The Perfect Temptation

by Leslie LaFoy

"If it's not prying to ask," he said, carefully moving the

  chessboard from the pillow top to the floor. "Why was Kali

  unacceptable to the women?"

  "How to put this delicately ... "

  "Don't worry about battering my sensibilities," he hastened

  to assure her, grinning as he stretched out on his side,

  his head propped in his hand. ''They're not all that tender."

  "I assumed that. My concern is for my own," she laughingly

  countered, picking up her needlework again. Her vision

  suitably focused not on him, she explained, ''There's a

  general attitude in the women's quarters regarding their individual

  relationships with the raja. It's of the moment, What

  it is for that moment, and nothing more or less. There's no

  jealousy over who's called to his chambers for the night.

  "Kali, however, attempted to change all that. Her entire

  existence revolved around working to set us against each

  other and on restricting the raja's favor only to her."

  "In other words, she didn't share well."

  "She didn't want to share at all," Alex clarified, pushing

  the needle through the canvas and drawing the yarn into

  place. "Mohan doesn't quite understand the dynamics of

  what happened and I'd prefer not to enlighten him just yet,

  but the truth is that his father wasn't unhappy with the way

  we treated Kali. He was unhappy because of the way we

  treated him for bringing her into our midst The raja doesn't

  like to be treated coolly.”

  "Ah," Aiden said, his smile radiating through the sound.

  ''The coordinated action I warned Mohan about. I can almost

  feel sorry for the man."

  "Almost?"

  ''Almost:' he reiterated. "Any man who has more than his

  fair share of companions doesn't really merit too much pity

  for the complications that come along with it."

  She could feel his gaze on her, could sense the bright

  light of curiosity in his eyes. "No," she said softly. "I wasn't

  one of his companions."

  The edge of her vision lit up with his grin. "Well, since

  you broached the subject ... Why-"

  "Because I'm British," she supplied simply. Before he

  could ask another question and before she had to refuse to

  answer it, she rose from her chair and laid the needlework on

  the seat, saying, "I do believe it's time I retired, as well.

  Good night, Aiden. Pleasant dreams."

  He scrambled to his feet. "If you must, I certainly understand."

  His gaze was assessing as he met hers and added,

  "Good night, Alex. Sleep well."

  ''And the same wish for you, Aiden," she offered, her heart

  skittering as he searched her face. It took a substantial measure

  of her self-discipline to gracefully, calmly, move past

  him and out the door. It took every bit of the rest of it to keep

  from looking back over her shoulder in the unsettling hope

  that he'd come after her.

  Chapter 9

  Better, Alex reminded herself for the countless time, to rise before

  the peacocks and miss breakfast than to risk being caught

  in her nightgown again. She dug her hands into the straw, feeling

  for the mate to the candlestick she'd just removed. And it

  wasn't as though she'd been sleeping soundly anyway. The

  night just past was one of the most restless she could ever remember

  having. Twice she'd awakened, short of breath and

  her heart pounding, certain that she'd find Aiden Terrell lying

  beside her in reality. And instead of feeling relieved ...

  The sound of footfalls on the stairs quickened Alex's

  pulse and brought her attention up from the packing crate.

  She relaxed at the sight of Mohan and smiled.

  "Good morning, Miss Alex," he said, beaming as he

  bounded toward her. "Mr. Terrell asked me to tell you that he

  will be downstairs directly."

  "Thank you. Is there any particular reason why I need to

  be informed of that momentous event?"

  Mohan looked at her as if she had the mental acuity of a

  brick. "Your first riding lesson is this morning," he said with

  extreme patience.

  "Oh. I'd forgotten," she lied, resuming her search in the

  packing straw. "I'm really terribly busy, you know. I have to

  finish unpacking these crates and then, of course, there's the

  putting away and proper displaying of everything. Followed

  by the tidying up of the shop itself. I just don't see how I

  have time for a riding lesson, do you?"

  "Is it the horse of which you are afraid, Miss Alex? Or is

  it Mr. Terrell's instruction? I assure you that he is most competent."

  As though Mohan had anyone against whom to compare

  him. "I'm not afraid of anything," she assured him, finding

  and taking the candlestick from the crate. Turning to place it

  on the desk, she added, "I simply have work to do. And work

  must come before pleasure."

  "Why?"

  "Because if! don't work there won't be money with which

  to buy carriages and hor-" She instantly recognized the two

  men coming down the walk, heading for her door. "Mohan,

  go upstairs and stay there until I call for you. Go!"

  Thankfully he obeyed and she had just enough time to

  seize a single deep breath before they pushed open the door

  and sauntered in.

