The Perfect Temption Page 10

guidance," Aiden qualified.

  ''Miss Alex knows nothing of carriages," Mohan offered,

  a decidedly wary note shading the observation.

  Aiden opened the last window on his side. ''Then it's a

  good thing that I do, isn't it?"

  ''Does Miss Alex know this is what we are about?"

  And it was done. They were now fellow conspirators,

  united against the practicality and feminine fears of Alex Radford,

  Duchess and Mother Hen. He'd have to make sure it

  didn't go too far, of course; he was, the adult in this. But it was

  time for the boy to let loose of the apron strings and, one way

  or another, Alex needed to let him go. Aiden came out of the

  stall and leaned his shoulder against the upper rail. "She has

  some idea. In a general sense."

  ''Does she approve?" Mohan asked, climbing up to sit on

  the railing on his side of the stable.

  Aiden shrugged and smiled. "She'll eventually come

  around to seeing things my way."

  Mohan looked as if he wanted to be optimistic. "Miss

  Alex can be somewhat stubborn, you know."

  Somewhat? "I've noticed that."

  "My father says that until she learns to be less stubborn

  she will not make a good wife."

  "Then it's probably best that she hasn't married," Aiden

  offered diplomatically.

  "My father says that she would make a most acceptable

  mistress, though."

  Aiden chuckled. "I just can't imagine her being interested

  in such an arrangement, can you?"

  "My father is a raja," the boy countered in all seriousness.

  "People must obey his commands. Even Miss Alex. Even if

  she does not agree with him."

  Mohan thought the raja could command Alex Radford to

  be-his mistress? Obviously ~e boy had no realistic idea of

  how those sorts of relationships worked. A scrap of conversation

  fluttered from his memory and he smiled. "So tell me;

  has he ever commanded her to bow to him?"

  Mohan beamed. "He did Mrs. Radford, Miss Alex's

  mother. She explained the British customs and my father,

  being a wise and honorable man, decreed a solution. Miss

  Alex continues with the decision and lowers her chin to acknowledge

  my father's presence and authority."

  "How very accommodating of her," Aiden replied dryly,

  thinking that the raja, to his credit, had emerged from the

  battle with as much of his dignity as any man could have

  hoped to salvage.

  "There are some in the court who think Miss Alex is disrespectful

  and resent her presence."

  Aiden's amusement ebbed away. Mohan had offered the

  words blithely, but the look in his eyes was wary and assessing.

  'Then I'll bet they were happy to see her shipped

  to England for a while," he offered, testing the waters into

  which Mohan seemed to be drawing them.

  ''They will oppose her return. Strongly."

  "If you're trying to tell me something, Mohan, just come

  right out and say it."

  It took him a moment to choose his words. "Miss Alex

  fears that my father's enemies will come here to harm me. I

  think my father's friends will also come to London and that

  they will kill Miss Alex."

  His stomach slowly knotting, Aiden turned the information

  over in his mind. "Does she know about these people?

  Does she suspect that their opposition is that strong?"

  "If you have noticed that she is stubborn," Mohan countered,

  hopping down off the railing, ''you have also no doubt

  noticed that she is very intelligent and observant."

  That she was. And so, surprisingly, was Mohan. And in

  ways far beyond his years. "Do you think anyone's here already?"

  Aiden asked, willing to trust the boy's assessment.

  "My father's enemies, perhaps yes. My father's friends,

  not yet."

  ''They'll come when you're summoned back to India,"

  Aiden mused aloud. ''Until then, their larger interests are

  served in keeping her around."

  Mohan slowly smiled. "You are a very intelligent man,

  Mr. Terrell," he said, the buoyancy back in his voice. "I believe

  that I may be persuaded to think that it was wise of

  Miss Alex to hire you."

  "Persuaded?"

  "I would like a white stallion to ride about London."

  Aiden chuckled. "What you'd like and what you'll actually

  get are two very different things."

  Mohan studied him for a moment and then shrugged his

  shoulders. "One should at least try."

  “Fine. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Let's see if we

  can find some brooms and clean this place up a bit while we

  wait for Miss Radford to join us."

  He half expected Mohan to say that cleaning the stable

  was Preeya's work, and when he didn't and headed to the

  tack room instead, Aiden counted it as a sign of sure success.

  He let the boy go to explore on his own, knowing that Mohan

  would appreciate and do well with the freedom. Still

  leaning against the stall railing, he stared down at his dusty

  boots. How long would it be before the raja called his son

  and the royal tutor back to India? A week? A month? A year?

