The Perfect Temptation (15 page)

"You learn quickly, Mr.
Terrell," she offered as she glided

past him. "I'm most
impressed." She stopped in the center of

the hall and turned back,
nonchalantly but effectively blocking

his exit from the parlor.
"My room, of course, is down

there," she said, gesturing
to the hall on her left. She lifted

her right hand toward the other
end of the hall and Aiden

saw her intention.

"I'd like to see it,
please."

Her arm falling slowly to her
side, she looked at him for a

long moment, clearly weighing a
decision. ''My private

quarters are none of your
concern."

There was no fire in her
assertion, just a quiet wariness

that he found utterly intriguing.
"I beg to differ," Aiden

countered gently but firmly.
"There are three rooms on this

side of the hall. I've seen one
of them, mine. It's on the end

and has five windows and two
doors. One door comes in

from the hall, the other opens
into Mohan's room. Two of

the windows overlook the rear of
the house, three overlook

the city to the east. If I wanted
to gain illegal access to this

house, all I'd have to do is
climb anyone of several trees on

the east side, lean out on a
limb, break the window glass and

crawl inside."

She continued to study him, one
delicate brow arched and

her wariness apparently
unaffected by his explanation. Undaunted,

he pressed on.

"Your room, Miss Radford, is
undoubtedly-British architecture

being the predictable creature
that it is configured

exactly as my own. I need to see
what lies outside your

windows that can aid someone bent
on getting to Mohan.

And yes," he added before
she could suggest it, "I could very

well go out and stand at the side
and rear of the house to

make that survey. However, I'm
here and it's a simple matter

of opening the door and letting
me in to look from the perfect

vantage point."

"I assure you that my
windows are perfectly secure."

Still no fire; still wary. He
held his ground. "I want to see

that for myself. Please."

She caught the inside of her lip
with her teeth and he

knew that in the end she would
relent. He waited, willing to

be patient for the sake of
earning her trust. God, she was

beautiful standing there, loose
ringlets of dark hair framing

her face and looking a little
confused, a little wary, and so

very determined to keep him from
knowing that. So young,

so vulnerable. So at odds with
the duchess she pretended to

be.

Without saying a word, she turned
and walked off in the

direction of her room. Aiden
expelled a hard breath in relief

and went after her before she
could change her mind.

Her hand on the doorknob, she
looked up at him and said,

'''There will be absolutely no
comments of a personal nature."

Aiden resisted the urge to laugh,
drew a quick X over his

heart, and held up his hand, palm
out.

And regretted the casually made
vow the instant she flung

wide the door. The windows were
shuttered with panels of intricate

wooden fretwork that threw a
thousand delicate swirls

of shadow and afternoon sunlight
over the contents of the

room. Which were, with the
exception of the four-poster bed

and a rattan sofa, most decidedly
non-English. The coverlet

was a deep, deep gold. Almost an
amber. An intensely rich

rainbow of pillows had been
invitingly piled about the bed and

every comer of the room, all of
them plump and full, covered

in rich silk fabrics of one sort
or another. A thick carpet of

reds and golds and greens covered
almost the entire surface of

the wood floor. Gleaming silver
and gold pieces sat on her

dressing table, a true
masterpiece of hand-carved artwork.

But all of that paled beside the
fact that Preeya had apparently

done the washing that morning. On
the bed, lying in

brilliant contrast against the
dark coverlet, was a white

corset of sheer, sheer fabric and
trimmed with lace and ribbons

in all the right places. A
saffron-colored nightgown of

impossibly transparent fabric had
been draped over the foot

of the bed. Between it and the
corset was a pair of equally

seductive pantaloons.

Clearly none of it was made of
English fabric. And it was

equally obvious that the garments
didn't reflect so much as a

hint of typical English
reservation. Alexandra Radford had

excellent taste. As well as what
appeared to be an excellent

understanding of what men
considered irresistibly erotic.

