk to me, Najja,” he implored.
Her gaze snapped to him and he noticed how unfocused it was. Not long but he did see.
She sighed heavily and sank to the bed he’d pushed over before the fire, in lieu of no chairs. Najja perched on the absolute farthest spot from him. “My actions are inexcusable. I have never--”
“Stop it, Najja! Just stop.” He flexed his fingers inside his gloves and pushed up to settle on the other end of the bed from her, grateful for the protection his coat provided him, no matter how meager. The cold still lingered, almost defiantly.
Silence descended broken up by the crackling fire. She never moved, just seemed to withdraw into herself with each passing second. Her gaze transfixed upon the flames and he knew she was mesmerized by them.
“What is going on?”
He purposefully kept his tone gentle, wanting her to share. A new concept for him but he’d come to realize when it came to Najja, he was exposed to a whole new realm of thinking and mannerisms. It mattered not his actions weren’t an accepted practice of men, especially one in his position. He didn’t care. All that mattered to him was Najja and making her happy.
She merely blinked, her expression revealing nothing. He ran a hand over his mouth and stared at her. He could see it. Beneath her composed façade sat evidence of her exhaustion. Tightness at the corners of her eyes, exhausted eyes.
Najja reminded him in that moment of Royce. As if moments away from one’s breaking point. Unlike Royce however, he knew this had been her entire life.
“What happened with Jo?”
Finally. She pulled her gaze from the fire and focused on him. And yet he wondered if she truly saw him or it went right through. He hated the bleakness her eyes held.
“I forgot my job and allowed myself to get close. Nothing more.”
“She loves you like a sister.”
A negligent shrug. “No matter. I am here to keep her safe.”
He forced himself to remain where he sat. “What about you, Najja? When will you allow yourself to be happy?”
Her jaw clenched briefly and he knew he’d hit the mark. She’d thought about it.
“Is that it?” he questioned. “You know what you want and just cannot allow yourself to take it?”
Najja plucked at her skirt and removed her sais, setting them beside her. “Why are you asking? What does it matter to you if I know what I want?”
It mattered because he wanted to be what made her happy. “I care,” he said simply.
“Do not bother. I will be gone soon enough.”
He frowned. “Do you want to leave?”
She looked taken aback for a moment before she recovered and her face composed into that damnable blank mask. A mild shake of her head.
“I hardly see how that is relevant. I
am
leaving.”
“Why? Your father is not here. Why go back to live under his rule?”
Najja picked up a sai and spun it in one hand. Something that calmed her, he figured.
“You became earl why?”
This time he had been caught off guard by her question. She stared at him, the sai point down on the floor as she twirled it.
“I was next in line,” he said. “I never had any desire to be the earl.”
“Yet here you are, Earl of Clifton. And why?” She held up a hand halting him from making a statement. “I will tell you. Because we both have obligations regardless of whether we wish for something else.” She shrugged with no emotion. “I owe Father my life.”
She made sense except for her final statement. “No, Najja. You do not.”
“I do.”
Her conviction made him want to shake her. Why couldn’t she see there were other options?
“And if you could do anything what would it be? If you could have anything, what would it be?”
“I would go home.”
The wistfulness in her voice struck a chord in him. “You would not want to stay in England?”
“No. I miss home.”
He didn’t know what to say. If he were to be honest with himself, it hurt to hear those words from her mouth. He wanted her to wish to remain here. With him.
“So you would return to your father?” Merely speaking the words created unease within him.
“Africa is much bigger than England. Returning there does not mean returning to Father.” Another shrug. “Had I the choice.”
He leaned closer desiring her to feel his truth in his words. “You have the choice, Najja.”
She gave him a wry smile. “No, Colin. I do not.” Sai back on the bed she rose up on her knees and shuffled closer to him. “Thank you though.”
Her evocative scent surrounded him and he bit the inside of his lip to keep himself put. “For what?”
Najja sat back on her heels. Her knees touched his thigh before she swiveled and put her feet upon the floor and faced the fire.
“No one has ever asked me what I wanted. Ever. In all my years. Until you,” she said softly with a quick glance to him. “You have asked me twice.”
The honest gratitude humbled him. He shoved to his feet and paced until grabbing the blanket that had been behind his saddle. Then he strode back to the bed and sat, turning her to face him. He knew his intent sat stamped across his face. She didn’t move. Her eyes held his as he eliminated the distance between them.
