The Perfect Temptation Read online

  the conversation we had-just last week-regarding the

  importance of creating positive first impressions?"

  "I do not like that man."

  "He doesn't much care for you either, Mohan," she countered.

  "And your decisions and actions are the reason you've

  gotten off on the wrong foot with each other. Therefore, it's

  your responsibility to undo the damage you've caused."

  He barely shrugged one shoulder. "I want him sent away."

  Alex clung to the shreds of her patience. "In the first

  place, that simply isn't possible. There's no one to replace

  him until your father's own guards arrive. You have no

  choice but to make the best of the present situation. Which, I

  must add, includes being polite, hospitable, and finding

  something approximating a friendly demeanor.

  "In the second place," she went on, ignoring his scowl and

  narrowing eyes. "Pushing one's difficulties off to where they

  can't be seen, doesn't eliminate them. They're still there, still

  requiring a solution or redress. Having them at a distance

  only complicates the task of making matters right. You have-however

  inadvertently-created a poor impression of India

  in the mind of Mr. Terrell. If you don't correct it, don't

  demonstrate that you come from a people of kindness and

  grace, he'll not only carry away a wrong view of India, but

  will pass that view on to others, compounding the misunderstanding.

  Surely, you don't want-"

  "I want to go home," he interrupted. "Now. Today."

  Of course he did. What child wouldn't want to be with

  his parents, his brothers and sisters, his aunts, uncles, and

  cousins? "I can understand that, Mohan," she offered sincerely.

  "I truly can. Hopefully soon your-"

  "I command you to make the necessary arrangements."

  "I will not," Alex rejoined, her sympathy for him withering

  under the increasing heat of her anger. Patience, she

  silently instructed herself. Patience.

  "England is full of dirty people."

  She took a deep breath and counted to five. "You've seen

  little of England outside of London," she calmly reminded

  him. 'Therefore, your statement is an opinion based on nothing

  more than ignorance. I'll further point out that dirty people are found all over the world and that India too has its

  allotted share."

  He snorted and tilted up his nose. "I never saw any in

  India."

  'That," she snapped, her toleration completely undone, "is

  because you lived in a royal palace and dirty people weren't

  allowed in. Is there a specific reason for your contrariness

  today, Mohan?"

  He sat up straight and lifted his nose another degree.

  "I am a prince. I am not required to explain or justify my

  actions."

  And she wasn't required to restrain Aiden Terrell, either.

  At the moment his approach to discipline had enormous appeal.

  'That sort of attitude is what leads to palace coups,

  Mohan," she pointed out, resolved to hold the higher ground.

  ''But since you're a considerable number of years away from

  that reality, let me provide you with a more immediate one.

  Your present behavior is unacceptable, making you truly unpleasant

  to be around. That being the case, you will take

  your midday meal in here, in solitude. Further, you will remain

  in here until such time as you think you're capable of

  conducting yourself in a civil manner."

  With that pronouncement, Alex turned and walked across

  the threshold. She was turning back to pull the door closed

  when he made one of his own.

  "I will not eat."

  "Suit yourself," she shot back, pausing with the doorknob

  in hand. "I'll remind you that it takes twenty-one days to

  starve a child and suggest that unless you plan to discover a

  font of self-control in the next few minutes, you'll be wasting

  not only the food, but also the infantile demonstration."

  "I hate you!" he screamed as she confined him. ''I hate

  England! And the queen!"

  Alex rested her forehead against the door frame and

  closed her eyes. He was only ten, she reminded herself. He

  was far from his home and his family, awash in a world so

  very, very different from his own. She knew exactly how he

  felt, remembered all too well how she'd felt when her

  mother and she had found refuge in the raja’s household.

  She'd been a bit older than Mohan when her world had

  been upended. But she'd adjusted and endured. With grace

  and hope. Unfortunately, those were the two qualities Mohan

  seemed to lack entirely. If only she knew how to impart

  them to him, how to instill in him the kind of vision and

  strength necessary to look past today to a distant, brighter

  tomorrow.

  Setting an example hadn't worked. Neither had very carefully

  and clearly explaining it. Attempting to go at it through

  the instruction of manners had produced no discernible

  change in him, either. But was locking him away the only

  course remaining? It felt like such an admission of failure. If

  she were a competent teacher, she wouldn't have to resort to

  such drastic, cold-hearted measures.

  Of course, she added, straightening and walking toward

  her own room, she hadn't yet been reduced to the use of

  corporal punishment. Alex slipped inside, pressed the door

  closed, and dropped into the soft cushions of a rattan sofa.