Who would have guessed? He
certainty hadn't. But, as unexpected

discoveries went, it was
definitely the best one he'd

made in a long, long time.

And it was probably wise to keep
that pleasure to himself.

With monumental effort, he reined
in his appreciative

grin and moved toward the
windows. Flipping open the

latch, he pulled the fretwork
aside and gazed out over an unobstructed

western view of the city. No
trees. No nearby

buildings, just the street below
and the houses on the other

side. No one was going to gain
easy egress to this room

unless Alex Radford opened one of
the doors and invited

them in.

Which she wasn't at all likely to
do, he reminded himself

as he rehooked the latch. All
those delicious wrappings going

to waste, hidden away and unseen.
Untouched by male

hands. Damn. There was a true,
heartbreaking tragedy if

ever there was one. He needed to
do something about rectifying

that.

"Have you seen enough?"
she asked as he moved back to

the door.

God no,
he
silently answered, fighting his smile again and

bringing his gaze up to meet
hers. His amusement ebbed

away and his steps slowed until
he stood in front of her. So

many emotions in her eyes.
Uneasiness and courage, hurt

and hunger. He wanted to reach
out and gather her into his

arms, to pull her close and rub
his cheek against her dark

curls. Just to hold her; that's
all he wanted. It wasn't much to

ask, much to give or to take. But
it was too soon.

And yet ... She knew. It was
there in the quick rise and

fall of her breasts, in the way
her lips were parted as she

struggled to breathe. He could
see it in her eyes, too. Temptation,

curiosity, a flicker of
trepidation, of uncertainty.

A kiss would be all it took. He
could banish the doubts in

seconds, make her forget she had
them. Until he let her go.

And then she'd remember and
distrust him all the more for

his having so callously pushed
her fears aside. No, when the

apprehension was gone, when she
searched his face without

asking silent questions ... Only
then. Only when she was

absolutely sure.

And it was only right that he
give her fair warning of his

intentions. He cleared his throat
softly and moistened his

suddenly too dry lips.
"Enough," he said quietly, firmly. "For

now."

Chapter 7

Alex forced herself to swallow,
but breathing ... The look in

his eyes made it impossible.
If
she
moved.
if
she
tried to

speak, he would lean down and
kiss her. Gently, deliciously,

and thoroughly. There would be
no resisting him. She knew

that
to
her
marrow.
In
the
center of her soul a quiet hope

whispered of risk and sweet
reward.

''Mohan's room," he said
softly, still watching her face. He

quietly cleared his throat
again before adding,
"If
you please."

He'd offered a reprieve. All
she had
to
do was turn her

head, look away, and the spell
would be broken. All she had

to
do
was reach for him and he would take her
in
his arms.

He dragged breath into his
lungs, took a
full
step back, and

mercifully kept her from
making a fool of herself.

Turning away, filled with a
curious mixture of relief and

disappointment, Alex
-
moved
with weak knees to Mohan's

door
.
As
before, he didn't respond
to
her
knock and she

opened the door without asking
again.

And, as before, he sat
cross legged
on
his pallet, his arms

folded over his chest and his chin
raised defiantly. This time,

however, the floor between his
bed and the doorway was

strewn with what had been his
lunch.

She gasped in shock. From
behind her came Aiden Terrell's

low growl. "Mohan!"
she began, furious. "You will clean up

this mess immediately."

He raised his chin another
notch. "Preeya can do it."

"She's perfectly capable
of doing so," Alex snapped, "but

she won't. She has enough work
to do without following behind

you with a broom and pan. You
alone created this disaster

and you alone will rectify it.
Now."

Mohan glared at her in silent
defiance. Alex mentally

ticked through the punishments
she could impose as leverage.

Continued confinement, she
decided. With no more meals.

Not until it was cleaned up.
"Very well," she began. 'Then I

have-"

"We're going out,"
Aiden Terrell said coolly, firmly from

over her shoulder. "You
have five minutes to make yourself

publicly presentable, young
man. Don't waste it."