  Would the assassins arrive after the missive or would Alex

  be dead before she could receive it?

  Next week would be on his watch; he could protect her.

  Maybe he'd still be here even a month from now. But if the

  summons was issued after Lal's replacement arrived ...

  He'd just have to make sure, before he left, that the new

  guard understood that Alex needed to be protected every bit

  as much as Mohan did. Yes, that's what he'd do. It would be

  enough and he could go away without his conscience bothering

  him. But why the hell hadn't she said something to him?

  It was the most disconcerting ride she'd ever taken. Aiden

  Terrell sat opposite her either staring out the window or appraising

  her as if she were some sort of rare and exotic bug.

  She'd thought several times to politely inquire as to what

  was concerning him. but hadn't been able to find so much as

  a pause in the steady stream of commentary that had been

  pouring out of Mohan since the moment the rented carriage

  had started to roll.

  Lord only knew what had transpired in the stable before

  she arrived there, but clearly something rather momentous

  had. Mohan was more excited and happier than she'd ever

  seen him; leading her to think that whatever had happened

  was generally good. On the other hand, Aiden Terrell was

  quiet and decidedly pensive. She didn't know what to think

  of his behavior. It was so different from any she'd seen from

  him so far. Although, she admitted, as the carriage turned

  and slowed, there was a certain deliberate quality to his silence

  that seemed to be typical of him. As far as she could

  tell, nothing Aiden Terrell did was less than wholehearted.

  The carriage eased to a stop and Mohan bolted for the

  door, throwing it open and bounding out before she could

  catch him.

  "Mohan!" she called after him. "Slow down and be careful!"

  Aiden stepped out and turned ba
ck, offering his hand.

  Alex took it and allowed him to help her to the ground, her

  gaze narrowing past him and her stomach filling with dread.

  They had arrived at a snowy field filled with rows and rows

  of carriages of every sort. And Mohan was running headlong

  into their midst. The ground was so slippery underfoot.

  He was going to lose his footing in the snow, fall, and crack

  open his head.

  ''Let him run and climb," Aiden said softly, releasing her

  hand to offer his arm instead. "He isn't going to hurt anything."

  ''Other than himself," she protested as she accepted his

  assistance and her ward disappeared into the maze of wheels

  and big black boxes.

  "Boys not only bounce, they heal quickly. Besides, the

  only way he'll ever know his limits is to push them." He

  looked over his shoulder as he led her off toward the carriages.

  "Please wait for us, driver."

  ''And if he hurts himself in the process?" Alex pressed,

  trying and failing to catch a glimpse of Mohan.

  ''Then he'll have something interesting to talk about with

  other boys. Never underestimate the social value of a good

  scar. The grislier, the better."

  "Men are very strange creatures, Mr. Terrell."

  He chuckled and the arm under her hand relaxed a bit. "Do

  you have a preference for a carriage style? Mohan wants an

  open one so he can be admired as he careens through town."

  Careen? God help London if Mohan was ever truly given

  the reins. "I think a closed one would be much more practical

  from a number of standpoints."

  "What?" he teased. "You don't want to be admired as you

  ride about London?"

  "In the first· place," she countered, glad that his pensive

  mood had lifted, "only the most outrageous of the ladies are

  noticed or admired by anyone. I'm a shopkeeper and not

  worth anyone's attention. And in the second place, the fewer

  people who notice Mohan, the better."

  "Well, we could put a sack over his head and be done

  with it."

  "You're being ridiculous again."

  ''That would require a lead rope around his waist, though,"

  he continued, undaunted by her censure. "Otherwise, he's

  going to charge headlong into something and damage it And

  of course, sacked, he'd never be able to ride a horse or drive

  a carriage. Not that that would make you happy."

  "Mr. Terrell," she began. "I know that you think I'm-"

  "What is it going to take to get you to call me Aiden?"

  "A great deal more familiarity than is prudent."

  He drew her to a stop and turned to squarely face her. He

  cocked a brow and smiled, dimpling his cheek. "Prudence is

  highly overrated, Alex. "

  "I haven't given you permis-"

  "I know. I haven't asked for it either, have I?"

  The presumptuous man! ''Must you always inter-"

  "Yes. I've discovered it's the quickest and easiest way to

  end the resistance." His eyes twinkled. "Which is utterly futile,

  you know. You may as well give up the effort and enjoy

  the fact that someone else is taking the lead for a change. If

  it helps any, pretend that you're dancing."

