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The Perfect Temption

Page 28

by Leslie LaFoy


  "I was suckered into a rugby game this afternoon," he

  replied, lifting his hand, flexing his fingers, and wondering

  what was in the salve Alex had used. The pain was gone. Absolutely

  gone. "Against Blackthorn. Walker-Hines plays for

  them."

  "Oh, let me guess," Barrett replied drolly. "With his usual

  sorry lack of good judgment, he cuddled up next to Alex and

  made an indecent proposal."

  "If he'd actually touched her, your solicitor would be

  posting bond for me because I would have killed him."

  Mohan grinned. Barrett shook his head slightly, saying,

  "Damn shame he exercised a smidgen of good sense today."

  He brightened and his brow went back up. "So was Blackthorn

  finally defeated?"

  "Five to two."

  "Resoundingly. Good show, John Aiden," he congratulated,

  clapping him on his shoulder. "But I must say that

  you don't seem appropriately pleased by the day's successes.

  If I had to guess, I'd say that something's niggling at

  you."

  Aiden looked down at Mohan and smiled. "Preeya's off to

  market with 'Sawyer and I think Alex is in the kitchen seeing

  to the start of dinner. Would you please go see if she needs

  any help?"

  The boy sighed, pouted for a moment, and then nodded.

  He'd barely walked off toward the kitchen when Barrett

  said, "You think Alex is in the kitchen? You don't know?"

  Aiden ignored the bait and kept to his purpose. He

  rammed his hands into his pockets and squarely met his

  friend's gaze. "What do you know of India?"

  "Not much. Why?"

  "Let's walk toward your carriage while we talk," he suggested,

  turning even as he did, forestalling any objections

  Barrett might have. When he fell in beside him, Aiden began.

  "I keep collecting puzzle pieces and I don't know enough

  about India to know if the picture they're forming makes any

  real sense or not."

  "Apparently what you think you're seeing troubles you.

  Toss the pieces out on the table and we'll look at them together."

  "I don't even know where to begin:' he admitted.

  Barrett chuckled. "I seem to recall Alex Radford saying

  something in the same vein the morning she walked into my

  office. And as I further recall, you weren't the least interested

  in accommodating her confusion."

  Well, he'd been working at being an ass that morning. It

  was a testament to Alex's inherent sense of fairness that

  she'd allowed him to redeem himself. "I didn't understand

  then how complex her world is. Or how complicated she is.

  Even if I had forever and a day, I'd never fully know her,

  Barrett. Never. She'd always surprise me."

  "But you don't have forever and a day."

  A reminder, unusually subtle for Barrett, that Alex was a

  temporary relationship both professionally and privately.

  "Correct," he agreed, admonishing himself to keep to the

  public side of his intentions. "And if I'm right about the puzzle,

  Alex doesn't, either."

  "You're still gnawing at the notion that she's the one in

  danger, not the boy?"

  "She's the one who was almost kidnapped. She's the one

  being followed. I caught a glimpse of him this morning at

  the auction and again this afternoon. He's the same man who

  was at the window that morning. Alex didn't recognize him

  but she says that he's probably of the same caste as Mohan

  and his father."

  "And is that important?"

  "Hell, I don't know," Aiden confessed with a frustrated

  sigh. '''The subject of caste comes up frequently enough,

  though. Mostly in connection with what one can and can't

  do. I swear, they have more rules than we do."

  "For instance?"

  "You'd better fall in love with someone in your own caste

  because you're not going to be allowed to cross the line for

  them."

  Barrett nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, too.

  "I'd suggest that British expectations aren't all that much

  different except that my mother is now willing to consider a

  daughter-in-law from the untitled class if I'd just get on with

  seriously looking for one. Apparently they're more patient

  about the production of grandchildren in India."

  Aiden looked at him askance. "How is that relevant?"

  "It's really not," Barrett admitted with a weak smile. "Just

  my personal cross of the moment. Who fell in love with whom

  and couldn't be together?"

  Barrett and his questions. He was a lot like Mohan. Except

  considerably more dangerous. "It was merely an illustration,"

  he lied, honoring his promise to Alex. "I wasn't speaking

  about anyone in particular."

  Before Barrett could call him on it and press, he tossed

  out the next piece he'd collected since they'd last talked ..

  "Alex tells me that Kedar-that's Mohan's father-has two

  main rivals for the throne. His cousin and his younger

  brother. Both of them are presumably still in India and under

  his watchful eye. Now, according to Alex, neither one of them

  would have the slightest interest in seeing her come to any

  harm. They're more interested in removing Kedar from the

  throne and Mohan from the line of inheritance."

