The Perfect Temptation (51 page)

''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

off to her room once he'd gone. A warmer bath
certainly

would have been nice, but she hadn't been
capable of being

quite so philosophical at that particular
point. In her head,

she'd heard each and every second as it
ticked away into the

past. An abiding sense of urgency and the
heat of the kitchen

had made tepid bathing perfectly acceptable.

Now, though ... Alex laid aside her brush and
looked at

her reflection in the dressing table mirror.
She was bathed,

oiled, powdered, scented, and as coiffed as a
woman needed

to be when going to bed with a man. But not
just with any

man. No, with Aiden Terrell. Who, she sighed,
had no doubt

given up any hope whatsoever that she'd
appear at his door

tonight.

She wanted to do this; knew that for the
absolute certainty

it was.
If
she didn't, she'd spend the rest of her life

wondering and wishing she had a chance to
live this night

over again. Although, if she were being
honest, she'd have to

admit that she'd prefer to have Aiden come to
her door.
It

was a quibbling point, but still ... There
was something so

terribly unemotional and deliberately
rational about presenting

herself and asking if he might still be
interested in making

love with her.

Alex smiled, realizing that Aiden probably
felt exactly

the same way about the possibility of making
his way down

the hall. Only for him there would be, in the
aftermath, a

sense of having forced the decision and
himself on her.

Given the ease with which he regretted,
though, he probably

would feel that way regardless of who arrived
at whose door.

She arched a brow and met her own gaze resolutely.

There was only one way to keep him from doing
that to himself.

She was going to have to summon everything
she'd

ever heard in the women's quarters and
everything she'd

ever read in the ancient texts and take the
lead from him.

When Aiden looked back, as he inevitably would,
she wanted ·

him to exhale long and hard and marvel at how
he'd been so

absolutely powerless, thoroughly seduced, and
sweetly ravaged.

By a virgin.

Alex laughed, rose from her seat, and took
her wrapper

from the end of the bed. She was ready. It
was time. Hopefully,

he was still awake and everyone else was
blissfully

slumbering and completely unaware. And if the
gods were

truly benevolent, somewhere early in the
course of things it

would all stop feeling so terribly formal.

A candle burned on the other side of the
door; she could see

the faint flickering line, of light on the
floor in front of her

toes. She closed her eyes, lifted her chin,
and forced her

hand up from her side. Mindful that Preeya
and Mohan slept

behind doors only a few steps away, she
rapped softly and

just twice. Then opened her eyes and held her
breath.

The knob turned and the door swung fully open
on

soundless hinges. Aiden stood there, a satin
sheet barely

twisted around his hips, his wide shoulders
bare and bathed

in the soft light. His hair, as always, was
untamed, tumbling

down over his forehead in a decadent
invitation to touch.

And his eyes ...

The coolness in her stomach eased as she
studied him.

He'd been waiting for her, afraid that she
had changed her

mind. Wonder and appreciation and adoration
shone in his

eyes and she knew that for as long as she
lived she'd measure

the devotion of all men against the light she
saw in his

eyes as he smiled at her now. Wherever this
night led them,

she'd always remember this moment, this
feeling of having

at long last come home. Part of her wanted to
throw herself

into his arms and tell him that she loved
him. Another part

simply wanted to stand there and appreciate
the incredible

gift that he was.

He could see it in the tilt of her chin and
the shallowness

of her breath: she was unsure of what to say,
what to do. His

innocent, daring duchess. "Alex,"
he whispered, offering his

hand. She accepted it and let him draw her
across the threshold

and close the door behind her.

Turning, still holding her hand in his, he
thought to toss

out some jaunty comment that would make her
smile, would

ease her trepidation. But he couldn't do
anything but drink in

the sight of her. God, she was the most
beautiful woman he'd

ever seen. Her eyes were dark in the
candlelight, her skin so

softly burnished. He lifted his free hand and
gently trailed

his fingertips over the smooth arch of her
cheekbone. He'd

always thought that heaven would smell light
and flowery

sweet. He'd been so very wrong. Heaven was
rich and deep, '

heady and spicy.

"You asked me this afternoon," she
said softly, "whether

I'd feel English or Indian tonight."

"And you said you didn't know."
That angels were

golden-haired. "I gather that you've
decided?"

"Actually, no," she admitted with a
tremulous smile. She

moistened her lower lip with the tip of her
tongue and took a

breath that might have steadied her, but made
his knees go

weak with anticipation. "But I am
certain about a few other

things. I like how I feel when you hold me,
when you kiss

me and touch me. And I want-more than
anything else in

the world-to know what it feels like to fall
asleep in your

arms."

His heart was trying to hammer out of his
chest, but that

was all right. Such perfect lips, so full and
ripe. He traced

them with trembling fingers, marveling in the
softness, remembering

the taste of them, the passion in touching
them

with his own. "I can't promise you
sleep."

She kissed his fingers, lingeringly and so
reverently that

his heart slowly skipped a beat, then settled
deep into the

center of his chest, its tempo even and so
hard that he felt it

in every fiber of his being.

"I don't want any promises, Aiden,"
she whispered, the

doubt gone from her eyes as she looked up at
him. "What

there is between us in any moment is all that
there is. I don't

require anything more."

He released her hand
to
cradle her face in his palms. "Do

you know how very rare and special you
are?"

The smile that curved her lips was soft, but
no less seductive

for it. "Show me."

God give
him
the patience and the skill to be the lover she

deserved. "There'll be pain,
darling," he warned, knowing

what would have to happen and his soul aching
for his necessary

role in it. "Brief, but unfortunately
unavoidable."

"I know, Aiden." So serene, so
accepting. And then her

eyes sparkled with a quiet joy and a
confidence so sure that it

stole his breath. "I was raised in the
women's quarters. I

might not have had anything to contribute to
their conversations,

but I did listen. Attentively."

Her certainty, her happiness flowed into him,
filling him

to the marrow and, oddly, both lifting and
settling his spirit.

There was no wrong way to make love to her,
he realized.

However it happened, it would be right.
That's what Preeya

had been telling him that night in the
kitchen.

"So
you
think
you know what you're doing, do
your'
he

teased, releasing her face to gently slip
free the sash that

held her wrap closed.

"I
have a general
idea." she replied, shrugging and letting

the silk slip down and puddle around their
feet. "I was rather

hoping you'd be willing to teach me the finer
details."

Angels didn't
wear
long white robes, either. They wore

nothing at all. God, she was his every dream.
Full, firm, and

high breasts, her nipples sitting enticingly
dark and taut. Long

sweeping lines of torso, hips, and legs, so
sumptuously curved

and so perfect for holding. He willed his
hands at his sides and

fought for enough
air
to warn, "You're at the line, Alex.
Think

before you cross it. There's no going back
once you do."

She held his gaze as she reached out and
neatly undid the