Chapter One

1811 Western Africa

“I do not care, Josephine Adrys!” The shrill voice pierced the air with alarming precision. “We will be returning to Society soon and you cannot continue to carry on like this…such boorish behavior will not get you a husband. Get down from that tree this instant.”

High up in the thick mangrove two young women lounged on a gnarled branch. It was hot and humid; everything around them dripped with moisture. To some, it may appear dangerous, okay, to most it would. But these two relaxed quite comfortably up there, as if they belonged. The bright African sun struggled to penetrate the foliage of the rainforest and scattered bits of light across the young women. Screeching monkeys flew overhead on the vines which drooped. They hung, roots up and fronds down toward the floor of the forest, getting nourishment from somewhere above.

The females were different as night and day. The mulish and defiant spitfire, Josephine “Jo” Adrys, had a peaches and cream complexion, tanned by the sun and her many days outside. Numerous freckles lay scattered along the bridge of her nose, spanning to below her large, luminous blue eyes. Blue like the sky at the height of day when it’s at its most brilliant. Her hair a combination of browns, reds, and copper shone in the light.

Najja was a few years older than her and she was dark where Jo was light. Her skin the color of coffee with a splash of cream. Hair fell straight in waves of black silk. She had dark brown eyes that always seemed aware of everything around her. Her build was more muscular than Jo’s slighter one.

They were even dressed differently. Jo wore a light green dress of sprigged muslin to help combat the oppressive heat while Najja wore breeches and a sleeveless shirt, better for her job of keeping the young woman safe. It didn’t matter what one wore in this heat, everything sweated.

“I love it here!” Jo wailed. “The only reason to return is Mother is ready to pawn me off on some man.”

Najja almost smiled at the theatrical statement but the torment in Jo’s voice kept it contained. “You English sure are strange with your habits.”

Jo scowled. “I will thank you not to remind me. I could not possibly survive being married to some ancient, crotchety old man who wants to breed me.” She shuddered in disgust while her mother, Lady Adrys hollered up again.

One eyebrow rose. “Breed you? Your mother would faint if she heard you talk in such a way.”

An impish twinkle replaced the sadness and frustration there moments before. “Do you think so?”

The question was so hopeful she couldn’t help but laugh. “I have no doubt.” Lady Honoria Adrys was prone to theatrics. Ones which probably suited a drawing room in England far better than an African rainforest.

“Josephine Marguerite Adrys!”

They both winced at that.

“You should go,” Najja said.

“What about you?”

“I will ensure you both arrive safely then I must return to camp.”

Jo stood and hugged her. With a smile she returned the affection. Jo was a true friend. “See you later,” Jo whispered before scampering down the tree.

Jo’s mother’s horrified gasp made her chuckle. Najja was grateful she remained above ground and out of sight well aware how Lady Adrys would react to her attire. While Jo, her mother, and the servants who’d accompanied her maneuvered along the path, Najja kept her upward position.

As mother and daughter headed to the large home they had built for themselves, she remained on the outskirts until they vanished inside. She shook her head, the need for such opulence continued to be a mystery to her. Not that she didn’t appreciate sleeping there, but Lady Adrys seemed intent on bringing as much English society to the rainforest as she could.

Her beloved rainforest. Dangerous. Alluring. Unlike any place on earth. She’d traveled much in her life, to India, The Orient, and beyond. Sometimes with the men her father sent and sometimes alone.

She shook herself from her thoughts and hurried back to her Father’s camp. Never her home, no, the rainforest was her home. Father’s camp was just that. His. It bordered the rainforest and she opted to spend most of her time there, unless she was riding her horse.

All joviality she’d felt spending time with Jo had been wiped clear, her expression composed. With her friend she could enjoy being a person, her own and not the one Father had created her to be. Two very different sides to the same coin. She strode through the encampment headed straight for the largest tent and slipped inside. Three steps into the open area and she paused in wait. Head down, hands clasped loosely before her, she closed her eyes and breathed deep.

“You are late.” The voice was deep and graveled, full of the power he held.

“Apologies Father. Miss Jo had no desire to go home since they are to return to England soon.”

“I know.” He spoke their language, not English.

She knew he knew. He knew everything. There was no reason to argue so she stayed quiet and waited for him to continue.

“Look at me, Najja,” he said, his tone a bit odd.

She lifted her head and stared at her sire. He somehow seemed weaker. Not a lot but there were lines around his black eyes she didn’t recall seeing before. His dark skin stretched tight over taut muscles, riddled with scars. He cast his gaze about as if ensuring their privacy. She knew they were alone but his checking yet another testament to his advancing age.

“Come closer.”

She did as he bade, chin up and eyes focused on his. Instinctively she waited for an attack, all the while maintaining her composed façade. It was a struggle, knowing an assault could happen any moment and she was forbidden to retaliate in any way.

He licked his lips and ran a hand over his bald head. “You know of the attempts on the family?”

“Yes.”

“Lord Adrys wants protection for his daughter.”

A sinking feeling began to rise within her. Jo’s father was Viscount Adrys. “I see. Back in England, I suppose.”

“You will go with them.”

Of course. For the first time in a long time panic filled her chest and threatened to consume her. Swallowing back the bile, she dipped her head in silent acceptance of his order.

“No questions?”

Bitterness hung on the cusp of her tongue, warning to spill over. “No questions. I know what is required of me.”

Something which looked akin to painful regret flashed across his face. Before she could think about it, like a bolt of lightning, it vanished.

“I will take you there tomorrow. You will remain with them until the time to depart.”

Another tip of her head and she spun around leaving without a word. Across the camp she could feel gazes upon her. She altered her gaze neither left nor right, just stared straight ahead. She had a single area set up at the edge of camp and released a sigh as the cloth fell in place blocking out any and all potential stares. There wasn’t much for her to pack and it was soon finished. A single roll which contained everything she carried, her weapons safely inside it and a change of attire. The early evening settled around as she scampered along the thick branches of the trees with the ease of a leopard.

She put herself through her workout ensuring she remained sharp and quick. Exhausted she sat down along a river and waited. Night came, the area changed, and she made her way back with the undercurrent of danger pacing her every step of the way.

Sleep evaded her, making work to grab it. Regardless, she was ready the following morning when Father came to retrieve her. He stared at her then turned and walked off. She followed, her items in hand. They didn’t speak as they headed toward the Adrys’, even though his presence was a shock. Normally she travelled with a few of his warriors to the ship if she were going alone.

A sliver of warning skated up her spine. Without a word, she allowed the forest to swallow her up where she swiftly made her way to the branches she usually used to traverse back and forth. Then she began to run along the branches to get there quicker. She didn’t look down to see if Father was keeping up. All her attention focused on what had caused the unease.

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.