would tell you, if they were willing to stretch the caste system
enough to include me at all, that I'm Vaishya because my father
was in trade. There are others who argue that I'm an Untouchable
simply because I'm British and Christian. There's
absolutely no reason for anyone to envy me anything."
He had no choice but to playa high card. Mohan could just
be angry about the betrayal. "Perhaps someone thinks you
might someday be the raja's wife or one of his royal consorts."
Her smile disappeared in a heartbeat. ''There are strict
rules about relationships-especially intimate ones-outside
one's caste. Violating them isn't done without great personal
and social risk."
"Mohan says differently."
She arched a brow. "Mohan has been saying a great deal
lately, hasn't he?"
"Change of subject, darling. It's not going to work. Mohan
thinks you'll marry his father."
Her jaw dropped. And for some insane reason his spirits
soared.
"I don't know why he'd tell you such a thing, Aiden. He
knows full good and well that would never happen." She
pursed her lips for a second, then took a deep breath. "What
I'm going to tell you must remain between us, Aiden. It goes
no further. Promise me."
He nodded and she went on. "If Mohan's father had been
willing to take an English woman as either a wife or a mistress,
he and my mother would not have had to maintain the
clandestine nature of their affair for all the years they did.
But the price of openly admitting it would have been too
great for Kedar."
"Kedar?"
"Mohan's father. His name is Kedar."
"What would have been the consequences?"
Alex sighed, knowing that only a Briton would have to ask
the question. "Congress with a woman some consider an Untouchable?
Those that want the throne for themselves would
have been delighted to have that weapon to use against him."
"So why would he risk even a secret affair?"
''They loved each other, Aiden," she said, squeezing his
hands. ''They dared as much as they could. Kedar had to outwardly
pretend otherwise, but he was devastated when
Mother suddenly fell ill and died."
"Who wants the throne? Who opposes Kedar's rule?"
"It's India," she replied with a quiet snort. ''The easier
question to answer would be who doesn't want his throne?"
"A related truth. If you had to come up with a short list of
likely plotters, who would be on it?"
There was no point in trying to divert him. He was going
to persist until he simply couldn't go any further. "At the top
of it would be his cousin Kalin and his younger brother
Hanuman."
"Do you have any idea of where they might be?"
''When I left India, they were at court. I assume they're
still there. Kedar doesn't dare let them out of his sight."
"Are they wealthy men in their own right?"
''I can see the lines along which you're thinking, Aiden.
Yes, they have the resources necessary to reach all the way to
England. But it's Kedar's and Mohan's deaths that would benefit
them, not mine. I'm of no consequence to them whatsoever."
He frowned and stared down at their hands. "So, we're
back to the original question, Alex. Who wants to harm you?"
''No one, Aiden. Absolutely no one."
"What about those who resent a British presence in the
court on general principle?"
She groaned and slumped back against the seat. He could
be so relentless, so exhausting. "In the first place," she began
with all the patience she could muster, "their protests are
largely hollow. As much as they dislike being under British
rule, they're realistic enough to know that there's an advantage
in understanding the ways of the rulers. And in the second
anything more than verbally rail. As long as Mohan's father
remains firm in his commitment to working with the British,
the worst they can do is be unpleasant."
''Alex,'' he instantly countered, his gaze coming up to meet
hers, "I have never believed that those two thugs came into the
Blue Elephant to steal the silver. That might have been the
pretense or the second thought, but it wasn't the primary reason.
I think they were sent in with instructions to either take
you to someone-our shadow warrior-or to simply take you
out and kill you. There has to be a reason why."
"If there is, I have no idea what it might be, unless it's to
make getting to Mohan easier."
"If that's what they wanted, then I'd be the prey. And I'm
not. It's you."
Heaven forbid that he ground supposition on reality. She
studied him as he stared out the window. He was so determined
to see. So very worried that he couldn't. Her heart
swelled and her irritation melted away.
"I understand," she said, shifting on the seat so that she
reclined against his chest again, "that rugby uniforms are really
quite form-fitting. Inspirationally so." His arms slipped
around her and she added, "Not that you need the assistance
of clothing to do that, of course."