  "So why is someone following her?"

  "My question exactly," Aiden countered as they reached

  the parked carriage and stopped. "Mohan's whereabouts is

  no real secret. They don't have to follow Alex to find him.

  And that business about her marrying the raja someday...

  Alex assures me. that Mohan doesn't know what he's talking

  about. That it could never happen. They're of different castes."

  "Well," Barrett replied, frowning as he stared off into the

  distance, "so much for the possibility of someone wanting to

  keep her from producing half-English heirs to the royal

  throne. Which is rather disappointing, actually. I was favoring

  that theory."

  "It was the only one I had," Aiden groused. "Dammit,

  Barrett. I can feel it, I can smell, but I can't see it. What

  threat can she pose? To whom?"

  "Maybe she knows something she isn't supposed to know

  or saw something she wasn't supposed to see."

  ''Then you'd think she'd be aware of it," he countered, his

  chest tightening. "She insists that there's absolutely no reason

  anyone would want to harm her."

  "Maybe Preeya knows," Barrett ventured. "Have you

  asked her?"

  "I didn't figure out that Alex was actually the one in real

  danger until this morning. We've only been home a little

  while and Preeya's still off to market with Sawyer."

  "It's a little late in the day to be at the market, don't you

  think?"

  ''This household doesn't run on a clock. Not a British

  one, anyway. When she gets back, I'll ask. But honestly, Barrett,

  I don't think she knows anything. If she thought Alex

  might come to harm, she wouldn't keep quiet. She'd come to

  tell me why and who."

  "I don't know that it would do any good to ask Mohan.

  He's proven himself to be a
somewhat dubious source of information.

  Besides, how much could a ten-year-old know?"

  "I'll ask anyway. It can't hurt."

  They fell into silence, Barrett staring off into the city and

  he scowling at the toes of his boots and feeling a growing

  sense of unease. A question, unformed and unaskable, taunted

  him from the edge of his awareness, beyond his reach, beyond

  his frustrated grasp. If he focused, though, and stretched-

  "Alex's mother and the raja?" Barrett asked abruptly.

  His brows knitted, Aiden considered his friend in confusion.

  "Where the hell did that come from and what does it

  have to do with the price of tea in China?"

  ''The two who fell in love and couldn't be together," Barrett

  explained, still looking off. ''Were they Alex's mother and the

  raja?"

  Christ. Give the man just the tiniest little crumb and he

  could build the perfect cake from it. "I didn't tell you that."

  Barrett looked over at him and grinned. "You didn't have

  to. I can--every now and again-put two and two together

  and come up with a reasonable conclusion."

  "It's supposed to be a secret. I promised Alex that I'd

  keep it."

  "It's safe," he assured him.

  Which was far more than could be said about Alex, Aiden

  realized. "Well, I Wish you'd put that incredible deductive

  ability to work on my problem. It's been days. Why again today?"

  "I'm afraid I didn't follow that. Deductive genius only

  goes so far."

  Aiden sighed heavily as the unknown question flitted

  past his awareness again. "He was at the window of the

  Blue Elephant the day Alex was almost kidnapped," he

  said, crisply laying down the pieces that felt relevant. "And

  then he disappeared from sight. Why did he appear again

  today?"

  Closer, he thought. But still not the important, elusive

  question.

  "I assume that we're talking about the stranger?"

  Aiden nodded, staring off blindly, straining to see inward.

  "I call him the shadow warrior."

  "Has Alex been out of the house since that morning?

  Other than today, I mean."

  "No." Closer still, but not yet close enough. "But she

  wasn't out that morning, either, and he was there. Why was

  he there-twice-today?"

  "Good questions. I wish I could conjure the answers for

  you. The only way I can see to get them is to force them out

  of the Indian."

  "But he has to be caught first and he's quick," Aiden supplied.

  "You never get more than a second's glimpse of him

  before he's gone."

  "Even the best make a mistake eventually, John Aiden,"

  his friend assured him, clapping him on the shoulder. "When

  he does ... " Barrett opened his carriage door, called up to

  his driver with instructions to take him to his club, and then

  climbed inside.

  The door was closed and the driver had the reins in hand

  when the question danced close enough for its outlines to be

  faintly seen. It was sufficient. Aiden groaned at the simplicity

  of it and understood both the implications and the path it

  necessitated.

