“What?” There was awe in his single-word question.
Najja removed his hands from the item and hit the switch. “Touch it carefully. Do not run your hands along it, merely lift it with care.”
“What is this?” he asked lifting his head to meet her gaze.
“Teeth.” She touched the coil and felt the familiar bite that waited for tissue or blood. “Master Kiyoshi added them.”
“This would…” he broke off.
“Rip flesh from bone.” The expression on his face told her he’d not been expecting her blunt reply.
She recalled her first look at this work of art. The lightning fast way the tiny serrated edges snapped free had mystified her. Master Kiyoshi truly was a master craftsman. How he’d created it, she had no idea nor how long it took him to craft. She did know it had saved her life numerous times.
Retracted the curved blades she slid the cool material off his hand to coil on the floor next to their feet. Wordlessly he stepped back and with a snap of her wrist the snake erupted to life, striking out with lethal speed and coming back to wrap around her waist.
He stared at her, wonderment in his eyes. No fear. Colin vanquished the distance and reached with one hand and dipped a finger in the collar of her shirt and drew her close.
“Najja,” he murmured, lowering his head and pressing a kiss to her still-swollen lips.
How she longed to sink into him and remain in his embrace. With a sad smile she drew back and sighed. “I must get back,” she reiterated with conviction. More for herself but she had to regain some control.
A flash of pain blinked across his chiseled features, but so quick she wondered if it were not her imagination. “I will meet you in the stable.”
She licked her lips and nodded before heading outside. The cold air bit into her skin and she shuddered, increasing her stride to reach the small shelter for the horses. Fat flakes fell from the sky, darkening the day further.
The horses snorted upon her entrance and she stepped to Fineas’s side. “Hey, boy,” she uttered in her language. “We will be back where it is warm soon.”
Salvage reached his head over and she rubbed his forehead. “Handsome man you are, too,” she crooned to him, still speaking in her native language. “I have fallen in love with your master.”
“Turning him against me?” Colin asked from behind her.
“No,” she replied in English. “Only telling him how beautiful he is.”
“Enamoring him.”
He appeared beside her and reached for Salvage’s reins and untied him. She moved the bar that kept Fineas contained and her stallion stepped out behind her. She had no desire to leave; there was something so special about being in such an intimate setting with Colin.
“Are you complaining?” she asked as they walked out into the late afternoon day with the snow falling around them.
“Maybe a bit,” he responded. “Perhaps I am jealous.”
She swung up on Fineas’s bare back without a word and adjusted her skirt. Once he had mounted they began the trek back to Kittle Manor. The entire ride executed with the sounds of nature as the music surrounding them. She fortified her walls vowing not to capitulate again when it came to Colin and his wondrous touch.
Mentally berating herself for her stupid behavior, she had to turn her attention to anything other than what had just transpired between them. She took in the brilliance of the snow, the sound of Fineas’ hooves as each one broke through the thin icy crust on top. There existed an otherworldly peacefulness here. A look of pristine pureness that belied the numerous views of death and destruction she’d been privy too.
When will you allow yourself to be happy? If you could have anything, what would it be?
Colin’s words echoed in her head.
The bigger question. How come she’d never thought about it until encountering Colin? She could picture Father’s disapproving face and her heart sank. It mattered not what Colin said, she owed Father her life. But it was very nice to at least be asked what she wanted.
A powerful gust of wind bit at her face with fierce intent and she ducked her head to protect her face more. Some days she wondered if she would ever be warm again.
“Najja?”
She lifted her head and met his inquiring gaze. “Yes?”
Across his masculine features scamped a gamut of emotions. She maintained eye contact, allowing Fineas to pick his own way. What she expected Colin to divulge she had no clue, yet, whatever the words were, she longed to hear them.
His features no longer able to be made out with ease for their time together had progressed through the afternoon. The crepuscular light gave him a shadowed aura. A mysterious and dangerous air. Her stomach knotted and clenched at the memory of his touch.
“If you ever need anything…” he trailed off as if unsure of what to say to complete the sentence.
“Thank you.”
Those were the final words she spoke to him that day for they rode into view of Kittle Manor and she spent the remainder of the ride gathering her armor and preparing herself to remain solely focused on her job.
Jo and her father met them at the stable. Without speaking to Jo, Najja met Hayworth’s gaze and spoke to him in her native tongue.
“I humbly ask for your forgiveness of my actions.”
“We need to talk, Najja,” he replied.
“Of course, my lord.”
She swung down immediately and walked Fineas to his stall, her hand in his mane, since he had cleared the fence to get to her. A stable boy appeared to rub him down and give him something to eat. Content he was well cared for, she followed Lord Adrys without a word, or a look back at Colin.
The door to the study clicked behind her and she moved to stand before Hayworth’s desk, awaiting any punishment he deemed necessary. Hands clasped before her and head bowed she never stirred, even when the door opening behind her sounded like a faint whisper.
“Not now, Jo,” Adrys said, seating himself against the edge of his desk.
“But Papa.”
“Josephine Marguerite Adrys, leave,” he ordered in a firm tone.
A few moments later the sound reached her again and she knew they were alone. The silence carried on until Adrys cleared his throat.
“Want to tell me what that was about?” His voice again the epitome of calm.
“I failed you,” she said simply, offering up no excuse. For there was none, she had no explanation other than she abandoned her post.
“Najja.”
She undid her cloak and draped it over the nearest chair. Her whip followed, her fingers absently caressed the deadly coils and smooth trio of links. The she bent and withdrew her sais, with a deft move she flipped them and offered them to him handles first.
