The closer she got the stronger her unease. Upon the air there lingered the acrid stench of smoke. Then came the screams. She ran harder.
The house was aflame. Servants ran about in mass confusion. Immediately she saw Jo wasn’t in the group and she ran for the house. Najja broke through the window and choked almost immediately on the thick smoke. Calling upon her memory of the room’s layout, she made her way to the bed and felt for her friend. There. Dragging her unceremoniously back to the window she started lifting her out. A servant stood there and pulled Jo to safety.
Without a second’s hesitation, she took a deep breath and went back in to ensure the entire household had gotten out. The smoke and flames increased exponentially with the dry wood of the house and the morning breeze. A few hours later, she stood with Father and Lord Adrys by the smoldering and charred remains of the house. They left in silence and trekked down to the port. She could smell the smoke on her clothes but ignored it.
Jo and her mother waited surrounded by servants. Viscount Hayworth Adrys, was a man who still turned heads. His hair, mostly brown, was streaked with silver. His body in good shape, tanned from being outside so much. But where his expression was mostly composed, she could see the remaining fear from the fire. Her gaze moved from him to the waiting ship where Lady Adrys and Jo had just boarded and were probably headed to their rooms. Staring at the tallest mast, she fought a grin when she saw the crow’s nest and her own personal distress calmed. She also knew her own horse had been loaded.
“It is time.” Father spoke the obvious.
They were departing early. The ship had been readied only waiting for Adrys to finish. However, with the fire he’d abandoned his studies and agreed to leave earlier.
She nodded and walked after Lord Adrys. There was no hug, no tearful farewell. But she didn’t expect one. She had a purpose and it wasn’t to be an affectionate daughter. They cast off and she stood by the rail as the ship slowly picked up speed. She gazed back to watch as her beloved rainforest grew smaller and smaller, but Najja never looked back for Father.
Jo approached her, face alight with tears of joy. “I am so glad you are coming with us,” she said wrapping her up in a huge hug.
Najja smiled in return before stepping away.
“With you with me, England shall be most exciting. Imagine the fun we shall have.”
“I believe you will be getting ready for your Season.”
A scowl crossed Jo’s face. “I do not care to be matched up with a stuffy member of peerage.”
“Perhaps it will not be that way.”
She didn’t believe what she’d said and from Jo’s expression, neither did she.
“Excuse me, Jo, I need a word with Najja. In private,” Lord Adrys interrupted.
Jo harrumphed but left. She doted on her father and the feeling was mutual. He spoiled her rotten. As she watched the daughter of Viscount Adrys leave and head to her waiting mother, she wondered how it would have been to have such an interaction with her own.
No point in dwelling on that.
“Yes, my lord?” she asked, facing him only to catch another glimpse of her fading homeland.
He gave her a charming smile. “No need to be so formal. You are practically my daughter as well.” The words touched her in ways he couldn’t possibly fathom. “I know this was not easy for you. To give everything up and come with us.” She remained silent throughout his proclamation, not willing to tell him she had no say in the matter, it had been purely Father’s decision. He cleared his throat and continued, “I am not sure what you were told.” He waited and she took his silence as her time to speak.
“He told me to protect Miss Josephine until the trouble has been ascertained and dealt with.”
“I will keep you updated on information as I learn it.”
“Very well.”
He seemed a bit uncertain but she merely waited for him to figure out what he longed to say and how to voice it. Past him she watched her homeland vanish, swallowed up by the ocean. Her heart hurt and she didn’t understand. She’d been away numerous times before with training, lessons, and…. She shook her head, stopping the thoughts. Regardless, this time felt different. Almost like her heart believed she would not be returning to Africa’s beautiful shores.
“I do not want Jo to know; or Honoria for that matter,” Adrys said.
“I will not say a word on it. I will tell Jo I am…her companion?”
He nodded. “Perfect.” The strain on his face faded awarding her a glimpse of the handsome man he was. “Thank you, Najja. You kept my daughter safe all the years we lived here and your father tells me there is no one else he would trust to keep my daughter safe than you. I hope your stay with us in England will not be horrible.”
Words escaped her for a moment. She was more than a bit unsure on how to handle that bit of news. Pride from Father? Unheard of.
Regaining her wits quickly, she said, “Do not worry about me, my lord. You have enough to focus on.”
“Let me show you to your room. And stop with the ‘my lord’ bit.” He paused. “At least when it is family around. If you are to be her companion I suppose in public it would be best,” he said a bit distractedly.
She dipped her head in acknowledgement. With a final peek to the crow’s nest she followed him to find her room, small but clean.
“I will come get you for dinner.”
His announcement startled her. She had assumed to dine alone. “As you require,” she replied.
He gave her a kind smile and slipped away. With a sigh, she sat in the hammock and pushed it slightly. Barely a minute later, a knock came to the door before it opened, admitting Jo. Without asking she hurried and joined her in the hammock.
“Does your mother know you are here?”
Jo huffed. “She instructed me to nap. I guess I am supposed to be tired. I have no clue why, it is not like the rowing of the ship falls on my shoulders.”
Najja chuckled and stared at the ceiling as they swayed back and forth with the rhythm of the ship. She would make her way above deck come nightfall and look around.
One thing is certain,
she thought listening to Jo continue to prattle on,
it would not be a dull trip.
October 1811, England
“I am sorry…care to repeat that?” Colin Faulkner swallowed the rest of his whisky and glared at the man who stood before him quaking in his boots.
“I…I…so sorry, Mr. Faulkner. It…it was hijacked and the two with it were killed. Sliced up.”
