The Perfect Temptation
Page 20
parading Mohan around London in plain sight. If someone's
after that child, I haven't caught so much as a hint of his
shadow. The one assault was on Alex and by the two thugs
she hired to stand watch over the boy the morning she came
to us. At least that's what it appears to be on the surface."
"Quincy saved me the Times account of it all," Barrett
replied, running his hand over the combed coat. He stepped
out of the stall, handing Aiden the brush and asking, "What
makes you think that it's something more than an overly
complicated attempt at robbery?"
"In the aftermath, I happened to glance to the front window
of the shop," Aiden supplied as he took the brush back
to the tack room. "There was an Indian man standing there,
looking in. The instant I met his gaze, he was gone."
"Maybe he happened to be passing by," Barrett suggested,
"heard the gunshots, and couldn't resist a morbid curiosity."
"He wasn't curious."
"Then what was he?"
"Well, not coolly detached," Aiden mused aloud, returning
with feed for Mohan's horse. "Resolved, maybe."
"Might you be stretching it just a bit? You'd just killed
two men, you know. The brain tends to be slightly overactive
when under such stresses."
"Perhaps," he offered noncommittally.
"But you don't think so."
Aiden leaned his back against the stall, crossed his arms
over his chest, and stared down at the toes of his boots. "Mohan
tells me that there are members of the royal court who
oppose Alex's presence."
"Because she's British?"
Aiden frowned. "I think it's more complicated than that,
but being a Brit is probably at the root of it. Alex hasn't
come right out and bluntly said so, but she's strongly implied
that her mother wasn't just the royal tutor."
"She was also one of the raja's consorts?" Barrett said,
clearly intrigued. "Is Alex their daughter?" .
An image flashed though his mind, a memory of sun kissed
skin and inviting eyes in the flickering candlelight. If
it had been the only one he had of her ... Aiden shook his
head, dispelling the exotic fantasy. ''They were taken into
the royal court when Alex was a child," he supplied. "Mohan
seems to think that when they return to India his father's going
to either make Alex one of his mistresses or another of
his wives. Either that or marry her off to someone else."
"So tell me, did hearing that bit of news put a kink in your
tail?"
He heard the amusement, the friendly taunt in Barrett's
tone. ''That's neither here nor there," he answered, refusing to
be drawn into a personal discussion. "All I'm looking at are
the puzzle pieces and trying to understand the whole picture. I
can see why there would be some opposed to Alex's returning.
Say he made her a wife and they had children, a boyar two.
There would be a half-British heir in line for the throne."
"Way down the line, though," Barrett countered, beginning
to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. "Any children
she might have with the raja would hardly be a
significant threat to the older heirs."
"I know. That's why it doesn't make sense to consider
Alex an imminent threat in any way. Hell, you can't even really
make the argument that she imposes strict British standards
on their way of life and makes them uncomfortable
from that standpoint. In many ways, she's really more Indian
than she is British."
''That could be interesting in certain respects."
He wasn't about to share any of those particular details
with Barrett. Keeping to his professional concerns, he asked,
"So why would anyone be so opposed to her return that
they'd travel to London and try to kill her?"
Barrett shrugged. "You're assuming that they are, John
Aiden. You don't have any proof that it's actually happening.
All you have is the boy's assertion that there are some who
don't like her presence in the court and don't want her to
come back."
"And an Indian stranger peering in the window the morning
someone tried to kidnap her."
"Which could simply be a coincidence. Have you seen
him again?"
No, he hadn't. And the fact that he'd been keenly looking
somehow reinforced the sense that all wasn't right in Alex's
world. "All right, I don't have any proof. I'll give you that.
But I've got a feeling, Barrett. It's crawling under my skin."
Barrett stopped his pacing and sighed. "It's called lust,
John Aiden," he said, his tone a mixture of both patience and
amusement. "The more you resist it, the worse it gets. Bed
the woman and you'll feel ever so much better."
Aiden considered ignoring the comment but decided that
Barrett wasn't likely to abandon the issue until it had been
squarely addressed. "In the first place," he said coolly, meeting
his friend's gaze, "I know the difference between the
feelings of lust and danger. And in the second, Alex isn't the
sort of woman you toss down, thoroughly rumple, and then
leave with a tip of your hat and a pleasant thank-you."
