The Perfect Temption

by Leslie LaFoy

  enough, I've never learned how to flutter my lashes, faint in

  a timely fashion, or dither helplessly over minor decisions.

  The world is full of women who are far more suitable for

  marriage than I am. There's no reason for a man to choose

  me over them."

  He disagreed but it wasn't in the interest of his more

  immediate hopes to share that with her. "Does the idea of

  being alone forever bother you?"

  "I'm never truly alone," she blithely countered. "Here in

  London I have Preeya and Mohan. Emmaline. You. And starting

  tomorrow, Sawyer as well. And in India . .. It's a very full

  and busy household."

  "That's not exactly what I meant," he grumbled, frustrated

  but unwilling to risk shocking her by more clearly stating the

  question.

  "Does the idea of never lying with a man bother me?"

  He blinked, stunned. ''That was ... "

  "Frank?" she supplied impishly. "Indians are much more

  open about such matters than the English are, Aiden. And

  the answer is sometimes yes, but most of the time no. And

  this is the point in our conversation where I refuse to say

  anything further."

  Everything he really wanted to know lay on the other side

  of "further," beyond the current limits of her trust. "Fair

  enough," he acceded. But only because he really didn't have

  any other choice.

  "Do you hope to someday marry?"

  "No," he replied, feeling oddly dispassionate about the

  assertion. Of course, he reminded himself, it was a decision

  he'd made quite some time ago and then put away from further

  consideration. It was done and it was final. There really

  wasn't any great emotion wrapped up in it anymore.

  ''That's truly a pity. You'd make a wonderful husband and

  father. You've done wonders with Mohan. He's become a

  completely different, much happier child."

  "I had my chance. And I destroyed it."

  She considered him in silence for a long moment and

  then nodded slowly. "I can see how you'd feel that way. My

  mother's marriage was a painful disaster in every sense. Like

  you, she thought that her chance for happiness was lost

  forever." A smile lifted the comers of her mouth ever so

  slightly. "Life and the raja proved her wrong."

  Aiden chuckled. "Is there a lesson in that for me?"

  "I hope so."

  ''To keep my eyes open for a raja? No, thank you."

  The smile ebbed away. ''The lesson, Aiden,"-she said gently,

  "is that sometimes what you least expect comes to you

  from where you least expect it, when you least expect it."

  It was a lovely sentiment, but she'd missed the point. "I

  don't want anything to come my way," he countered. "Expected

  or otherwise."

  "So deliberately living your life without hope is your

  penance for not being God?" she posed, het brow arched.

  "For not being able to lift up your hand and brush aside the

  salvo that killed the woman you loved?"

  "More or less," he agreed, disliking the way she'd put it

  and sensing something ominous closing in around him.

  "How very British of you:' she remarked somberly,

  openly studying him. "If you were an Indian, a Hindu,

  you'd view it completely differently. You acted in the belief

  that you were doing a good deed, a true and loving kindness

  for another human being whose soul was in pain. Your good

  intentions, however, were thwarted by the gods and the

  power of the universe through no fault of your own. To love

  and to lose was your fate. To rise above the failure and engage

  in further good deeds, to risk failing again, is your

  challenge."

  "But I'm not Indian or Hindu. I'm British to the core;' he

  pointed out, trying to tamp down his inexplicably rising irritation.

  "Blaming the outcome of something on fate is nothing

  more than an excuse for the lack of sufficient will. Fate

  is mine to shape as I desire."

  "So you didn't truly, in the heart of your heart, want to successfully

  run the blockade?" she asked gently. "You didn't

  strongly enough want your Mary Alice to live and become

  your wife?"

  He didn't like the way she'd framed that issue, either, but

  he supposed that it was the fundamental truth of how he

  looked at it all. "And there you have the foundations of an

  abiding guilt."

  She hummed softly, looked down at the kittens, petted

  one, and then looked back up at him to ask, "So now your

  great challenge in life is to be as alone and miserable as humanly

  possible?"

  Damn if she didn't have a way of making the most rationally

  arrived-at decisions seem downright featherbrained.

  And, he had to admit, there was the tiniest kernel of truth

  to the point she was making. Being with her, kissing her,

  definitely didn't fall in the category of human misery and he

  certainly wasn't the least bit interested in abandoning either

  pleasure. Accepting that reality, he willingly conceded, "Not

  all the time."

  Her smile bright and her eyes twinkling, she replied, "Well,

  that's a relatively healthy sign. Apparently you haven't given

  up the struggle altogether. Which might suggest-to an open

  mind-that you're not really fated to spend this lifetime wallowing

  in regret."