Without pause, he wrapped her up in his arms and covered her mouth with his. She responded instantly, her arms twined around his neck. He murmured his pleasure and lowered her back upon the bed and unfastened the tie holding the cloak to her. The kiss ended and he pulled back. Her lowered lids opened slowly, exposing him to passion-hazed orbs. No refusal. Desire. For him.
In their depths he saw what she could not--or wouldn’t allow herself to--say. In her eyes he saw love. An emotion he’d avoided even thinking about since Francesca. One which he would have expected to send him running in the opposite direction. Right now, running was the furthest thing from his thoughts.
Oblivious to the cold he lowered himself to her body. Their heat and the fire combined a warmth to ensure relative comfort. Brushing his thumbs along her lips, he moved in close for a kiss.
“Luv,” he breathed across her plump lips before their world condensed to the two of them and a crackling fire.
Colin explored her body, memorized her dips and swells. Traced lingering kisses over each scar marring her skin. Indulged in all she had to offer, the only noise came from them as they made long, slow love and the fire. Sated and exhausted he covered them and stared down at her, propped up on his arm. The firelight brought her skin to a glow and his heart lurched deep in the confines of his heart.
He had fallen in love.
Chapter Fourteen
Najja stirred and opened her eyes. It took her a couple seconds to process where she was. She lay facing a roaring fire, which warmed her. If that had not however, at her back rested a large warm body. Colin. He pressed up along her, one powerful arm draped over her midsection, holding her close. Naked as she was, the cold was the furthest thing from her mind.
She blinked a few times, reluctant to move from the haven of his embrace. While it had not been a full night she’d never felt so cherished in her life. A moment in time she would never forget.
He shifted and pressed a kiss to a spoke behind her ear. “Are you awake, luv?”
“Yes, I should get back.” She began to rise only to have him tug her back down along his hard body. His stiff length dug into her skin.
Silent, he rolled her toward him and staring deep into her eyes, adjusted and slid into her with a smooth flex of his hips. She submitted to him without hesitation. They moved in tandem and uncovered their explosive releases at the same time.
With his large body bearing her further into the thin mattress, she felt delicate and feminine. Not a woman who’d spilled the blood of many. Watching him from beneath lowered lids, Najja smoothed her hands over the muscular expanse of his back, his skin smooth and the wool of the blanket, rough and scratchy.
“Najja, I--”
She covered his mouth with her fingers. “No.” He kissed her fingers and she ignored the desire to forget about everything else. “I must get back.”
He sighed heavily but allowed separation. She remained close to the fire as she drew on her clothes. In leggings and shirt, she braced a foot on the bed and laced up a boot. After, she slid her sai home and glanced up to find Colin’s hungry gaze on her. She covered up her nervousness from his intensity by switching legs and focusing on the other foot.
A hard feat to do when he sat down and brushed her hands away before taking over. She stared at his hands while they tightened her boot. His fingers worked the leather laces nimbly as he tugged them and moved up to the top where it ended mid-calf. Their eyes were locked as he gave her the other sai and she--with years of experience under her belt--slid it home without looking away from his powerful stare.
“So beautiful,” he whispered before he broke eye contact.
Speechless, she watched him replace the bed to its original spot along a wall from where he’d brought it to the fire. Power. Grace. Raw strength. Only a few of the words she thought of when he found his way into her musings. She fastened on her skirt and studied him.
From his high quality riding breeches, shiny boots, and sharply pressed shirt, he screamed wealth. Tall and powerful, he carried himself in a way which people recognized as a leader. But right now his normally sharp green eyes were soft and languid. Dark hair, a tousled mess, dropped a thick lock over his forehead.
She loved his hair. Thick and silken. He glanced at her and a slow sensual smile unfurled on his face. With his greatcoat, hat, and gloves in hand he returned to her side. Unnerved by the probing quality of his gaze she lowered her eyes and attached her whip around her waist.
“Who made that for you?” he asked, touching the three chain links which hung.
“A weapons master in Japan. Master Kiyoshi.” She remembered him with fondness.
“How does this work like a whip?”
She heard his disbelief yet took no offense; it was not supposed to let people know it was a weapon. And although she’d just put it on, she removed it and held up the end where the three silver links hung.
“When snapped with the precise amount of force these open and will shred into whatever is in their way.” He frowned and touched one. She pointed to the nigh invisible break. “They open this way so there are two penetration points for each. And,” she paused to graze the short black handle, “like your canes that hide a sword this too has another secret.”