“What are you doing?”
“Handing over my weapons while you decide what a fitting punishment is.”
“What?!” She looked up at him and noticed the mix of concern and astonishment in his expression. “Punishment?”
“Yes, my lord. I offer my weapons and will not fight back whatever the punishment decided. My life is in your hands.” She offered the sais again.
The door opened and Jo burst into the room. “You cannot lay a hand on her!”
Najja watched Jo position herself between her and her father. She’d never seen Jo so adamant. Lowering the sais so they didn’t accidently hurt Jo, Najja waited.
“Jo,” Lord Adrys began, “you--”
“No!” The young woman interrupted. “You have always told me, Najja is family. Like my sister. You never punished me and I will not let you do so to her. Punish me instead.” Jo’s voice quavered but she stood strong. “Mother!”
Najja felt tears sting her eyes. Never had anyone stood up for her in this capacity. No, not true. No one had
ever
defended her like this. And she didn’t know how to handle the surge of emotions that swarmed her. Lord Adrys crossed his arms and glanced between the two of them. She wanted to interrupt but wasn’t sure if that wouldn’t make it harder on Jo.
Hayworth held up a hand as Honoria burst into the room. “What is going on?” she demanded.
“Papa said something about punishing Najja.”
Honoria glared at her husband while Najja longed to disappear.
“You will
not
lay a hand on her,” Honoria informed them.
Lord Adrys ran his hand through his hair. “Can I at least speak? Najja put your sais away. Honoria and Jo, I am not punishing her. Jo, you should not have been eavesdropping. Now, leave us.”
Both women stared at her briefly before returning to the door. She barely had time to blink before Jo stood before her again. This time she wrapped her arms around her and gripped her tight.
“I am so sorry, Najja. I love you.” Another squeeze and a kiss on the cheek and Jo was gone.
Unsure of what just occurred, Najja merely sighed a few times before staring back at Lord Adrys.
“This was not your fault, Najja,” he said rising and skirting his desk to reclaim his chair.
“But it was. I left my post.”
He nodded and leaned back in the tall leather chair. “You did. It still is not your fault.”
She wanted to frown and argue but kept quiet instead. All senses screamed to try and discern where the danger lay.
Hayworth sighed and sat forward, resting his arms upon the flat surface of his desk. “There is no trap, Najja,” he said gently.
She stared at him.
“Look at you, expecting the worst. You want to believe me but your history will not allow for it. Sit down, Najja.”
She perched on the end of the chair and returned her sais to her boots, waiting.
Adrys’ blue eyes were kind and tender. “I have known you for more than ten years, Najja. I have watched you grow and become more and more proficient with your skills, all the while wishing I could rescue you from that lifestyle. And it breaks my heart to imagine you thinking me capable of raising a hand to you. If I thought for one second you would find your own happiness and not continue this life of servitude I would release you from protecting Jo.” A sad shake of his head. “But I know you and you would secure passage back to him immediately.”
There was no point in commenting for he spoke the truth. His words did give her pause for they were very similar to Colin’s. They must have spoken about her to one another. It took a moment but she realized she was so exhausted she couldn’t even sum up energy enough to be affronted. Still, life lessons had taught her never to let down her vigilance. And she trusted Lord Adrys…as much as she was able.
“You are tired, Najja. I know this. Not only have you been there for Jo but also myself and Honoria. So, I will let you go, but Najja, come to me if you need time to yourself. We can work with that. If you are overstressed you may miss--”
“Stress or not, I will not lower my guard,” she interrupted, fighting the urge to jump up and demand he recognize her talents.
“I know, Najja and my family is very lucky to have you with us. I just do not want you to burn out.”
She already had. Hers was a hard life. She gave herself a mental shake, no time to dwell on that fact.
“This will not be an issue ever again,” she vowed, forcing her hands to remain relaxed.
Hayworth got up and strode to stand before her. He cupped her face with his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Keep yourself safe,” he murmured in her native tongue before he released her and left the room.
In shock, she reached with slow and nigh hesitant movements to touch the place he had kissed her. A paternal gesture. One unknown to her until this moment. Given to her by a man she had long admired for the way he cared about his family. He had done to her what she’d witnessed between him and his own flesh and blood daughter numerous times.
More of those traitorous tears made their presence known. She ignored them and stood. A deep inhalation before she swiftly reassembled her whip and cloak.
No more weakness. No more fanciful thoughts or dreams. There was a job to do and she had never failed Father.
Not about to start, either.
That in mind she glided to the door and left, all emotion wiped form her face. Any and all weakness was secured behind their walls, leaving nothing but the woman who had but one thing to do. Keep Jo and her family safe. And alive.
Colin rubbed his palm over his face wishing the simple act would wipe away his exhaustion. Seven entire days had gone by. In fact today was Christmas and he had thought about holing up and drinking the day away. Awake or asleep, his thoughts were consumed by memories of Najja. Her dulcet accented voice. Her amazing compilation of scents, spiced roses and vanilla.
“You look glum,” Trystan’s voice snapped him from his musings.
He grunted his hello as his friend made himself at home in a chair at the table. Then loaded a plate and began to eat.
“What do you want, Wilkes?” He glanced up and spotted Pug at the other end of the table, happily eating his food. Then he turned his attention to his best friend.
Trystan looked good. Really seemed to be okay settling back in as a viscount’s son. Gesturing with a fork, he said, “Came for a visit, you know what with it being Christmas and all.”