The Perfect Temptation (35 page)

every day. I trust you to pay
him
appropriately."

"What was wrong with O'Brien?"

Working a brush over the
animal's back, Aiden shrugged.

"I considered him and then
decided against it. I wanted

someone suitable for being
inside the house. O'Brien isn't

exactly the coat-and-stock
variety."

"True enough. Why do you
need the second man? You're

only guarding the boy."

Aiden paused. How to put it all
into words? He hadn't

tried before this moment. Just
knowing it was out there was

enough for him. For Barrett,
though ...

He'd put two scoops of grain
and an
armload
of hay into

the stall feeder before he
crossed to Barrett's side of the stable,

leaned his arms on the top
rail, and admitted, "Something

isn't right about all of this,
Barrett. I've spent days

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
h
a
ve 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 considered 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