  "Barrett! Wait!" Gripping the edge of the open window,

  lie asked, "Can you come back here around two in the morning?"

  "If you need me to, yes. What do you have in mind?"

  He needed time to think the specific details through, but

  the central task was crystalline clear. "Leave the carriage at

  home," he instructed simply. "Wear your London hunting

  clothes and bring your gun. I'll explain it all then."

  "Two it is."

  Aiden stepped back and signaled the driver. Watching the

  carriage roll away, he couldn't help but think that he

  shouldn't have spent that year drinking himself into a blind

  stupor. Now that he needed and wanted to see clearly again,

  it was damn hard to do. And it took far too long. He was always

  two beats behind the music. So far, he'd been able to

  recover from the deficit quickly enough that no harm had

  come to either Alex or Mohan. And maybe, just maybe, and

  if he were truly lucky, by morning the general dullness of his

  brain wouldn't matter anymore.

  Where, exactly? he wondered, turning slowly to survey

  the buildings and alleyways around the Blue Elephant. He

  was there, watching; Aiden could feel it in his bones. It was

  part of his unease. But only a small part. The largest part of it

  came from the gut feeling that time was quickly running out.

  He moved to the edge of the yard, widening his visual

  search of the neighborhood. Somewhere ...

  A rented hack eased up to the curb just a few feet away,

  interrupting his quest. The door opened and Sawyer, market

  basket in hand, stepped out. He immediately turned back

  and offered his hand and Preeya gracefully joined him on

  the walk, accepting his arm. The hack rolled away and Aiden

  watched, fascinated as the two servants made their way toward

  him. Oblivious to his presence, he realized.

  "Sawyer," he said in greeting as they drew close enough

  that he didn't have to raise his voice. "Preeya."

  Sawyer actually started. Then, his composure back in

  place, he cleared his throat and affably said, "Good afternoon,

  sir," as he led Preeya past without so much as a hitch

  in his stride.

  Aiden pivoted, watching and grinning as a surprising

  possibility took shape. "Sawyer?" he called after the butler.

  "Are you ... wallowing?"

  Sawyer stopped in his tracks and turned back, a silvery

  brow raised. He seemed to consider and discard several responses

  before he smiled and replied, "Your shirt is misbuttoned,

  sir."

  Aiden looked down. What he could see looked just fine to

  him. There weren't any gaps, no holes missed. He reached up

  for the collar. His stomach rolled over as his heart slammed

  into the base of his throat. One side was a button higher than

  the other. And he'd stood there all that time, talking to Barrett,

  with it like that. He might as well have had a sign hanging

  around his neck proclaiming his guilt. Barrett had known.

  He would have had to. There was no way he couldn't. And the son of

  a bitch hadn't said a single damn word about it.

  The floodtide of embarrassing realization was abruptly

  stemmed when Preeya stepped closer and reached up toward

  the center of his chest. He looked down at her hand, acutely

  puzzled. Until he saw the long, raven-dark strand of hair she

  slowly, gently pulled from a buttonhole. When she had it

  free, she held it up between them, smiling at it, then handed

  it to him, her grin knowing and wide as she met his gaze.

  "Thank you, Preeya," he managed to choke out as he took

  it from her.

  "If you' have no objections, sir," Sawyer said, obviously

  fighting a smile, "Preeya and I will be dining privately in the

  kitchen this evening."

  As though he were in any sort of position to mention,

  much less lecture on, the value of propriety. "None at all.

  Enjoy."


  ''Thank you, sir." And with that, he presented his arm to

  Preeya again and guided her off toward their private world.

  Aiden watched them go, shaking his head, thinking that

  the kitchen seemed to be a place with considerable romantic

  influence. First Alex and him, and now apparently-

  He growled and closed his eyes. He'd pickled his brain

  in brandy. There was no other' explanation. Otherwise, he

  wouldn't have forgotten that he'd all but bluntly asked Alex

  to share his bed tonight And there was no waving Barrett off

  and postponing the hunt until tomorrow night. The threat was

  there and, he suspected, drawing closer. It had to be nipped

  before it bloomed into real harm.

  Two beats behind? he thought. More like six. He could

  only hope that Alex was not only the most ravishing, breathtaking

  woman he'd ever met, but also the most patient and

  understanding.

  Chapter 16

  All things in their time, Alex reminded herself as she brushed

  her hair. That dinner had been very late and that Sawyer had

  lingered with Preeya in the kitchen this evening couldn't

  have been helped. Just as Preeya couldn't have been hurried

 

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