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  her authority as his employer, she said, "I wish to be

  absolutely clear on one point at the very outset, Mr. Terrell.

  While in Mr. Stanbridge's office you referred to my situation

  as desperate. It's not. It's merely vulnerable. There's a significant

  difference between the two."

  One tawny brow slowly rose to disappear under the hair

  tumbling over his forehead. A wry smile lifted one comer of

  his mouth and dimpled a handsomely chiseled cheek. ''The

  difference, Miss Radford," he countered dryly, "between vulnerable

  and desperate is generally about a half-second.

  Which is roughly the time it takes for someone to pull a

  trigger."

  "No one from India is going to use a firearm," she replied,

  struggling to contain her irritation. ''A blade of one sort or

  another would be the weapon of choice. It's tradition."

  ''And does that bit of reality make you feel better?"

  "I have been trained in the defensive arts," she supplied,

  meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

  "Are you proficient enough that you could turn an attacker's

  weapon against him?"

  It depended entirely on the skill and determination of the

  assailant. A small child or a cripple might have reason to

  think twice before launching an assault against her, but no

  one else would. Still, she wasn't prepared to share the truth

  with the likes of the tiger in the opposite seat. "I assure you,

  Mr. Terrell," she said evenly, "that I would be able to delay

  any attacker long enough to afford Mohan the chance to escape

  capture."

  He considered her as a smile tugged at the comer of his

  mouth. Finally, he asked, "Would he take it or would he stay

  to help you?"

  The man had all the persistence of a rat terrier. And none

  of the charm. "Mohan has been instructed to run away under

  such circumstances."

  "You didn't answer the question," he observed with a

  slight shake of his head. "You have a habit of doing that, you

  know." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

  His gaze boring into her own, he firmly asked, "Is Mohan

  the type of child who thinks of himself before others?"

  She had no idea why he considered the matter to be worth

  such dogged pursuit, but since she also couldn't see any danger

  in honesty, she answered, "I suspect that in a threatening

  situation, Mohan would act foolishly and try to protect me."

  ''There's something to be said for gallantry and bravery,"

  he countered, settling back into the seat again. "Too many

  young people today think only of themselves."

  "Mohan can't afford the luxury of such lofty ideals,"

  Alex felt compelled to point out. "He's to be the raja one

  day. His survival is far more important than being well considered

  by others."

  'What good is a raja who's a coward?" he scoffed. "Who

  would willingly follow him? Assuming, of course, that be

  even possesses the strength required to lead."

  And what did Aiden Terrell know of the qualities of leadership?

  He was nothing more than an underling to be hired

  out to anyone who would pay. "Mohan will someday make a

  very competent and courageous leader."

  The brow inched up again. "Will he be a wise one, as

  well?"

  "It's my responsibility to see that he has the knowledge

  and experience necessary to exercise his power for the betterment

  of his people."

  He sighed, compressed his lips, and contemplated the tops

  of his boots. after a long moment, he lifted his gaze to meet

  hers. "Is it a custom in India to avoid answering questions?"

  "I beg your pardon?" Alex asked, genuinely confused by

  his sudden change in conversational direction.

  "There," he said with a wave of his hand. "You just did it

  again. You have a very difficult time providing direct answers,

  Miss Radford. In the short span of our acquaintance,

  your willing responses have been of three types-half the

  truth, a truth unrelated to the inquiry, or an overt attempt to

  change the subject entirely. You aren't fully honest unless

  you're absolutely forced to be. Why is that?"

  Because it's how one survives in a royal Indian household,

  she silently answered. Pushing aside the jumble of memories

  and ignoring the odd and unfamiliar sense of melancholy

  welling inside her, Alex lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.

  "I don't see that my personal behaviors are any of your

  concern, Mr. Terrell," she declared in the voice she used to

  squelch dissension in the schoolroom. "You've been employed

  for the sole purpose of protecting Mohan. And while

  your duty and mine are temporarily the same, our association

  doesn't require the development of anything more substantive

  than a purely business relationship."

  He tilted his head to the side and smiled ever so softly.

  "'That rather lengthy answer went into the change - the subject

  cold. Why do you do that”

  This was not going well. Not well at all. She was feeling

  under siege and she didn't like it one bit. "You are a man with

  a most inappropriate sense of curiosity, Mr. Terrell," she declared,

  hoping to at least shame him into a more deferential

  manner.