  No, to her credit, she hadn't turned matters of discipline

  over to Aiden Terrell. Or even suggested that they might

  share them. There was something to be said for that, wasn't

  there?

  Wasn't there?

  Alex blinked unseeingly into the farthest comer, stunned.

  She couldn't think of a single reason why she should be

  pleased by the prospect of continuing to bear the burden all

  by herself. She was bone weary from the effort to be mother,

  tutor, mentor, father, and friend. And she was beyond exhausted

  by the futility of her every effort on every front

  Would it be so horribly, unforgivably weak of her to surrender

  a small part of the responsibility? For just a little while?

  She didn't care what Aiden Terrell thought of her, she

  quickly assured herself. He was here, a reluctant part of their

  lives, for the next few weeks, a month at the most. As soon

  as Lal's replacement arrived, Aiden would be gone and she'd

  never see him again. What did it matter if he thought she was

  weak and ineffectual?

  It didn't matter at all. Except to her pride. Which left her

  with two clear choices; she could either swallow it or she

  could soldier on as she had for the last five years and as her

  mother had before her. Preeya's suggested course wasn't a

  realistic choice at all. Make Aiden Terrell her lover and husband?

  Mohan's surrogate father? Ha!

  With an aggravated sigh, Alex leaned her head back against

  the cushion and closed her eyes. Just a short nap, she promised

  herself. The world always looked kinder and brighter through

  freshened eyes.

  Aiden
sat in the wing chair-the one piece of English furniture

  in the entire shop and surveyed the rest of the contents

  of the front store. It was said that homes reflected the innermost

  nature of the owner. If that was true, what did the Blue

  Elephant Shop say about Alexandra Radford?

  There was absolutely nothing the least straightforward or

  simple about the place. There were so many things in it; carefully

  placed layers and layers of every kind of decorative

  merchandise imaginable. It was impossible to see it all at

  even a long glance. Each time you came back to a particular

  spot you saw something you'd missed the time before. On the

  table across the room, a little mirror, edged with an intricate

  silver filigree, had been hidden among a cascade of extravagantly

  embroidered reticules. Off to the right of that, amid a

  collection of teakwood chargers and gold-edged china plates,

  sat a brass candlestick with a fringe of semiprecious beads

  twinkling in the afternoon sunlight.

  Not a bit of it was pretentious and yet it all felt rather elegant

  and rich. None of it was arranged in any formal way,

  but there was no denying that there was a deliberate order to

  the chaos. There was a sense of frustration that came with

  considering it all, a sense that you were being denied something

  you desperately wanted and needed. And at the same

  time there was a thrill in that, an anticipation of a grand,

  thoroughly accidental discovery.

  The Blue Elephant, Aiden decided, was a study in contradictions.

  Not that that conclusion told him much about Miss

  Alexandra Radford. It was a store, a public presentation of

  herself and her wares. She didn't strike him as the sort of

  woman who would willingly lay bare her soul for any stranger

  coming in off the street.

  No, Alex Radford didn’t readily trust people. Not even

  those with whom she was allied. Was she wary because of

  her concerns for Mohan's safety? Or was it more deeply and

  broadly rooted than that? Aiden cocked a brow. Or was it

  that she simply didn't trust him? A wry smile lifted one corner

  of his mouth. Judging by the way her eyes had brightened

  and her cheeks had flushed out in the yard, it might be

  that she didn't even trust herself.

  His amusement evaporated. Whether or not Alex Radford

  was willing to be seduced was an evaluation he didn't need

  to make, much less ponder. What was worth considering,

  though, was her apparent distrust. He had a job to do, and if

  she didn't trust him, protecting Mohan would be all that

  much more difficult. He needed to find a way to prove himself

  worthy.

  Aiden frowned, irritated by both the burden being his to

  shoulder and the certainty that accomplishment wouldn't

  come easily. And Lord knew that his motivation to make the

  effort wasn't helped any by the fact that Mohan had given

  every indication so far of being a most unlikable child. He'd

  be willing to bet the necklace in Barrett's safe that Alex was

  upstairs desperately wanting to beat her head against a wall

  in frustration.

  The sound of someone tapping against glass brought his

  attention back to his immediate surroundings. Sawyer stood

  on the walkway, peering at him through the front window.

  Aiden pushed himself out of the chair and went to the door

  to let him in.

  ''Welcome to hell, Sawyer," he said as the Reeveses' butler

  stepped inside.

