The Perfect Temptation Read online

  watching her, noting the easy smile on her face. It was

  serene and yet somehow bursting with life and energy.

  "Of course. She has appearances to maintain. If the selling

  somehow becomes public knowledge, she can always

  claim that she knew nothing of it and have the servants

  charged with theft."

  "A rather low tactic," he observed, leaning his shoulder

  against a shelf support and crossing his arms over his chest.

  Damn if she wasn't fascinating to watch. She didn't touch

  things, she caressed and cajoled them.

  "To the Rose Walker-Hineses of this world, appearances

  often matter more than loyalty,'" she explained, apparently

  unaware of his appraisal. “It’s a lesson Mohan is finding particularly

  difficult to understand. Pretensions are quite foreign

  to his native philosophies."

  He disagreed; so far Mohan had given him the impression

  of being quite wedded to pretenses. But he knew better than to

  share that view. Alex Radford tended to be a bit protective of

  her tyrannical charge. "Philosophies?" he repeated, deciding

  it might be a safer topic of conversation. "He has more than

  one?"

  She nodded and went on with her rearranging. "Hinduism

  is a complex and ever-so-flexible system of beliefs and practices.

  We maintain one steadfast religious prohibition in this

  household though and that's regarding the consumption of

  beef. If you find yourself yearning for it. you'll have to dine

  out. Other than that concession, my objective is to make Mohan's

  daily life as English as possible."

  "How does he like it?"

  "He's a typically tolerant child. With the typical Indian

  view of the world."

  "Enlighten me as to what that might be," he pressed, genuinely

  curious, genuinely liking-to his surprise-the sound

  of her voice.

  She pursed her lips for a moment as though concentrating

  and then smiled serenely. "In its simplest form ... The universe-

  and all that's in it-is in a constant state of change.

  What there is, is and there is nothing more at the moment.

  What comes, comes. What goes, goes. Within that acceptance,

  one can shape one's destiny for the next lifetime

  through the exercise of good thoughts, words, and deeds. The

  tasks, lessons, and challenges of this lifetime are set at birth,

  determined by the actions of the life lived before, and thus inescapable."

  "Sounds rather fatalistic to me," he confided.

  "Only on the surface."

  He drew a deep breath and stepped out on a limb. "Do

  you subscribe to that perspective?"

  She laughed. Softly, lightly. And like her whisper in the

  upstairs hall, it washed over him, igniting his senses. "I'm

  British," she said, mercifully not looking at him. "And like

  all Britons, I believe that I'm the complete master of my

  own destiny. My task as the royal tutor is to attempt to infuse

  some of that perspective into Mohan's Indian one."

  "Is he learning?"

  ''There are good days and bad days, Mr. Terrell."

  As with all things. If he only considered the last few minutes,

  he could call it a very good day, indeed. They seemed

  to have stumbled on a way to converse without outright conflict.

  "Do you suppose you could call me Aiden?" he asked,

  trying to strengthen the tenuous bridge. "When it's just the

  two of us, of course. 'Mr. Terrell' always makes me think my

  father's about somewhere and that possibility tends to make

  me a bit nervous these days."

  "I'll give the matter some thought," she replied. Her smile

  brightened by a degree and she slid a look his way. "I gather

  he--your father-disapproves of something you've done."

  ''There's an understatement," he answered. Unwilling to

  expand on the particulars, he indicated the room's rear window

  with a nod of his chin and changed the subject. "Is that

  the kitchen?"

  She looked up from her silver to gaze out the window.

  "Yes," she said, picking up a cloth and wiping her hands. Laying

  it aside, she turned and walked past him. saying, ''Come

  along and I'll introduce you to Preeya. She's our cook and

  housekeeper."

  There was only a few feet of hallway between the door of

  the silver room and the one that led out into the rear yard and

  the kitchen beyond. A brass coat tree sat in the comer, laden

  with various wraps, but she didn't pause to take one of them.

  She'd stepped outside when Aiden felt the compunction to be

  a gentleman. "Wouldn't you like a shawl or something?" he

  called after her. "Tell me which you'd prefer and I'll bring it

  along."

  She laughed again, precluding his need for a coat anytime

  soon. "It's only a short distance and it's really not all that

  cold. At least not by Himalayan standards."

  Expelling a hard breath to steady himself, Aiden left the

  wraps behind and hurried to catch up. "I've heard that the

  Himalayas are an especially beautiful part of India," he offered

  as he fell in beside her on the cleanly swept Walkway.

  "Is it true?"