  ''An unrelated truth." Again he leaned forward to close

  the distance between them, to more effectively pin her gaze

  with his. "Let's go back to where we were when you attempted

  to derail me. WIll Mohan be a wise leader?"

  Clearly, he wasn't going to abide by accepted social

  conventions. "It's too early to tell," she all but snapped.

  "He is, after all, only ten years old. His judgment is that of

  a child."

  He made no attempt to contain his smile. ''That was physically

  painful for you, wasn't it?"

  ''And the possibility of it pleases you greatly."

  ''A half-related truth." He sat back once more and pushed

  his hands into his coat pockets, adding, ''That makes a fourth

  way you can answer. I'm impressed."

  He had to be the most insufferable man in all of London.

  In all of England. Perhaps even the entire British empire. The

  possibility of enduring his questioning and derisive comments

  for the foreseeable future was more than she could

  bear. "Is there some particular reason why you have this apparent

  compulsion to needle me, Mr. Terrell?" she demanded,

  determined to resolve their contest one way or the other. "Do

  I remind you of someone you especially dislike?"

  "Well, you certainly don't appear to have any difficulty in

  asking a direct question."

  ''A related truth, Mr. Terrell," she shot back. "Perhaps

  even an attempt to change the subject. But not an answer."

  His smile was easy and broad, crinkling the corners of his

  eyes and sending a hard jolt into the center of her chest. "And

  you don't appear to like evasion any better than I do, Miss

  Radford. Shall we call a truce? Or shall we just continue to

  verbally fence until one of us actually succeeds in drawing

  blood?"

  A
truce? Dear God, no. Not under any circumstances. She

  needed to keep as much distance as possible between them;

  he had a way of undermining her concentration, of stirring

  feelings that she suspected might grow to be uncontrollable.

  "I don't much care for your manner, Mr. Terrell," she admitted.

  "You're disrespectful, sarcastic, and appear to be, at

  best, only marginally interested in the task to which you've

  been assigned."

  He snorted softly and his smile widened. "I've been assigned

  to the task for less than fifteen minutes. The majority

  of that time has been spent trying to pry straight answers out

  of you. And not altogether successfully, I might add. Which

  means that, to this point, anyway, you haven't earned my respect."

  His smile faded and his eyes darkened to the color of

  a storm-shadowed sea "As for sarcasm ... I don't like being

  treated like a boot-licking minion, Miss Radford."

  "Especially by women," she clarified, her pulse racing in

  the face of prodding his obvious anger.

  "Mostly by spinsters with an inflated sense of self-importance."

  There it was; the unvarnished truth of it. He'd accurately

  concluded that she wasn't the sort of woman who would

  ever wrap herself around his ankles and beg him to deliver

  her from evil. And since she didn't meet his standards of

  femininity, he wasn't obligated to meet the expectations of a

  modern Saint George. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd

  been declared insufficiently female, but that truth didn't dull

  the pain. In fact, inexplicably, the barb seemed to have gone

  deeper this time than ever before.

  Summoning every shred of her dignity, Alex found what

  she hoped passed as a serene smile and said, "It's apparent

  that we're not going to be able to work well together, Mr. Terrell.

  I think it would be best if we had the driver turn back."

  "As long as you understand," he countered, "that I'm the

  closest approximation to a gentleman that Barrett Stanbridge

  can assign to you. If you're looking for abject subservience,

  you're going to have to find another private investigator."

  Subservience would be perfect. It was the way men had

  usually treated her. It was one of the more positive benefits of

  being a royal tutor, the only British member of a royal Indian

  household. "Mr. Stanbridge himself will do quite nicely," she

  mused aloud. "He has a most appropriate demeanor."

  Terrell glared at her as another of his derisive smiles

  lifted one corner of his mouth. Alex drew a slow, deep breath

  and waited.

  "If Barrett were the least interested in being the one to

  stand between the little raja and harm, he would have stepped

  up to it and you and I would have ended our acquaintance at

  his office doorway. But since it's you and me sitting in this

  rented hack together ... "

  She'd been backed into a corner. Ruthlessly tamping down

  a swell of fear, Alex calmly announced, ''Then I will simply

  have to find another investigator."

  ''Where?'' he inquired, chuckling. "You've already interviewed

  all of the reputable ones in London."

  "Excuse me?" she asked, stunned that he somehow knew.

  He settled his broad shoulders into the corner of the carriage,

  stretched his long legs out, folded his arms over his

  chest, and grinned. The pit of Alex's stomach tightened even

  as her skin warmed and tingled.

