rigid, and far too independent. And as if that's not bad
enough, I've never learned how to flutter my lashes, faint in
a timely fashion, or dither helplessly over minor decisions.
The world is full of women who are far more suitable for
marriage than I am. There's no reason for a man to choose
me over them."
He disagreed but it wasn't in the interest of his more
immediate hopes to share that with her. "Does the idea of
being alone forever bother you?"
"I'm never truly alone," she blithely countered. "Here in
London I have Preeya and Mohan. Emmaline. You. And starting
tomorrow, Sawyer as well. And in India . .. It's a very full
and busy household."
"That's not exactly what I meant," he grumbled, frustrated
but unwilling to risk shocking her by more clearly stating the
question.
"Does the idea of never lying with a man bother me?"
He blinked, stunned. ''That was ... "
"Frank?" she supplied impishly. "Indians are much more
open about such matters than the English are, Aiden. And
the answer is sometimes yes, but most of the time no. And
this is the point in our conversation where I refuse to say
anything further."
Everything he really wanted to know lay on the other side
of "further," beyond the current limits of her trust. "Fair
enough," he acceded. But only because he really didn't have
any other choice.
"Do you hope to someday marry?"
"No," he replied, feeling oddly dispassionate about the
assertion. Of course, he reminded himself, it was a decision
he'd made quite some time ago and then put away from further
consideration. It was done and it was final. There really
wasn't any great emotion wrapped up in it anymore.
''That's truly a pity. You'd make a wonderful husband and
father. You've done wonders with Mohan. He's become a
completely different, much happier child."
"I had my chance. And I destroyed it."
She considered him in silence for a long moment and
then nodded slowly. "I can see how you'd feel that way. My
mother's marriage was a painful disaster in every sense. Like
you, she thought that her chance for happiness was lost
forever." A smile lifted the comers of her mouth ever so
slightly. "Life and the raja proved her wrong."
Aiden chuckled. "Is there a lesson in that for me?"
"I hope so."
''To keep my eyes open for a raja? No, thank you."
The smile ebbed away. ''The lesson, Aiden,"-she said gently,
"is that sometimes what you least expect comes to you
from where you least expect it, when you least expect it."
It was a lovely sentiment, but she'd missed the point. "I
don't want anything to come my way," he countered. "Expected
or otherwise."
"So deliberately living your life without hope is your
penance for not being God?" she posed, het brow arched.
"For not being able to lift up your hand and brush aside the
salvo that killed the woman you loved?"
"More or less," he agreed, disliking the way she'd put it
and sensing something ominous closing in around him.
"How very British of you:' she remarked somberly,
openly studying him. "If you were an Indian, a Hindu,
you'd view it completely differently. You acted in the belief
that you were doing a good deed, a true and loving kindness
for another human being whose soul was in pain. Your good
intentions, however, were thwarted by the gods and the
power of the universe through no fault of your own. To love
and to lose was your fate. To rise above the failure and engage
in further good deeds, to risk failing again, is your
challenge."
"But I'm not Indian or Hindu. I'm British to the core;' he
pointed out, trying to tamp down his inexplicably rising irritation.
"Blaming the outcome of something on fate is nothing
is mine to shape as I desire."
"So you didn't truly, in the heart of your heart, want to successfully
run the blockade?" she asked gently. "You didn't
strongly enough want your Mary Alice to live and become
your wife?"
He didn't like the way she'd framed that issue, either, but
he supposed that it was the fundamental truth of how he
looked at it all. "And there you have the foundations of an
abiding guilt."
She hummed softly, looked down at the kittens, petted
one, and then looked back up at him to ask, "So now your
great challenge in life is to be as alone and miserable as humanly
possible?"
Damn if she didn't have a way of making the most rationally
arrived-at decisions seem downright featherbrained.
And, he had to admit, there was the tiniest kernel of truth
to the point she was making. Being with her, kissing her,
definitely didn't fall in the category of human misery and he
certainly wasn't the least bit interested in abandoning either
pleasure. Accepting that reality, he willingly conceded, "Not
all the time."