  ''It's paradise. A bit closer to the English version of it in the

  warmer months, though. A good number of the British military commanders spend their summers in the region to escape

  the horrible temperatures of the south. Winters are rather

  snowy, of course. One has to expect that in high mountains."

  "Do you miss it?"

  Her smile faltered, and despite her effort to keep it in

  place, he could tell it was now forced and empty, of any real

  happiness. He'd inadvertently hit upon a topic that troubled

  her and he regretted it immensely. He liked the relaxed

  Alexandra Radford ever so much better than 'the wary, defensive

  one.

  "You're a man of a thousand questions, Mr. Terrell," she

  predictably replied as she stepped ahead of him and seized

  the kitchen door handle before he could. "Preeya," she called

  out as she entered. "I've brought someone to meet you."

  And that was the last he understood of anything she said.

  Alex Radford rattled on in what he presumed to be a flawless

  stream of Indian, gesturing to him and to a plumpish, short,

  gray-haired woman working at the stove. The woman-who

  wore a pair of flat, heavily embroidered fabric shoes and what

  looked like a dozen yards of draped cloth-abandoned her

  cooking to face him, put her hands together before her, bow

  slightly, and say something that sounded like "Namastay."

  He had no idea what it meant or even if he'd heard it right

  But returning the greeting seemed to be the polite thing to do

  and so he mimicked her. His reward was a huge smile from

  her and an approving nod from Alex Radford.

  And then they promptly ignored him. Preeya went back to

  stirring whatever was in her cook pot and Alex went on talking

  in Indian. No, he corrected himself, remembering a long ago

  school lesson. The most commonly spoken language in

  India wasn't called Indian. That would have been logical.

  Hindi? Yes, that was it. They c
alled it Hindi. Of course, for all

  he knew, she could have been speaking one of the less common

  ones. His personal knowledge of India was limited to

  having once seen a set of navigation charts for the Indian

  Ocean.

  And he knew just as little about Indian cuisine. One thing

  was certain, though, the scents were sharp and strong in

  Preeya's world. He couldn't identify any of those swirling

  around and seemingly through him. Well, maybe except for

  the hint of cinnamon and cloves he was catching every now

  and again. There were dried peppers hanging on a string

  over in the comer. He'd seen those in kitchens throughout

  the Leeward Islands. His mother had some in hers on St.

  Kitts. Under the peppers, on a table, was a basket of rice.

  Other than those few things, it was all quite foreign.

  It was also warm. Uncomfortably so. With the fire roaring

  in the hearth and the one in the stove, the condensate was

  streaming down the windowpanes. Aiden resisted the urge to

  loosen his stock and collar but couldn't help looking longingly

  at the door and wishing he were on the other side of it.

  At the edge of his vision he saw Preeya pat Alex Radford's

  arm and laugh. Alex rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  Preeya said something, grinned, and then waved a huge

  slotted spoon in a gesture that didn't need any translation. Get

  out of my kitchen was universally understood. Especially by

  males. He grinned, wondering how many times his mother's

  cook had ordered him out of her way. Thousands, probably.

  She barely gave him time to bow in farewell to Preeya before

  his hope was realized and be was back outside in the

  wonderfully cold, crisp air. And hurrying to catch up with

  her. Yet again. Something inside him rebelled at the notion

  of complying, of dutifully following along and letting her always

  set the course and the pace.

  The movement was quick and at the very edge of her

  vision. Alex whirled about, her heart racing, her hands instinctively

  positioned to fend off an attack. One part of her

  instantly relaxed at the sight of Aiden Terrell hanging,

  slightly swaying,from a lower limb-of the apple tree.

  Another part of her wasn't relaxed at all. Stretched out as

  be was, his hands wrapped over the top of the branch, his

  feet well off the snowy ground, his clothing was pulled taut

  over his body and revealed in great detail every one of his

  rippled, corded, and bulging muscles. Dear God in heaven.

  the man was marvelously sculpted. From his broad shoulders

  to his abdomen to his-

  Heat flooded her cheeks and she quickly lifted her gaze to

  his face. His grin was huge, sparkling brilliantly in his gorgeous

  green eyes. The effect, as always, was devastating. Her

  heart skittered and her pulse raced hotly through her veins.

  "Mr. Terrell?" she began, unable to keep from watching

  his display, desperate to get him to stop.

  "My father isn't here," he replied. arching his lower body

  to increase the speed and power of his swing. And the tautness

  of his clothes.

  "Aiden," she quickly allowed. watching him pump higher

  and faster. "I'm chilled to the bone. May we please go inside?"

