What the Earl Desires (4 page)

“Yes, sir.” Tim vanished and Colin strode to the back, seemingly alone other than the snorting and stomping horses.

Najja was in the last stall on the left. He leaned against the half-door. She wore a dress, the same hue of blue she wore last night. It fit tight to her, showcasing a body he’d only dreamt she’d have. Her small waist he wanted to span with his hands. When she moved the fabric allowed him an amazing view of the curve of her ass. His thoughts immediately went to something carnal. He wanted to do things to her which polite society would deem uncivilized.

He didn’t care. Hell, right now he was imagining taking her in the stable, against a wall, upon the sweet smelling hay…

His shaft stiffened and he tore his hungry gaze from her to the equine beside her.

Holy hell the beast was magnificent. A coal black Arabian stallion.
Where did they get such an animal?

“Good morning, Mr. Faulkner.”

Her voice glided along his skin like crushed velvet. His hair stood on end and it felt like lightning coursed through him. And that was just with four simple words.

“Miss Najja,” he said, loving the way her name slipped off his tongue. “Good morning.”
Look at me.

She rubbed the stallion’s head beneath the shiny forelock and turned to stare at him. Her eyes roamed over him from top to bottom. He expected some kind of feminine approval; lowering of eyes, flushed skin, anything. What he got…nothing. Her hooded gaze remained remarkably impassive.

“He is a beautiful animal,” he commented, opting to keep to a safe subject.

Her entire countenance softened for a half second but it was enough to show him another layer. While all emotion faded away from her face, she continued to stroke the equine’s head.

“Yes, he is.” She murmured something to the animal and stepped to the door of the stall.

He inhaled sharply, her evocative scent filling him. After a pause he moved back and she exited the stall. Then she left without a single word. He leaned against the door and watched her. Grace yet strength embedded each step taken.

The urge to take a woman had not been so strong since he’d first left the Royal Navy and had fancied himself in love. He frowned at the bitter--unwanted--memory of Francesca. She’d left him for a man much higher up the status ladder. A titled man.

He cast a final glance at the horse. Damn thing seemed to stare down his nose at him. Colin headed back out into the deluge and saw another carriage arrive at the house. The doctor.

Good. She is taking up too much of my thoughts.
It never registered until he stood in the entrance hall dripping on the marble floors that it had been only Najja who he’d been thinking of.

Striding to his study, he paused and changed direction at the last minute and headed for the library. There were some books on Africa he wanted to peruse. Once in he noticed a fire already burned and the air smelled like…like…

Turning his head he found her. Curled up on a chaise by the window, a book in her hand. Najja.

Their gazes met and his heart pounded. What was it about this woman? There was no simpering, no fluttering of lashes. No coy looks. And yet…he was drawn with a ferocity he’d never experienced before.

“I beg your pardon,” she said closing the book and began to rise.

He didn’t want her to leave. “Stay.” She hesitated before lowering herself back down. “There is plenty of room in here for both of us.”
Especially if we
are on top of one another.

The gown she wore teased him with barely any hints of her flesh. Her fingers were long and graceful where they curled around the book. He faced a far shelf and fought to regain his out of control reaction to her. The titles didn’t register for all he could see was laying her back on the chaise, sliding his hands beneath her skirts and…

He shook his head and grabbed a book from the shelf. One deep breath and he turned. She had her attention on the book before her, but he believed her to be as aware of him as he her. Settling into a chair which allowed him a direct view of her, he opened the tome. Najja looked comfortable there. The gray rain-filled morning behind her in the window. The muted light didn’t cast a pallor over her; she seemed to add her own glow.

“Did you find something interesting to read?” he asked wanting her eyes on him.

Ever so slowly those large, beautiful eyes she had rose to his. Not in a flirtatious way, more like she loathed to stop reading.

“I did, thank you.” She dropped her gaze back to the page.

He scowled but allowed the silence. The pages before him made as much sense to him as had they been written in ancient Greek. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from straying to Najja.

Her lips were full and luscious. How would she taste? How would her breasts feel in his hands? He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. Her eyes were on him when he opened them.

“Are you alright, Mr. Faulkner?”

Colin! Damn it. I want my first name on your lips. And there is nothing wrong
with me that you could not fix, luv.

“Fine. What are you reading?”

She held it up and he was more than a little amazed to see her reading one of his naval history books. It wasn’t one he’d bet any other of the women he knew would read. They tended toward Byron, if they would read at all.

Travelling from the book to her gaze, he held it. Seconds passed and the air charged with heightening intimacy. She dampened her lips and he felt the hit right in his groin. His own book wobbled in his hands and he began to rise, needing to touch her when…

“Najja, there you are!” Jo came barreling into the rom.

There was no jump, no flush of embarrassment from Najja. But it were as if he watched a door close around her emotions for any remnants of what he saw--and knew to be desire--vanished.

“Miss Adrys,” he said, gaining his feet.

Her smile encompassed them both. “I hope I am not interrupting.” She made her way to Najja’s side and sat next to her all the while chattering in a language he didn’t understand.

“Not at all.” He forced himself to speak those words all the while his libido railed against him. Pinning Najja with his gaze, he allowed her to see his hunger for her. It didn’t intimidate her for she looked at him then focused on Jo.

Chapter Two

Najja willed her heart to stop pounding. This man, Mr. Faulkner, made her imagine things which she wasn’t destined to have. With his green eyes--eyes that changed like the sea, longer dark brown hair and an impressive figure in his trousers, he brought to her a new level of awareness. She didn’t like it. Well, not entirely true. She did but it would only be a dream.