"My," Barrett drawled, his brow cocked high, "a little
touchy about that, aren't you? It would seem that you have
some genuine feelings for her."
"Whatever they might be," Aiden replied easily, firmly,
"they're none of your business. The only reason I'm mentioning
any of this to you is that I'm hoping to pick your
brain as to why she's in apparent danger and how the hell
I'm supposed to protect her."
Barrett smiled. "And I don’t have the slightest notion that
would be of any help to you other than to suggest that you
keep her tied to your hip and ankle while clutching a loaded
gun in your hand. Sleeping with one eye open might not be a
bad idea, either."
As though, with Alex physically tied to him, he would
sleep at all. "Why does anyone ever spend good money to
hire you?" he mused aloud.
"Hell if I know,” Barrett admitted, his grin broadening.
"But they do. Time after time. Amazing, isn't it?"
Aiden snorted in disgust. .
"And speaking of investigations," Barrett went on. "What
have you been able to learn about her silver trading? Or have
you even bothered to make an effort in that direction?"
The inquiry had been couched in just the tone and terms
he'd known it would be. Aiden was ready with the answer.
"Alex doesn't trade with street people. Every transaction she
makes is with those she knows-mostly the trusted servants
of people we're likely to meet at one of your mother's social
affairs. It's discreetly done, but it's always aboveboard and
perfectly legal."
"You're absolutely certain?"
That Barrett would even think to question his assertion
and Alex's inherent honesty was profoundly irritating. "Absolutely."
Prod again, he silently threatened, and I'll put
your ass on the floor.
Barrett consider
ed him, his brow slowly rising. "Do you
think," he finally ventured, "she'd know where to get stolen
silver if she were of a mind to acquire it?"
As insults and implications went, it was borderline. "Why
are you asking?"
Barrett checked a smile. "I hear the distinct notes of suspicion
in your voice, John Aiden. I'm thinking about being
offended."
"Go right ahead and be offended.," Aiden countered. "I
don't give a damn if you are. Why are you asking?"
Apparently deciding that matters would go much more
smoothly if he didn't take offense, Barrett smiled and started
pacing again. "I'm thinking that she might be able to help
me find where Lord Westerham's silver went and perhaps
even get it back before Lady Westerham returns from Paris
to discover it's gone and starts asking questions that his
lordship would really prefer not to answer."
"Well, if he'd been a little more careful in who he brought
home and dropped his trousers for, he wouldn't be in this
particular mess."
''True. But that doesn't change the fact that he needs his
silverware back. And is willing to pay whatever expense is
involved to get it." He looked over to meet Aiden's gaze.
"Do you think: Alex Radford would be able to help in that regard?"
It was a logical request. Of a person who was in a position
to better solve the problem than anyone else they knew.
He wasn't particularly happy with the idea of Alex taking on
the task but understood that it wasn't his right to make the
decision. "You'll have to ask her."
"You'd let me?"
The surprise, the suppressed laughter irritated him anew.
Aiden glared at him. "I'm her guard, not her keeper, Barrett."
His friend tilted his head to the side and considered him
somberly for a long moment before carefully asking. "May I
give you a piece of personal advice, John Aiden? As one
friend to another?"
"No."
"Well," Barrett drawled with a bare shrug, "I have to anyway.
Conscience being the nastily persistent thing it is and
all."
"I don't want to hear it," Aiden announced, unfolding his
arms and coming off the stall. He'd taken two steps toward
the stable door when Barrett blocked his path.
"You don't really have a choice," Barrett said, sounding surprisingly-
regretful. "Your sweet Mary Alice is dead,
Aiden." He went on blocking his attempt to step around him.
''There's nothing you can do to change that."
Aiden gritted his teeth and resolved himself to enduring
the lecture. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could walk
away and forget it. "I assume there's more," he growled,
meeting his friend's searching gaze. ''There always is."
Barrett nodded slowly. "Look, John Aiden," he said
kindly, "it's not a dastardly betrayal of her memory for you
to find Alex attractive. Hell, if you didn't, I'd be worried
about you. Nine-tenths of the reason I sent you off with her
was because I was hoping she'd be the perfect temptation for
you. And I'm glad-no, I'm over-the-moon happy-that she
apparently is. Just remember: Sex is certainly nice, but it's
just sex. It's nothing more than that." .