  Chilled, my great-aunt Fanny, Aiden thought, grinning and

  shifting his hold on the branch. It wasn't cold coloring her

  cheeks. He knew a purely feminine response to unexpected

  infatuation when he saw one. He arched higher, pleased by the

  sound of her strangled gasp. No, the duchess wasn't cold at

  all. And she obviously wasn't made of stone, either. That was

  just a facade. One that, judging by her blush, had the potential

  to crumble rather quickly and nicely.

  His conscience prickled ever so slightly, but the rebellious

  spirit again surged forward, ruthlessly tamping it down,

  firmly telling him there was nothing wrong with a general appreciation

  of a woman's willingness to be seduced. Willing

  women were wonderful things.

  Deciding that he'd best leave those kinds of thoughts no

  further developed than they were, he selected a suitable

  landing place some distance out and arced backward to gain

  the momentum necessary to reach it. She actually squealed

  and covered her eyes as he released his hold on the branch

  and launched himself forward.

  He landed perfectly, laughing and looking back over his

  shoulder to see if she'd surrendered to curiosity. She had and

  a deeper flush swept over her cheeks as she realized he'd

  caught her at it.

  "So tell me about Preeya," he said jauntily, deliberately

  taking control of the conversation as he buttoned his jacket

  and moved to join her on the walk. "How did she end up here

  with you?"

  Alex swallowed down her heart and headed off for the rear

  of the house. "Preeya was the third wife of one of Mohan's father's

  uncles on his mother's side," she provided, hearing the .

  speed of the words but unable to do anything to slow the tide.

  ''When he died, she came under the raja's protection. It's all

  rather complicated and I'm not sure that I fully understand the

  set of social and family obligations that led to it Frankly, I

  think the obligation has more to do with his having lived with

  wrong in her earlier self-assurances. Her relationship with

  AidenTerrell wasn't the least bit like any of those she'd ever

  had with a subordinate. It couldn't be. Because Aiden Terrell

  wasn't like any other man-or person-she'd ever met. He

  wasn't abusive as her father had been. He wasn't royal and

  therefore infallible as was the raja. He wasn't regally self-absorbed

  as were the members of the royal family and court.

  And Lord knew that Aiden didn't have so much as one single

  subservient bone in his beautifully sculpted body.

  He was curious and bluntly spoken, sinfully handsome and

  intriguing. He could be breathtakingly, recklessly impulsive.

  Yet he was always clear-headed, always thinking. He honestly

  didn't care what anyone thought of him, didn't measure his

  words or actions or opinions in consideration of what others

  would think of him. And, under it all, he was a basically decent

  man who didn't particularly want to be a gentleman but

  simply couldn't keep himself from it

  And to think that she'd initially seen him as nothing more

  significant than Barrett Stanbridge's minion. She'd never been

  more wrong about anything. Aiden Terrell was most definitely

  his own man.

  There was one early perception that had proven to be

  spot-on, though. Aiden Terrell was indeed very much a tiger.

  He liked the hunt, liked the thrill of playing a good and spirited

  game. Which meant that, unless she was able to exercise

  extreme caution, she was very much in danger of being consumed.

  Because, Lord help her, she found everything about

  him incredibly attractive.

  Chapter 5

  Alex paused in the upstairs hall, gazing longingly at the

  closed door of her room. To lock herself away in silen
ce and

  shadows, to climb into her bed and take a long nap, would be

  heavenly. Unfortunately, that sort of indulgence wasn’t possible

  at the moment. There was duty to attend. It didn't matter

  that the very last thing she wanted was to have a confrontation

  with Mohan. It had to be done. He'd been a terror this morning,

  embarrassing her in front of both Emmaline and Aiden

  Terrell.

  That Aiden had been forced to step into the situation had

  been horrible. That he'd had to employ a threat of force to

  bring Mohan into compliance had been truly awful and his

  decision to do so was perfectly understandable. British children

  simply weren't allowed to run rough shod over others.

  Especially adults. Lord knew that she'd tried time and time

  again to explain that to Mohan. And, despite her obvIous and

  rather significant past failures, she was obligated to attempt

  it yet another time.

  Before what little resolve she possessed could desert her,

  Alex knocked on the door of Mohan's room. He didn't call

  for her to enter. Neither did he open the door. She knocked

  again, her temper rising. The response was the same as before

  and she abandoned good manners.

  He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, facing the doorway

  with his arms folded over his chest. Glaring at her, he

  said, "I did not grant you permission to enter."

  She ignored the rebuke. He wasn't a raja yet. "Do you recall