He released a round of curses which caused the man before him to blanch even more. Mr. Pickner worked for him and had for years. To look at him one would be hard pressed to tell. His gnarled hands clutched the worn wool cap at waist level and abundant fear overflowed in his eyes.
“Damn it!” He slammed a hand down on the desk, the precise moment thunder rocked the house. Struggling to calm himself he said, “You should get home before this weather gets any worse. We do not want Mrs. Pickner to worry.”
Relief crossed the older man’s face and he gave a slight bow and headed out. Alone in his study, Colin stared at the flames which danced in the fireplace sending flicks of gold throughout the room.
He was livid. This was the third shipment of his to have been stolen right out from under him. He poured another shot of whisky and took the glass with him to stare out the large window. Somehow, someone was ahead of him every step of the way. And now they had moved up to murder. He had to see to the family and make sure they were provided for. It was his fault the men had been on that trip.
It wasn’t long before the sky ripped open and released its fury in torrents. Rain thrashed the window with savage intent. Lightning slashed the sky with deadly promise. He was glad to be indoors.
Slowly he sipped the drink and mulled over what to do with this increasing problem. He was the third son who had since he’d acquired these estates built up more money than his estranged father, the Earl of Clifton. More than most members of peerage actually.
He’d purchased a commission for the Royal Navy as soon as he’d been old enough and when he’d sold it he’d come here and run his estate, which his capable butler had been doing while he served. He didn’t deal much with social differences. He worked hard and spent time around men of the same mind. That was important to him, not how far back one could trace their ‘supposed’ blue blood. Regardless of all the money he had, it was his and he
despised
being stolen from. So he stood there and watched as the rain came down harder and attempted to devise a way to stop the hijacking.
“Sir! Sir!” A feminine voice called out from behind him.
Turning in confusion of the noise and intrusion, he frowned. It was Molly, a maid. She looked near panicked and he slowly released the heavy drape he held in one hand. “What is it?” he demanded with a scowl.
Her breathing came faster and he watched her flinch from his tone. Lord, what a mouse.
“There be guests, sir. Abel sent me to get ye.”
He frowned and ignored the increased uncertainty in her expression.
Who would be out on a night like this? It is crazy out there.
The thunder rolled as if to agree with him.
“Well, I cannot very well refuse them in this confounded weather. Make up some rooms,” he ordered, even though visitors were something he’d rather avoid.
Molly dipped a curtsey but didn’t leave.
He raised a brow.
“One of them’s been shot.”
That spurred him into action. He hurried to the door, leaving his drink on the desk as he went. Hastening to the entrance hall, he saw two women huddled together staring at a figure on the floor. Abel, his butler, seemed curiously rattled.
He noticed his housekeeper, Mrs. Hawkins, come up with towels for the women. There was another person bent over the pale man on the floor. He could see blood beginning to pool on his white floors.
“What is this?” He covered the remaining ground.
“Sir,” Abel said, seeming to compose himself. “Lord Adrys and his family were set upon by brigands.”
Viscount Hayworth Adrys. He knew the name. There had been some big talk about his returning after having been gone for about fifteen years. The man had been out of the country, mostly in Africa for those years and oddly enough had taken his family with him. He frowned, recalling only one child, a daughter. Although fifteen years would be more than enough for at least another child. Or a servant.
“Mrs. Hawkins, please see Lady Adrys and her daughter to rooms so they may dry off. We shall see to your husband, Lady Adrys.”
Two sets of blue eyes stared at him. He saw a mixture of fear and tears in them. Weak women didn’t sit well with him. The younger patted her mom’s hand and said, “You go on, Mama. I will stay with Papa.”
“You are soaked to the bone. You need to be dry.” Lady Adrys’ voice was taut with strain.
Ignoring the women, he crouched by the other soaked figure and frowned as a scent of something exotic teased his nose and stirred his loins. He was not attracted to men. “We need to get him to the morning room. See a fire is lit immediately,” he barked out the orders.
“What about Najja?”
He tore his gaze from the pasty pallor of the man to the daughter who paused at the foot of the stairs and issued the query.
“Who?” he asked as he ran the foreign name over in his mind.
“Go tend your mother,” a husky, sultry voice said from right beside him. “I will stay with your father until your return.”
His frown deepened. The voice was in no way belonged to a man. His shock increased when the girl followed her mother up the polished stairs pausing at the top to cast a glance back down. This woman gave orders, which they followed without question. Intriguing.
He touched her shoulder and stared at the gloved hand that held the bloodied cloth unflinchingly to the wound. In a second, he found himself staring into the face of a woman who, to be honest, he’d not been expecting to see. Her face was a stunning shade of brown, and her eyes were dark brown framed by doubly thick lashes. Was she a slave? The thought rankled, having worked some of his final years in the Royal Navy associated with the abolition of the slave trade.
She stared briefly at him before her attention returned to the man lying here. Colin gestured for them to move him; she stepped back and followed them. The moment Lord Adrys had been placed by the fire, she knelt back down.
“We got this,” he said. “You should change into something dry.” Another shudder went through him at the mental image of her naked body.
What is wrong with me?
She backed away and he took over, ripping open the shirt. Abel, his butler, and his valet, Berry, joined him. Berry had been a medic in the Navy with him. Well aware of his ability, Colin focused on the woman again and felt that stirring deep within. She stood silent dripping on the floor before the fire. Protectiveness rose in him.
“You need to get dried off.” He issued the order expecting to be obeyed.
She barely looked at him. Her gaze stayed transfixed on Lord Adrys’ face. He wasn’t used to being ignored. Muttering a curse, he focused back on the task at hand, a curse which didn’t go unnoticed by either Berry or Abel for he noticed their shared look.