She listened half heartedly to Jo rambling on. Her focus was on the tight way his trousers fit him, showing impressive muscles. His sun-kissed skin and firm lips.

Like he knew she watched him, he lifted his head, a thick lock of hair fell forward and she wanted to swipe it back. He cast a brief glance to her left where Jo sat and back to her. Then he winked.

Her stomach tensed and her breathing accelerated again.

“Yes, Najja?” Jo asked.

She faced her friend and responsibility, determinedly ignoring the slight mocking grin on Mr. Faulkner’s face. “What Jo?”

“I said there is a music room. Will you play the piano?”

“I am not the one who needs to practice,” she replied in her native tongue.

Blue eyes narrowed. “Are you in league with mama?” Jo demanded in the same language.

“No. But think how it would ease your mother to hear you play.”

Jo’s gaze remained skeptical.

“And your father loves to hear you play.”

With a quiet sigh, Jo nodded. “You are right. But perhaps later. Play a game of cards with me?”

With a quiet sigh, she closed the book knowing she’d not get any more reading done. “Of course.” She rose and returned the book to the exact spot she’d gotten it, well aware of the intense green eyes observing her.

“Oh!” Jo’s stunned voice spun her around, alert for any danger. “What a beautiful chess set, Mr. Faulkner.”

“Thank you.” A small pause. “Feel free to play if you so desire.”

Jo practically cooed in pleasure as she lifted each piece. “Come, Najja. Chess instead.”

Najja moved towards the board, distinctly aware of how she would have to pass near the handsome Mr. Faulkner. Jo’s back to them didn’t make it easier. His eyes flashed with challenge even while they burned away her clothes and saw her beneath them. He tipped his head back, maintaining eye contact as she stepped by him.

Seated at the inlaid table she noticed he continued to watch her. His eyes darkened with…well the only word she could come up with was possessiveness.
Stay focused.

And she did. She focused on Jo and the game and eventually relaxed. They played through the rest of the morning breaking for the midday meal. Mr. Faulkner was absent for both it and dinner. Lady Adrys didn’t seem to notice. She went back to her husband’s side as quickly as possible. Once Jo had gone to bed, Najja found herself heading back down to the library.

“Can I get you anything, miss?” the butler asked from the doorway.

“No, sir. Thank you. Just wished to read a bit more.”

“Very good, miss. Shall I bring more candles?”

“Oh, no, sir, the fire is more than adequate but thank you.”

“Good night then, miss.”

“Good night, sir.”

He backed out and closed the door behind him. Alone, she gazed around the library. She loved books. Hungered for the stories, adventures and lessons. Plucking the one from earlier off the shelf, she sank down on the thick Persian rug before the fire and flipped it open.

She didn’t know what alerted her but something told her to look up. She did so only to find she no longer solely inhabited the library. Her breath caught in her throat at the imposing visage of Mr. Faulkner. The firelight made him appear even larger--of course that could also be because she currently lay on the floor. Doubtful though.

His hair gleamed and his skin shone like burnished gold. A wave of longing hit her hard, her stomach tossed and turned. The door behind him sat closed. They were alone.

Moving her eyes over his decidedly well-muscled body she stared briefly at the gold hoop dangling from one earlobe. Was it possible for him to look any more attractive? He looked like a pirate prince, darkly savage and wild. Irresistible.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked, his voice pitched deeper than before.

Oddly she didn’t seem threatened by him. Not in a physical way. Despite the gruff, uncivilized appearance, she sensed something else. Gentleness.

“This is your house, sir. Am I disturbing you?”

“Far be it for me to keep a lady from perusing stories of naval history.”

Did he jest? He must have seen something in her expression for he added, “Apologies, Miss Najja. It was a poor attempt at humor.”

“Najja.”

He moved closer preceded by the scent of pure, raw male, whisky, and outdoors. “Say again?”

She rolled to a sitting position knowing his gaze honed in on her legs as they flashed for a moment. “My name is Najja.”

“You dislike the Miss before? What, pray tell, is your last name?”

Another step closer, he reminded her of a leopard hunting its prey. Slow cautious steps. Nothing to startle the creature being stalked. And she observed him the same way, like she was prey.

“I have none. My name is Najja.”

He lowered his long frame to the floor near her with surprising ease and grace. One arm rested upon his up drawn knee, bringing powerful legs into closer view. Sweat beaded and trickled through her chemise. What power did he wield over her?

“You are a mystery, Najja,” he said continuing to stare at her. “Play chess with me.”

She blinked. “Now?”

“Were you leaving so soon after I just arrived?” His question envisaged a challenge.

What was the harm? Jo slept in her room and surely no one would be out on a night like this. Although…she would be. Precisely for that very reason, the weather gave wonderful cover. But this was England. She fixed her gaze out the window where the rains still pelted down with inexorable force. Occasional flashes of lightning severed the dark.

“I had no plans to go anywhere.”

The satisfactory gleam that filled his eyes made her wonder if it
wasn’t
a trap after all. A thought that increased when he smiled briefly, a predatory one.

He got up and repositioned the table with the inlaid board closer to the fire, so they’d have light. She joined him and sat before assisting in setting up the pieces.

“How long have you played chess?” he asked making the opening move.

“Most years I can recall,” she replied, her fingers resting on a pawn.

“And how long have you known Lord Adrys and his family?”

Immediately she became cautious. Mulling over the right words, she stared at his long fingers as they made his next move.