Her smile bright and her eyes twinkling, she replied, "Well,
that's a relatively healthy sign. Apparently you haven't given
up the struggle altogether. Which might suggest-to an open
mind-that you're not really fated to spend this lifetime wallowing
in regret."
He didn't like the culmination of her logic any more than
he had the process of getting there. The promise he'd made
was a solemn one, a noble, honorable sacrifice for his having
failed. While he could still make the argument that it was
well within the bounds of noble and honorable, he wasn't
quite so sure anymore about the fundamental intelligence of
it. Lord knew the qualities didn't necessarily go hand in
glove. The world was full of honorable, noble fools. And he
didn't particularly relish the notion of being one of them.
Alex and her way of looking at the world ... He hadn't
had a single second thought about his course until he'd met
her. Not one. Not so much as a twinge of doubt. But, having
spent less than a week with Alexandra Radford, his world
was, if not turned fully upside down, then at the very least
severely tilted on its axis. Had she done it to him deliberately?
Or was it just the natural consequence of his having
been immersed in her decidedly unique existence?
"Which are you really, Alex?" he mused aloud. "Indian or
British? Deep down inside."
She gave him the slightest of shrugs and a cryptic smile.
"I can see the strengths of each way."
As usual, she hadn't really answered the question. Undaunted,
he pressed in a more roundabout manner. "What's
your fate in this lifetime?"
"Today it's to educate Mohan so that he can better serve
his people. What it will be tomorrow, I don't know. What
comes, comes. I'll accept the challenge as best I can and try
to do good whenever and however possible."
What comes, comes. 'That would be very Hindu of you,"
he observed, feeling smug for having maneuvered her into
revealing the truth.
"It wouldn't be an approach frowned upon by Christians,
either," she countered, her eyes still dark, still inviting him to
search. "Or Buddhists."
He had no idea about Buddhist beliefs; he'd have to take
her word on it. What he did know, though, was that she had
perfected avoidance and resistance to a fine art. That and she
intrigued him in so many ways. Far more than was good for
either of them at the moment.
"I should let you get back to your reading," he suggested,
reaching out to pet one of the sleeping kittens.
Alex willed herself to keep breathing, willed herself still
as his fingertips grazed the curve of her breast and a thrilling
current of heat arced through her. If she confessed that the
book wasn't nearly as interesting as he was ... If she invited
him to stay ...
"Good night, Alex."
There was a solace of sorts in seeing the reluctance in his
eyes as he eased out of the pillows. It was nice to know that
she wasn't alone in regretting a commitment to good judgment
and the dubious value of sterling virtue. "Good night,
Aiden," she bade. "Sweetest of dreams."
His smile was quirked as he winked and walked off into
the shadows. Alex watched him go, feeling suddenly adrift
and sadly incomplete.
Chapter 11
Three consecutive days in the saddle, Aiden silently grumbled
as they made their way into the rear yard, would make
one, if not weak, then at least acutely aware of discomfort.
Especially if it had been well over a year since you'd last
thought about saddles, stirrups, reins, and using certain muscles
in your body. Thank God for long hot baths and whatever
was in the tincture that Alex had been giving him before
dinner every evening.
There were two consolations in it all; the first being that
Mohan was well on his way to becoming an excellent rider,
the second that Alex was a delightful caretaker who winced
every time he did and spent considerable effort seeing to his
physical comfort. The only drawback was that he'd been too
tired too soon in the evening to reap the larger rewards of her
tender caretaking.
Although, he reminded himself, there was something
nicely domestic about having her gently wake him, help him
up from the pillows, and send him off to his own bed. It
would be even nicer if he ever had the presence of mind to
ask her to come with him.
"Perhaps we should put my horse back on the lead."
Aiden looked over at the boy and cocked a brow. "Do you
think we need to?"
"I am quite comfortable without it," Mohan assured him.
"It is Miss Alex's comfort which concerns me. She is not
likely to be pleased to see the lead gone. She has a habit of
worrying about me unnecessarily."
