Chapter Six

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 the very reason that 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.

“Since they arrived in Africa.” His lashes couldn’t conceal the broodingly intense way he watched her. “Lord Adrys knows Father.”

“He knows your father?”

Had that not been what she said? “Yes.”

The play continued as did the questions. She answered with ease, now aware he sought answers about things in Africa.

“Did you clearly see the man who shot Lord Adrys?” he asked, putting all his attention on her.

“Men.”

He lifted a brow. “There was more than one?”

“At least two. I do not know the appearance of them since they wore masks, plus it was raining and dark.”

“How come Lady Adrys did not mention this?”

“She was pushed to the floor of the coach.” She took his queen. “As was Jo.”

“But you saw.”

“Why do you think I pushed them down? Unfortunately, I was to slow to do the same to Lord Adrys.”

“Remarkable.”

She studied the board. “What is, Mr. Faulkner?” There was no answer and she made a cursory peek at him. He stared unabashedly at her.

“Colin.”

She inhaled sharply.

“Call me Colin.”

“’Twould be improper.”

His eyes glittered dangerously and she realized he was a man who more often than not got what he wanted.

“So is being alone with me in a closed room,” he remarked wryly.

Their gazes melded, greenish-gray as tempestuous as the storm outside with dark brown, the color of rich chocolate.

“You are right.” She stood. “Thank you for the game, Mr. Faulkner.” Then she moved for the door.

He beat her there. His large hand landed over her head, pressing against the door, holding it shut. She stared at his arm. The white sleeve rolled up, exposing a powerful forearm covered with dark hair. His heat could be felt behind her.

“Look at me, Najja.” It was a rumbled order.

Slowly she turned and met his swirling gaze. “Yes, Mr. Faulkner?”

“Colin,” he breathed pressing closer.

It was a struggle not to react to the blatant sexuality that rolled off him. Her mouth was dry and her tongue dampened her lips. His eyes followed the movement, darkening further.

“Mr. Faulkner.”

“Colin,” he insisted again.

Her heart pounded out of control. The hand not on the door reached for the rawhide cord around her neck.

“What is this?”

“A necklace.”

He followed the cord until it dipped below her neckline without actually touching her and yet the heat never faded. A throb began between her legs and she longed to tighten them to see if that would stop it.

“Can I see it?”

Was it her imagination or had his head lowered even more?

“I need to go.”

A thick lock of hair fell forward over one amazing eyes. “Call me Colin or show me the necklace and I will let you go.” He came even closer. “One simple word or one touch, you make the choice.”

They weren’t touching? So much heat coursed through her she would swear he pressed against her. The hardness, the high temperature, she was losing it.

“Colin,” she murmured, making fists so she didn’t grab him.

He stared hard at her mouth. “You are a temptation unlike any other, Najja.” Colin swallowed harshly. “Leave, my luscious visitor, before I forget I should be a gentleman.” His eyes raked over her leaving no question what he meant. “Or how to be one.”

One final glimpse into eyes that seemed almost tortured, Najja did something she’d never done before. She fled.