"You're flirting dangerously close to the edge, darling.
You have been all afternoon."
"I know," she replied, reveling in the warmth of his body
against hers, the rich rumble of his voice as it passed into
her.
''At some point I'm going to draw the line and dare you to
cross it."
"I know that, too."
He nibbled the edge of her ear, whispering, "Ask me not
to play."
"No," she replied, a lusciously warm shiver cascading
through her. "You promised Hawkins you'd be there."
"Which I sincerely regret."
''All things happen when they're meant to. And not a moment
before."
Moaning quietly, he gently pushed aside the hair at her
nape. "Patience," he said, brushing his lips over her skin,
"isn't my long suit."
Savoring another delightful shiver, Alex tilted her head to
afford him better access, certain that, despite his claims, he
was the most remarkably, gently patient man she would ever
know.
Aiden stepped out of the carriage acutely aware that James
Crumb was a considerably slighter man. The only possible
salvation lay in the condition of the field. After the first slide
or two through the mud and muck, the fabric might give
enough to allow him to breathe.
"Oh, my."
He looked over his shoulder. Alex stood by the front
wheel, her brow arched as she slowly looked him up and
down. Jesus. What she could do to him with a wicked little
smile. Add in the devilish twinkle in her eye ... "Darling,"
he said, turning away before she could do any further damage
to his self-control. ''These breeches are entirely too snug
for you to be looking at me like that."
Suppressed laughter rippled brightly through her voice.
"I'm sorry. Have fun, but do be
careful out there. If you tear
something, you're going to reveal what precious little you've
left to my imagination."
Walking onto the field was both an act of supreme denial
and desperate self-defense. At the edge of his vision, he saw
movement and the colors of the Blackthorn team. He fixed
his vision on the knot of his teammates and kept going.
"How on earth did you manage to find yourself such a
pretty little half-caste?"
He knew the voice, the son of a bitch who went with it,
and that he was talking about Alex. Being half. English and
half something else didn't matter to Aiden in the least. Purity
of ancestry did matter to other people, though, and
clearly Geoffrey Walker-Hines was one of them. His teeth
clenched, Aiden ignored him and kept walking, hoping he'd
go away.
"Did you bring her out of India yourself?" Walker-Hines
persisted, falling in beside him. "Is that where you've been
these past two years?"
Damnation. He'd been in such a good mood. And now,
just one narrow-minded bastard later ... Deciding to put an
end to it, Aiden stopped and faced the other squarely. "Not
that it makes any difference," he began, "but for the record,
Geoff, my mother's American Irish. Strictly speaking, I'm
the half-caste mongrel. Alex's parents were both British."
"And you believe that story?" the other snorted, smirking.
"I spent my entire two-year enlistment garrisoned in India.
She looks British, but the way she carries herself is Indian.
She's a half-caste. You're slipping, Terrell. You used to be
one of the best at seeing through pretenses and facades."
"You, on the other hand," Aiden countered, "have always
been and remain to this day a complete ass."
''I do, however, have standards." He leaned closer, lowered
his voice, and looked back toward Alex. "But I might
consider making some temporary allowances for her. She
looks positively delicious. Is she?"
Anger, white and searing, shot through him. His hands
balled into fists, he required every shred of his quivering
self-restraint to keep them at his sides. Slowly, so there was
no mistaking the line being drawn, he said, "You've stepped
past decency and this conversation is over."
Ever the undaunted brick, he posed, "When you decide
you're bored with her ... I've got a Frenchie at the moment.
We could trade."
Trade? As though Alex were a horse or a hunting dog?
Turning and walking away before he lost what little control
he possessed, Aiden tossed over his shoulder, "Go to hell,
Geoff."
"Damn you, Terrell. Always the businessman."
Businessman? Christ Almighty. What did that have to do
with anything? Aiden walked on, shaking his head, and willing
his anger down. Geoffrey wasn't just an ass, he was a
first-rate ass. But as sorely tempting as it was, putting him in
his place wasn't worth the pain of split knuckles.
"All right. A business proposition," Walker-Hines said,
trotting up and falling in beside him again. "After the game.
Ten minutes, ten pounds. That's a pound a minute for her.