  "Top o' the mornin' to ya, mum," said the one called

  Rupert.

  She found a smile and dipped her chin in acknowledgment.

  "Gentlemen."

  The other one-Willie-stepped from behind Rupert.

  Openly surveying the shop, he said, "There's some business

  to be finished 'tween us."

  "Yes, there is, isn't there?" Alex managed to say pleasantly.

  "You disappeared before I returned the other day and

  could pay you for your services. The amount was four

  shillings, as I recall."

  Rupert shook his head. "We've decided eight would be

  more fittin'. Took a big chance for ya, we did."

  Yes, lolling about in front of a millinery shop was incredibly

  dangerous work. Alex bit her tongue and forced herself

  to smile. "Eight shillings it is, then~" she said, willing to pay

  whatever it took to get them out of her store. "Kindly wait

  where you are and I 'll return with your payment in just a

  moment."

  Hoping that they wouldn't pocket everything small enough

  to fit while she was gone, Alex gathered her skirts and retreated

  to the silver room. She'd barely stepped inside and

  scooped up her cash tin when she heard footsteps behind her.

  Her heart thudding, she spun toward the doorway. And found

  it blocked.

  "I distinctly recall," she said with all the calm she could

  muster, "having asked you gentlemen to wait in the front

  shop."

  Rupert looked around, his eyes narrowing. "Lots of

  pretty stuff in here, isn't there, Willie? Look at all this plate.

  Too awkward and heavy to be cartin' out of here all at once,

  though. But still ... It has to be worth a king's ransom, don't

  ya think?”

  "Aye," his companion agreed. He smiled thinly at her and

  wagged an eyebrow. "Or a chit's."


  She couldn't breathe, couldn't make her feet move,

  couldn't hear anything over the thunderous roar of her heartbeat

  As though from a great distance she saw herself hold

  out the tin, heard herself say, "Take the cash box and whatever

  plate you want and go."

  Willie's lips moved but she didn't hear the words. Hope

  Dickered when he reached for the tin with both hands. It was

  extinguished when he took the tin in one and clamped the

  other hard around her wrist instinctively, she pulled back,

  trying to break his hold, trying to twist away.

  Her flesh burned and the cry caught painfully in her

  throat as she was flung forward. Spinning and stumbling, her

  heels caught in her hems, she fell hard against the body of

  the second man. An iron band instantly slammed around her,

  high above her waist, driving the air from her lungs and

  another strangled cry past her lips. And then there was only the

  sensation of cold metal and deadly sharp pressed hard

  against her neck. Alex froze, holding what little breath she

  had remaining.

  "Scream and it'll be the last sound you ever make," Willie

  snarled in her ear as he hauled her toward the door.

  Alex dragged her feet, her every instinct telling her that

  if she let them get her out of the house, she'd never see it

  again. Never see Mohan. Preeya. Her knife was on the desk

  in the front shop. Beyond her reach, beyond usefulness.

  "Pick up your feet!" he commanded, tightening the band

  around her midsection and giving her no chance to comply

  on her own before lifting her clear of the floor and carrying

  her into the hall. Willie came on their heels, exhorting his

  partner to hurry.

  "Let go of her. Now."

  Aiden. At the entrance to the hall. A gun in his hand, held

  level and steady at arm's length. The sight of him, the sound

  of his voice, clear and strong ...

  "Let her go," he said with steely calm, "or I'll kill you."

  So tall, so lethal, so absolutely determined. It would be

  all right. Aiden was there. For her. Her knees weakening

  with relief, Alex sagged downward and then choked back a

  cry as the arm around her crushed the air from her lungs

  again and the blade pressed closer to her throat.

  "Close your eyes, Alex."

  She obeyed, trusting him, knowing that she should and

  could.

  There was the sudden jangle of metal-the change in the

  box she dully realized-and then there was only a soul pounding

  blast and a sudden, wrenching weight slamming

  against her legs, pulling at her skirts and hauling her down.

  The band tightened yet again and she stumbled, trying to

  keep herself upright as she was hauled backward. Her lungs

  were burning; she couldn't breathe. Scalding tears poured

  through her lashes. And her heart . .. Her heart was going to

  explode.

  'Throw the gun away, guv'ner, or I'll open her up. I swear

  I will."

  Alex winced at the voice, the threat, issued against her

  ear. Aiden kept his gaze steady along the length of the barrel,

  knowing that her best chance of survival lay in dropping

  the bastard where he stood. "If you so much as twitch," he

  warned, "I'll put a bullet in your brain."

  Squeezing a cry out of Alex, the man smiled. "You can't

  shoot me without hitting her."