  He didn't like the culmination of her logic any more than

  he had the process of getting there. The promise he'd made

  was a solemn one, a noble, honorable sacrifice for his having

  failed. While he could still make the argument that it was

  well within the bounds of noble and honorable, he wasn't

  quite so sure anymore about the fundamental intelligence of

  it. Lord knew the qualities didn't necessarily go hand in

  glove. The world was full of honorable, noble fools. And he

  didn't particularly relish the notion of being one of them.

  Alex and her way of looking at the world ... He hadn't

  had a single second thought about his course until he'd met

  her. Not one. Not so much as a twinge of doubt. But, having

  spent less than a week with Alexandra Radford, his world

  was, if not turned fully upside down, then at the very least

  severely tilted on its axis. Had she done it to him deliberately?

  Or was it just the natural consequence of his having

  been immersed in her decidedly unique existence?

  "Which are you really, Alex?" he mused aloud. "Indian or

  British? Deep down inside."

  She gave him the slightest of shrugs and a cryptic smile.

  "I can see the strengths of each way."

  As usual, she hadn't really answered the question. Undaunted,

  he pressed in a more roundabout manner. "What's

  your fate in this lifetime?"

  "Today it's to educate Mohan so that he can better serve

  his people. What it will be tomorrow, I don't know. What

  comes, comes. I'll accept the challenge as best I can and try

  to do good whenever and however possible."

  What comes, comes. 'That would be very Hindu of you,"

  he observed, feeling smug for having maneuvered her into

 
revealing the truth.

  "It wouldn't be an approach frowned upon by Christians,

  either," she countered, her eyes still dark, still inviting him to

  search. "Or Buddhists."

  He had no idea about Buddhist beliefs; he'd have to take

  her word on it. What he did know, though, was that she had

  perfected avoidance and resistance to a fine art. That and she

  intrigued him in so many ways. Far more than was good for

  either of them at the moment.

  "I should let you get back to your reading," he suggested,

  reaching out to pet one of the sleeping kittens.

  Alex willed herself to keep breathing, willed herself still

  as his fingertips grazed the curve of her breast and a thrilling

  current of heat arced through her. If she confessed that the

  book wasn't nearly as interesting as he was ... If she invited

  him to stay ...

  "Good night, Alex."

  There was a solace of sorts in seeing the reluctance in his

  eyes as he eased out of the pillows. It was nice to know that

  she wasn't alone in regretting a commitment to good judgment

  and the dubious value of sterling virtue. "Good night,

  Aiden," she bade. "Sweetest of dreams."

  His smile was quirked as he winked and walked off into

  the shadows. Alex watched him go, feeling suddenly adrift

  and sadly incomplete.

  Chapter 11

  Three consecutive days in the saddle, Aiden silently grumbled

  as they made their way into the rear yard, would make

  one, if not weak, then at least acutely aware of discomfort.

  Especially if it had been well over a year since you'd last

  thought about saddles, stirrups, reins, and using certain muscles

  in your body. Thank God for long hot baths and whatever

  was in the tincture that Alex had been giving him before

  dinner every evening.

  There were two consolations in it all; the first being that

  Mohan was well on his way to becoming an excellent rider,

  the second that Alex was a delightful caretaker who winced

  every time he did and spent considerable effort seeing to his

  physical comfort. The only drawback was that he'd been too

  tired too soon in the evening to reap the larger rewards of her

  tender caretaking.

  Although, he reminded himself, there was something

  nicely domestic about having her gently wake him, help him

  up from the pillows, and send him off to his own bed. It

  would be even nicer if he ever had the presence of mind to

  ask her to come with him.

  "Perhaps we should put my horse back on the lead."

  Aiden looked over at the boy and cocked a brow. "Do you

  think we need to?"

  "I am quite comfortable without it," Mohan assured him.

  "It is Miss Alex's comfort which concerns me. She is not

  likely to be pleased to see the lead gone. She has a habit of

  worrying about me unnecessarily."

  That she did. And the last three days of riding in the parks

  of London had brought that home in a way he hadn't expected.

  "We won't tell her that we've taken it off."

  "And you do not think that she will be at a window,

  watching through the new iron covers for our return?"

  "If she is and if she protests, I'll assure her that you deserve

  the freedom and can manage it ably."

  "And you believe that she will accept Y9Uf word on this?"

  he posed, clearly skeptical.