Aiden's stomach was knotted and his pulse pounded
through a tumult of jumbled, heated emotions. Anger. Hurt.
Regret. And most frighteningly, an overwhelming, soaring
sense of relief. "You're treading the line, Barrett;' he warned,
hoping it would be enough to make Barrett drop the matter
entirely. "Be careful. There are limits to friendship."
"I know that I'm pushing," his friend replied solemnly.
"If I didn't think it important, I wouldn't take the chance.
But I'm not sure that the distinctions between lust and obligation
are really all that clear to you these days. They have
to be, John Aiden. I need to know that you've finally regained
a solid, healthy perspective on things."
"Why?" Aiden demanded.
"Because the last time you fancied a woman," his friend
retorted, “You damn near got yourself killed for the wonder
of riding her."
Anger surged through him. But so did the feeling of being
utterly besieged. "You're over the line now," he declared, his
voice rough with barely contained desperation.
"And the choice to cross it was deliberate," Barrett said
even more kindly, even more regretfully. "I'm also afraid that
you expect Alexandra Radford to step into Mary Alice Randolph's
shoes and take up the grand and glorious illusion
where the love of your life dropped it. Bed Alex if you want
to-and God knows you'd be human if you do-but understand
that you don't have to marry her for the privilege.
"Never love a woman more than you love yourself, John
Aiden. Never. Keep your head firmly on your shoulders and
your wits about you. Tell me that you can do that with
Alexandra Radford and I'll leave you alone. I'll never mention
any of this again."
Jesus Christ! That's what all this had. been about? It was
about what he was thinking in wanting to bed Alex?
"I know the difference between love and sex, Barrett," he
said firmly. "I don't love Alex. Yes, I like her and find her an
interesting person. Yes, I'll admit to wanting to bed her. I
think about it all the time, actually. But I have no fanciful illusions
as to what she means to me beyond that and no intentions
whatsoever of offering her forever. My head is
firmly on my shoulders and I have full possession of my
wits. You don't need to worry about me. Thank you for doing
so, but it's not necessary."
Barrett visibly relaxed as he expelled a hard breath. His
smile was apologetic. "I do believe you might have turned an
important corner. Thank God."
Aiden shook his head in amazement and walked past his
friend saying, "Dinner's probably ready."
He'd been set up. So had Alex. Barrett had deliberately
put the two of them together, hoping he'd want to seduce her
and willing to sacrifice Alex in the name of ... In the name
of what? Aiden wondered, leading the way toward the kitchen
and the washbasin. For what grand and glorious cause was
Alex supposed to surrender her virtue? So he could feel better?
To draw him back into the world where bedding women
was nothing more than an evening's casual pastime?
Absolutely nothing about Alex was casual. And, Barrett's
hopes be damned, he liked her just the way she was and
wouldn't change one damn thing about her even if he could.
Alex couldn't recall any other time when she'd been so
grateful to see a meal come to an end. Maintaining a steady,
smooth flow of conversation had been excruciatingly difficult.
Barrett had certainly held up his end of the effort but
Mohan had been occupied with translating for Preeya and
Preeya had been too busy listening and watching to contribute
anything. And Aiden ...
Aiden had been largely lost in his own thoughts. Every
si
ngle time they'd tried to draw him into their conversation,
the question had had to be repeated. And then his answers
and observations had been so skeletal that they'd eventually
given up trying. Asking him what troubled him had produced
only a shrug and a terse assurance that it wasn't at all
significant.
Alex rose from the table, intending to gather up the remaining
plates and follow Preeya and Mohan down to the
sanctuary of the kitchen. At least the three of them wouldn't
be at a loss for something to talk about.
"Miss Radford?" Barrett said as she picked up her plate.
"I'm wondering if perhaps you might be able to help me
with something."
She paused. "If I can."
From the inside pocket of his suit coat he removed a butter
knife and handed it to her asking, "What can you tell me
about this particular piece of silver?"
"It's sterling," she supplied, thinking that this was the
oddest after-dinner exchange she'd ever had with a man.
Aiden was standing beside his friend, staring off into the
distance as he had throughout dinner.
''The pattern is simply called 'Fiddle' for obvious reasons,"
she went on. "It's a fairly popular one these days. You
can tell by the feel of it that it's extremely well crafted."