  "I don't dance," she declared flatly, firmly.

  He blinked and rocked slightly back on his heels. "Why

  ever not?"

  "Because I don't like to be led. I tend to step on toes with

  great regularity."

  His smile quirked higher. "You just need a bit of practice

  and the right partner. It's all a matter of trust and conviction."

  The effort to hold her own against his relentless press was

  exhausting, but she was determined to try for as long as she

  possibly could. "I've always wondered," she countered,

  "why it's the man who is allowed to maneuver by conviction

  and the woman who is expected to follow on blind trust."

  There, she silently taunted. Explain that, Aiden Terrell.

  He laughed quietly, boldly meeting her gaze. "Because,

  generally speaking, we can see over your heads. That's a distinct

  advantage when trying to shepherd someone through a

  crowd of people, you know.

  "Since you don't dance," he went on, ignoring her quiet

  groan of frustration, "I assume Mohan hasn't been taught.

  We'll have to add dancing instruction to his activities. Not

  that he's going to be any more thrilled by the prospect than

  you are. Boys hate to dance. It's not until they're a bit older

  that they can appreciate the tactical aspects of it."

  ''Tactical?'' she repeated. Her mother's instruction on European

  dances hadn't included the slightest hint that there

  was anything more to it than proving oneself socially and

  physically graceful.

  "I'll show you later."

  "I think not," Alex countered, remembering the power

  he'd had over her in the doorway of her room. To actually

  step into his arms would be the greatest folly of her life.

  He laughed and his eyes sparkled as he gazed down at

  her. "Have you always been so headstrong?"

  "Mr. Terrell! Miss Alex!"

  They both looked toward the sound of Mohan's voice. He

  was some distance down the row, his stance suggesting that

  he'd slid to a halt. "Over here!" he called, pointing off to his

  left. "It is the perfect carriage! Come see!"

  Aiden Terrell offered his arm again. As Alex took it, he

  said, "You're not off the hook. We'll finish this conversation

  later."

  No they wouldn't, Alex silently vowed as she walked at his

  side. She wasn't going to give him the slightest opportunity to

  push her in a direction she didn't want to go, into concessions

  she didn't want to make. If there was one thing she'd learned

  about him in the hours since he'd moved into her life, it was

  that to give Aiden Terrell even the tiniest of openings was

  tantamount to surrendering.

  No, she was done trying to be amiable and accommodating.

  He could smile all he wanted. He could laugh and his

  eyes could twinkle and she wasn't going to let it affect her.

  He was an employee. A temporary one at that. It didn't matter

  how charming he could be or how pleasantly persistent.

  And, most importantly, it didn't matter that simply looking

  at him warmed her blood and stirred her desires. She

  could resist. She was strong. She was of independent mind,

  body, and spirit. No man was ever going to own her. Especially

  John Aiden Terrell. He was too handsome, too confident,

  too sure of his ability to seduce any woman he wanted.

  She wasn't going to be another of his Rose Walker-Hineses.

  It would be entirely too embarrassing to be casually bedded

  and then just as casually discarded.

  Thinking to steel her resolve, Alex stole a glance at him.

  He caught it and held it, his smile soft and somehow knowing,

  his brow cocked in silent amusement. Her mind said

  that she should be outraged by his manner. Her heart whispered

  that he was the most fascinating, magnificent man

  she'd ever met.

  It took every bit of her will to look away. But there was absolutely

&nb
sp; nothing she could do about silencing the thundering,

  traitorous beat of her heart. nothing she could do to squelch

  the certainty welling up and filling her soul.

  "Is it not beautiful, Miss Alex?"

  She blinked, startled back to the snowy field with a

  breathtaking jolt. Just ahead of her, Mohan sat in the box

  pretending to drive what had to be the biggest, brightest,

  most outrageously garish carriage ever built.

  "My, it's certainly ... " She hesitated, searching desperately

  for something even remotely kind to say about Mohan's

  choice. "Red," she finished lamely.

  "And with enough gilt," Aiden muttered, "to qualify as a

  rolling French-" He exhaled long and hard and then called

  up to Mohan, "I thought you said you wanted an open carriage."

  Mohan beamed down at them. "People will surely be able

  to see me in this one. Will they not?"

  "I don't know how they could possibly miss you," Alex

  answered, feeling slightly queasy. She turned her head and

  fastened her gaze on a nearby carriage-a sedate and conservative

  black brougham. "For God's sake," she said softly,