  "Yes."

  Mohan snorted and countered, "Then you would be the

  very first man to have such an influence on her."

  "And just how would you know that?" Aiden asked as he

  reined in his mount and swung down. "You're only ten. You

  couldn't have seen too many men try to sway her on anything."

  "British officers come to see my father all the time," he

  retorted, climbing down as Aiden pulled open the doors of

  the stable. "They notice Miss Alex. And when Mrs. Radford

  was alive, she took Miss Alex to parties at their summer headquarters.

  Always one or two officers would come back after

  them. I have seen many men talking sweet to Miss Alex. She

  is always polite but unaffected by them. Eventually they go

  away and do not return."

  Which, when it came right down to it, was exactly what

  he was doing now, what he was going to do in the end. Aiden

  frowned, not liking that he was falling into the same pattern

  as the other men who had passed through Alex's life.

  "Fairness compels me to admit that you are different,"

  Mohan added as they led their mounts inside. "She does not

  keep the same distance with you. You may have a chance the

  others did not. So perhaps it is all right to leave the lead off

  my horse after all."

  As though it weren't far too late to put it back on. "Sometimes,"

  Aiden grumbled, "I think you're an old man in a

  child's body."

  "Perhaps I am."

  The movement was in the lengthening shadows outside

  the stable door, furtive and silent. Aiden pulled the revolver

  from the small of his back even as he whirled and stepped

  between it and Mohan.

  Hands instantly went up. "Kindly don't."

  Barrett. Aiden exhaled in relief and dropped the muzzle

  toward the floor, muttering, "Well, look what the cat

  dragged in."

  "The cat is out T Mohan asked, looking around quickly,

  clearly panicked at the possibility.

  "It's an expression," Aiden clarified as Barrett sauntered

  toward them. "It means that something unexpected has

  turned up rather unceremoniously." He nodded toward Barrett

  while tucking the gun back into the waistband of his

  trousers. "That would be, in this particular case, one Barrett

  Stanbridge."

  Mohan bowed but never took his eyes off Barrett. "Sir."

  "Since you appear to be hale, hearty, and reasonably

  happy," Barrett said, looking the boy up and down with a

  smile, "I'll assume that Mr. Terrell is doing his job to your

  satisfaction."

  "My satisfaction is of no consequence, sir. It is Miss Alex

  who passes judgment on the situation."

  Barrett cocked a brow and Aiden seized the moment to turn

  to Mohan and say, "Speaking of Alex ... Please go tell her

  and Preeya that we'll be having a guest for dinner. Mr. Stanbridge

  and I will take care of the horses before we come in."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And then stay in the house."

  Mohan nodded crisply and took off. Aiden waited until

  he'd disappeared before he turned to loosen the girth of the

  gelding's saddle and ask, "Where have you been, Barrett?"

  "In the country," his friend supplied, stepping up to Mohan's

  animal and beginning to work. "My father summoned

  me for the annual lecture on accepting my various obligations

  to the Stanbridge name. Quincy said you'd been by the

  office looking for me."

  "Four damn days ago," Aiden griped, pulling the saddle

  and blanket away. He flung the tack over the top rail of the

  open stall, adding, "And your secretary told me you were in

  Wales."

  "I never tell Quincy where I'm really going. If I did, he'd

>   send people like you trotting right after me. And he'd send a

  huge satchel of papers to be signed with you." He tossed the

  saddle over the railing. Mohan's horse strode into its stall on

  its own as Barrett asked, "What do you need?"

  "Nothing now," Aiden supplied, leading the gelding in.

  He removed the bit and bridle. "I solved the problem myself

  by hiring Sawyer. He's my second, keeping an eye on the

  flock when they split up from time to time. Nine to five

  every day. I trust you to pay him appropriately."

  "What was wrong with O'Brien?"

  Working a brush over the animal's back, Aiden shrugged.

  "I considered him and then decided against it. I wanted

  someone suitable for being inside the house. O'Brien isn't

  exactly the coat-and-stock variety."

  "True enough. Why do you need the second man? You're

  only guarding the boy."

  Aiden paused. How to put it all into words? He hadn't

  tried before this moment. Just knowing it was out there was

  enough for him. For Barrett, though ...

  He'd put two scoops of grain and an armload of hay into

  the stall feeder before he crossed to Barrett's side of the stable,

  leaned his arms on the top rail, and admitted, "Something

  isn't right about all of this, Barrett. I've spent days

  parading Mohan around London in plain sight. If someone's