  "You seemed quite at home in it, sir," Sawyer observed as

  Aiden locked the door behind him. "Wouldn't Lady Lansdown

  adore spending a day in this establishment."

  Aiden, standing shoulder to shoulder with the man, looked

  over the displays again and shook his head. ''It doesn't look at

  all the way Sera decorates:' .

  "It is the breadth and arrangement of color of which she

  would most heartily approve, sir. She would most definitely

  appreciate the artistic spirit of your present employer."

  ''Alexandra Radford with an artistic spirit?" Aiden scoffed.

  "Sawyer, you have no idea how far off the mark you are on

  that. She's nothing at all like Seraphina. Miss Radford is very

  rigid and committed to propriety and maintaining distance."

  "If I might point out, sir," Sawyer countered, "those qualities

  do not preclude her from possessing an artistic nature."

  ''Then it's buried deep," Aiden grumbled.

  ''As still waters usually run, sir." He lifted the valise he

  clutched in his right hand. "I have brought your belongings

  as Mr. Stanbridge instructed. Where are they to be placed?"

  He could have offered to take care of it himself, but he really

  wanted Sawyer to see the outrageously decorated quarters.

  Shocking Sawyer was always the best entertainment.

  "Follow me," he said, leading the way to the stairs and up.

  Throwing the door wide, Aiden stepped back to let

  Sawyer have a full view. One gray brow twitched slightly.

  ''Well? What do you think of it?" Aiden prodded.

  "It would appear, sir, that when not formally engaged in

  your duties, you are expected to spend the hours ... "

  Ah, the man was struck speechless. Aiden grinned and

  pressed, "Doing what?"

  "Lolling about, I believe," Sawyer replied easily. ''In what

  seems to be, at first glance, considerable comfort and luxury."

  Aiden's smile withered in disappointment. He gestured

  toward the silk-covered pallet. "I haven't lain on the floor

  since ... Since ... Well, it's been at least twenty years."

  ''That would have made you six at the time, sir," he said,

  advancing into the room with the valise.

  God. Ever unflappable. ''Thank you, Sawyer."

  "If I may ask a question, sir?" the man inquired, bending

  down to open the lid of an ornately carved trunk that sat beneath

  the windows on the far waIl.

  "Go ahead," Aiden replied, sighing and propping his

  shoulder against the doorjamb.

  "Have you any general knowledge of the Indian culture?"

  ''Absolutely none. If you do, I'd appreciate the sharing

  of it."

  "Personally," Sawyer said, moving items from the valise

  to the trunk, "I've never been to the subcontinent, but in the

  course of my service in Her Majesty's Army, I e~countered

  several men who had been garrisoned there for a time. While

  they expressed some reservations concerning the overspicing

  of food, they appeared to be quite taken with other aspects of

  Indian life. In particular, they described in most favorable

  terms the natives' appreciation for earthly pleasures."

  "What kind of earthly pleasures?" Aiden asked, intrigued.

  "An abiding appreciation for food, drink, and ... ah ...

  comfort, sir."

  That was the thing with Sawyer. You had to listen carefully.

  The hesitations often had more meaning than the

  words. "Could you define 'comfort,' Sawyer?"

  "It would be sufficient, I think." he said, closing the lid

  and turning to face him. "to say that physical satisfaction on

  all levels is
considered an appropriate quest and the regular

  attainment of it a most desirable state of being."

  Well, Sawyer might have considered it sufficient, but he

  didn't. Physical satisfactions covered a very broad range of

  human activity. "That last part sounded a great deal like

  something the duchess would say," Aiden groused, knowing

  that when Sawyer declared a pronouncement sufficient it

  was pointless to ask for an expansion. As habits went, it was

  one of his more frustrating ones. .

  ''The duchess, sir?"

  "Miss Radford," Aiden supplied. "Trust me, it fits. And

  just in case you're wondering, her ward shows every sign of

  being the Spawn of Satan."

  Sawyer cleared his throat softly. "Be that as it may ... I

  gather that she's spent some considerable time in India.

  Those who have tend to develop a unique way of expressing

  themselves that clearly identifies their experience."

  "She's lived there all of her life:' Aiden supplied, coming

  off the jamb and moving into his room. "Except for the last

  three years here in London," he added, prodding the pallet

  with the toe of his booL

  "Then I would say, sir, that the general appointment of

  your room is a clear testament to the fullness of Miss Radford's

  understanding of the Indian approach to life. Were I

  so fortunate as to be in your shoes, Mr. Terrell, I do believe