That she did. And the last three days of riding in the parks
of London had brought that home in a way he hadn't expected.
"We won't tell her that we've taken it off."
"And you do not think that she will be at a window,
watching through the new iron covers for our return?"
"If she is and if she protests, I'll assure her that you deserve
the freedom and can manage it ably."
"And you believe that she will accept Y9Uf word on this?"
he posed, clearly skeptical.
"Yes."
Mohan snorted and countered, "Then you would be the
very first man to have such an influence on her."
"And just how would you know that?" Aiden asked as he
reined in his mount and swung down. "You're only ten. You
couldn't have seen too many men try to sway her on anything."
"British officers come to see my father all the time," he
retorted, climbing down as Aiden pulled open the doors of
the stable. "They notice Miss Alex. And when Mrs. Radford
was alive, she took Miss Alex to parties at their summer headquarters.
Always one or two officers would come back after
them. I have seen many men talking sweet to Miss Alex. She
is always polite but unaffected by them. Eventually they go
away and do not return."
Which, when it came right down to it, was exactly what
he was doing now, what he was going to do in the end. Aiden
frowned, not liking that he was falling into the same pattern
as the other men who had passed through Alex's life.
"Fairness compels me to admit that you are different,"
Mohan added as they led their mounts inside. "She does not
keep the same distance with you. You may have a chance the
others did not. So perhaps it is all right to leave the lead off
my horse after all."
As though it weren't far too late to put it back on. "Sometimes,"
Aiden grumbled, "I think you're an old man in a
child's body."
"Perhaps I am."
The movement was in the lengthening shadows outside
the stable door, furtive and silent. Aiden pulled the revolver
from the small of his back even as he whirled and stepped
between it and Mohan.
Hands instantly went up. "Kindly don't."
Barrett. Aiden exhaled in relief and dropped the muzzle
toward the floor, muttering, "Well, look what the cat
dragged in."
"The cat is out T Mohan asked, looking around quickly,
clearly panicked at the possibility.
"It's an expression," Aiden clarified as Barrett sauntered
toward them. "It means that something unexpected has
turned up rather unceremoniously." He nodded toward Barrett
while tucking the gun back into the waistband of his
trousers. "That would be, in this particular case, one Barrett
Stanbridge."
Mohan bowed but never took his eyes off Barrett. "Sir."
"Since you appear to be hale, hearty, and reasonably
happy," Barrett said, looking the boy up and down with a
smile, "I'll assume that Mr. Terrell is doing his job to your
satisfaction."
"My satisfaction is of no consequence, sir. It is Miss Alex
who passes judgment on the situation."
Barrett cocked a brow and Aiden seized the moment to turn
to Mohan and say, "Speaking of Alex ... Please go tell her
and Preeya that we'll be having a guest for dinner. Mr. Stanbridge
and I will take care of the horses before we come in."
"Yes, sir."
"And then stay in the house."
Mohan nodded crisply and took off. Aiden waited until
he'd disappeared before he turned to loosen the girth of the
gelding's saddle and ask, "Where have you been, Barrett?"
"In the country," his friend supplied, stepping up to Mohan's
animal and beginning to work. "My father summoned
me for the annual lecture on accepting my various obligations
to the Stanbridge name. Quincy said you'd been by the
office looking for me."
"Four damn days ago," Aiden griped, pulling the saddle
and blanket away. He flung the tack over the top rail of the
open stall, adding, "And your secretary told me you were in
Wales."
&
nbsp; "I never tell Quincy where I'm really going. If I did, he'd
send people like you trotting right after me. And he'd send a
huge satchel of papers to be signed with you." He tossed the
saddle over the railing. Mohan's horse strode into its stall on
its own as Barrett asked, "What do you need?"
"Nothing now," Aiden supplied, leading the gelding in.
He removed the bit and bridle. "I solved the problem myself
by hiring Sawyer. He's my second, keeping an eye on the
flock when they split up from time to time. Nine to five
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