While you ride Rose for free. What do you say?"
Say? He was well beyond words, well beyond enraged.
He stopped dead, and as Walker-Hines skittered and turned
back, Aiden swung his fist. It connected with a satisfying
crunch of flesh against flesh, bone against bone. The ass
landed on his, howling and spitting blood and teeth into his
lap.
Aiden absently flexed his fingers and leaned down. "Stay
well away from my lady. If I ever see you within ten meters
of her, I'll geld you right then and there. You'll wish I'd
killed you. That's a promise, Geoff. Remember it."
Walker-Hines was struggling back to his feet when Aiden
turned on his heel and walked away, resuming his course
across the field toward his teammates. My lady. He glanced
back over his shoulder. Alex was standing beside their
coach, obviously listening to the three women who stood in
semicircle before her. In seeing his attention, she smiled
and waved. He waved in return, then faced back to his teammates
and. grinning. broke into a trot.
She was an incredible woman. And out of all the men in
the world, she'd chosen him. His lady. Her lover. Soon.
Damn. life was good.
Chapter 14
"Oh, Aiden," she whispered as he dropped onto the opposite
seat and they started toward the sanity of home.
He grinned, pulled a strand of dried, muddy grass from
his hair and said. ''A hot bath and I'll be as irresistible as
ever," as he leaned over and tossed it out the carriage window.
"It's not the mud that concerns me," she countered, leaning
forward to take his chin gently in hand. Ignoring his
cocked brow and his rakish smile, she turned his face so that
the right side was angled into the fading afternoon light.
"Your cheek is skinned. So is the cornel; of your jaw."
''They don't hurt."
Alex ignored his assertion and went on with her appraisal.
Releasing his chin, she took his open collar and pulled it
slightly aside. "Your shoulder's scraped, as well."
"Really? Never felt a thing. Still don't."
Heaven only knew what damage had been done through
the cloth, damage that she couldn't readily see. At least there
weren't any obviously broken bones, she consoled herself as
she swept her gaze down the length of his arms. "Aiden!"
she cried, cradling and lifting his right hand, horrified by the
wide, bloody, dirt-encrusted splits across the first three
knuckles.
"I'll admit that those smart some."
"And you wanted to know if I allowed Mohan to play this
beastly game. And calling it a game is being generous. I've
never seen such a long and constant stream of utter chaos
and deliberate violence."
He grinned. "We won."
"Is that worth getting yourself battered and torn?" she
asked, gingerly placing his injured hand on his knee and resuming
her assessment.
"Well, yes. On two counts," he countered buoyantly. ''The
first being that today was the only defeat Blackthorn's been
given in over four years. That's no small accomplishment.
And the second is that I need a bit of minor doctoring.
There's some potential in that."
"Potential for what?" she asked, meeting his gaze, her
brow arched. "More pain?"
Amid the dirt stains and the smears of dried blood, his eyes
twinkled with mischief. "Pleasure, actually. Especially when
we get to the part where you kiss everything to make it better."
"You are such an optimist," she teased, amazed by the resiliency
of his spirit.
"Not really. I know that you have the biggest, softest
heart in England." His smile mellowed and he added,
"Thank you for being a good sport about the game and the
time it took, Alex. I used to play practically every day. Having
another go at it ... It felt l
ike yesterday, like the last two
years hadn't happened. That was nice."
''Then I'll allow that it was worth the scrapes and cuts,"
she admitted, her heart wishing that he could have that kind
of peace all the time, wishing she had the power to give him
that gift.
Leaning his head back onto the cushion, he gazed up at
the ceiling of the carriage as his smile faded. "If you could
go back in your life and erase one thing you've done, Alex,
what would it be?"
He was thinking of his Mary Alice, of his ship and crew
and all the losses he hadn't been able to prevent. She
searched her brain, sorting through memories, desperately
hoping to find something of equal magnitude to share with
him, something that would let him know that he wasn't the
only one in the world who bore the burden of remorse.
"I can't think of anything," she finally, sadly, had to admit.
His gaze snapped down to hers. "You have, absolutely no
regrets in your life? None?”
'Well, regretting something I've done rather depends on