  "You said that you put the injured guard on a boat for India

  three weeks ago," he began. "Given your determination

  to protect your ward, I'm obsessing that you haven't spent the

  last three weeks forgetting to hire a replacement guard. I

  think you've made the rounds and went to Emmaline for a

  recommendation only when the obvious, more -publicly

  known choices didn't meet your standards. Barrett is a very

  private investigator. You only know about him by personal

  reference. So, following the deductive logic to the end ...

  You have two options, Miss Radford. It's me or go it alone."

  He might actually do a decent job of protecting Mohan.

  His mind worked with surprising precision and clarity. Not

  that she was about to share that bit of appreciative insight

  with him. And not that she was willing to surrender control

  of any situation to him, either. ''What credentials and experience

  do you have, Mr. Terrell?"

  He laughed silently and she knew that he was thinking,

  Change of subject. Blessedly, though, he found some grace

  and didn't torment her. "Relatively few, actually. I was once

  ten years old and have younger brothers, so I do have a basic

  understanding of what goes through the minds of boys.

  Beyond that ... " He shrugged. "Barrett has decreed that I shall

  spend my life productively. I've discovered that, for the time

  being, it's easier to acquiesce than fight him on the matter."

  "Do you always take the easiest course?"

  "Rarely, actually. I'm reforming at the moment."

  Alex arched a brow, wondering just how much of an improvement

  she was seeing.

  "No, not happily and not by much," he supplied, apparently

  able to read her mind. "But since a child's life is in

  danger, I'll manage to trudge along."

  She understood the edgy resignation she heard in his

  voice; she'd spent all of her life trudging through one duty

  after another. Nevertheless ... "I don't find that attitude

  very reassuring, Mr. Terrell."

  His smile faded slowly and, as they had the last time

  she'd prodded him, his eyes darkened. "I'll do what I must to

  protect Mohan for as long as necessary. How you feel about

  me in the process really doesn't matter one whit."

  Why on earth that taunt bothered her-and bothered her

  deeply-she didn't know. It was, however, quite liberating if

  not completely honest to counter, "Which sums up perfectly

  my sentiments concerning your opinions of me, Mr. Terrell."

  "Good," he said, openly assessing her. 'We have an agreement.

  Our first." .

  "And quite likely our only one."

  "No. One more is absolutely essential. I'm responsible

  for the child's protection and I'll make decisions in that regard.

  You'll agree to respect them."

  "Only if I consider them wise ones, Mr. Terrell. I won't

  surrender my good judgment to you or anyone else."

  There was a long moment of silence during which the

  rented carriage slowed and drew out of traffic. As it eased to

  a stop in front of Emmaline's shop, Terrell leaned forward in

  the seat, took the door handle in hand and said, "I'm a fairly

  reasonable man. I'm willing to discuss whatever issues may

  arise, but only to a certain extent. When I m:aw the line, it:s

  drawn and I won't tolerate dissension or reSIstance from eIther

  you or Mohan." . .

  "How very imperial of you," Alex observed.

  He grinned, dimpling his cheek and sending another jolt

  into the center of her being. ''I can go toe to toe WIth the best.

  You've met your match, duchess." Then he winked, popped

/>   open the door, and vaulted out onto the snow-covered walk.

  Alex sat there, too stunned and angry to do more than

  blink. Duchess? And what precisely was that wink supposed

  to imply? That he was teasing? That he hadn't. intended for

  the barb to be as sharp as it was? He was standing there, his

  hand extended, obviously expecting her to accept his assistance

  out of the carriage.

  'When hell's as cold as London," she muttered, gathering

  her skirts and disembarking on her own. The snow crunched

  under her boots and pelted down onto her shoulders. She ignored

  it just as studiously as she did Terrell's cocked brow

  and frown.

  "JohnAiden!"

  Alex lifted her gaze toward the woman's voice, toward the

  doorway of Emmaline's millinery shop. Alex had never met

  the attractive brunette advancing toward them; she did, however

  recognize the maid toting boxes and coming in her

  wake. Alex met the servant's gaze and knew in an instant that

  there would be no public acknowledgment of their association.

  Which was as it should be. The woman's employer-:Mrs.

  Geoffrey Walker-Hines-would be mortified to have It

  known.

  "I had heard rumors that you were back in London!" the

  other cried, extending her hands to Terrell and smiling

  brightly. As he took them, she fluttered her lashes and cooed,