  "Last chance." He slowly drew the hammer back until it

  clicked into place. "Let her go."

  The smile disappeared, replaced by a dark scowl, as, for a

  fleeting second, the man's gaze passed over Aiden's shoulder

  and into the front of the shop. Aiden strained to hear, but

  refused to be drawn, into looking, into surrendering what

  slim advantage he had. .

  "Reach behind you," Alex's captor growled into her ear,

  "and open the damn door."

  Aiden saw her force herself to swallow, watched as she

  carefully turned her head away from the pressure of the knife

  blade and stretched her right hand back to blindly search for

  the doorknob. Just a bit more, darling, he silently coached her.

  Just a fraction more. Give me a clean shot. One's all I need.

  He seized the opportunity in the same second that she

  gave him that precious space. The blast was deafening, the

  smoke acrid and thick. Through it he heard Alex scream,

  saw the man's head snap back, saw him stagger and the

  blade fall away from Alex's throat. His stomach churned, but

  he ignored it, knowing that he had to reach Alex before she

  either collapsed onto the body at her feet or fell back onto

  the one sliding down the wall behind her.

  The revolver still tight in his fist, he covered the space

  between them, catching her about the waist just as her knees

  gave out. "Gotcha," he rasped, hauling her hard against him.

  Her face buried against his shoulder, she sobbed his name

  and he pressed a quick kiss to her temple before he bent,

  swept her up into his arms, and carried her out of the hall.

  "Miss Alex!"

  The top of the stairs. A frightened Mohan. "She's all right,"

  Aiden assured the boy. "Stay up there! Do you hear me?"

  ''Yes, sir."

  One problem averted. Alex so close was the next one he

  needed to solve. His senses had been sharpened by the danger

  and were still too raw, too aware, to have Alex in" his

  arms. She felt too good, too inviting, and he didn't trust himself

  not to take advantage of her confusion. He glanced toward

  the chair in the front shop, thinking to take her there.

  He froze at the sight of a face peering in the front window.

  A pair of obsidian eyes in a burnished male face met his

  gaze for an instant. They both started at the unexpected

  contact and the hairs on the back of Aiden's neck prickled as

  a cold shudder rippled down his spine. Then the stranger

  turned and was gone.

  And, in that moment, so was his strength. He dropped

  down on a lower step, Alex cradled in his arms and across

  his lap, and dragged a deep, ragged breath into his lungs as

  he struggled to banish the bloody images from his mind.

  "Oh, God," Alex brokenly whispered, lifting her face to

  gaze up at him, tears still coursing down her cheeks. "Aiden."

  He wanted to kiss her. Long and slowly. Until they both

  forgot what had just happened. He managed to exercise self-control

  and find a smile. "I'm afraid that I've made a mess in

  your rear hall. Sorry about that."

  "I don't care," she replied on a shaky breath. A fresh

  wave of tears spilled over her lashes even as she swiped a

  trembling hand across her cheek. "I'm sorry," she offered,

  her voice on the verge of breaking. "I'm trying not to cry.

  Really, I am."

  "It's all right, Alex," he assured her, pulling his handkerchief

  from his pocket and gently dabbing her cheeks. "Go

  ahead and cry all you'd like. I intend to later."

  She sniffled and took the cloth from him to vigorously

  scrub her eyes and demand, "How can you be so damn calm?"

  Damn? The duchess could swe
ar? He smiled and allowed

  that if any situation merited a few curses, this one was it. He

  pushed a tendril of tear-dampened hair off her cheek and

  gently-tucked it behind her ear. "I wouldn't be doing you

  much good if I fell to pieces, now would I?"

  The look in his eyes as she gazed up at him ... Gone was

  the cold, lethal man who had squarely dealt with her attackers.

  This Aiden Terrell, the one holding her, comforting her, was

  compelling in an entirely different way. It would be so easy to

  melt into him and surrender all of her fears, all of her self. He

  wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't take advantage of her lack of

  courage. She knew that to the very marrow of her bones.

  The tender searching in his eyes was gone in a blink. As

  was the gentleness with which he held her. All of his muscles

  instantly taut, he turned his head and lifted the gun,

  pointing it at the slowly opening front door. Alex held her

  breath and pressed herself closer to him, her heart racing in

  cadence with his.

  "Ah, Mrs. Fuller," he said, lowering the weapon as she

  poked her head inside. "Perfect timing. Would you please be

  so kind as to find a constable for us? Tell him it's a bit urgent."

  The older woman met Alex's gaze for a second, then she

  nodded crisply and withdrew, closing the door smartly behind