The Perfect Temptation (18 page)

He chuckled and the arm under
her hand relaxed a bit. "Do

you have a preference for
a
carriage
style? Mohan wants an

open one so he
can
be
admired
as he
careens through town."

Careen? God help London
if
Mohan
was ever truly given

the reins.
"I
think
a
closed
one would
be
much more practical

from a number of
standpoints."

"What?" he teased.
"You don't want to be admired as you

ride about London?"

"In
the first
·
place," she countered, glad that his pensive

mood had lifted, "only
the most outrageous of the ladies
are

noticed or admired by anyone.
I'm a shopkeeper and not

worth anyone's attention. And
in the second place, the fewer

people who notice Mohan, the
better."

"Well, we could put a
sack over his head and be done

with it."

"You're being ridiculous
again."

''That would
require
a
lead rope around his waist, though,"

he continued, undaunted by her
censure. "Otherwise, he's

going to charge headlong into
something and damage it And

of course, sacked, he'd never
be able to ride
a
horse or drive

a
carriage. Not that that would make
you happy."

"Mr.
Terrell," she began. "I know that you
think
I'm-"

"What is it going
to
take
to
get you
to call me Aiden?"

"A great deal more
familiarity
than
is prudent."

He drew her to a stop and
turned to squarely face her. He

cocked a brow and smiled,
dimpling his cheek. "Prudence
is

highly overrated,
Alex. "

"I haven't given you
permis-"

"I know. I
 
haven't asked for it either, have
I?"

The presumptuous man! ''Must
you always inter-"

"Yes. I've discovered
it's the quickest and easiest way to

end the resistance." His
eyes twinkled. "Which is utterly
fu
tile,

you know. You may as well give
up the effort and enjoy

the fact that someone else is
taking the lead for a change.
If

it helps any, pretend that
you're dancing."

"I don't dance," she
declared flatly, firmly.

He blinked and rocked slightly
back on his heels. "Why

ever not?"

"Because I don't like to
be led. I tend to step on toes with

great regularity."

His smile quirked higher.
"You just need a bit of practice

and the right partner. It's
all a matter of trust and conviction."

The effort to hold her own
against his relentless press was

exhausting, but she was
determined to try for as long as she

possibly could. "I've
always wondered," she countered,

"why it's the man who is
allowed to maneuver by conviction

and the woman who is expected
to follow on blind trust."

There,
she silently taunted.
Explain
that,
Aiden Terrell.

He laughed quietly, boldly
meeting her gaze. "Because,

generally speaking, we can see
over your heads. That's a distinct

advantage when trying to
shepherd someone through a

crowd of people, you know.

"Since you don't
dance," he went on, ignoring her quiet

groan of frustration, "I
assume Mohan hasn't been taught.

We'll have to add dancing
instruction to his activities. Not

that he's going to be any more
thrilled by the prospect than

you are. Boys hate to dance.
It's not until they're a bit older

that they can appreciate the
tactical aspects of
it."

''Tactical?'' she repeated.
Her mother's instruction on European

dances hadn't included the
slightest hint that there

was anything more to it than
proving oneself socially and

physically graceful.

"I'll show you
later."

"I think not," Alex
countered, remembering the power

he'd had over her in the
doorway of her room. To actually

step into his arms would be
the greatest folly of her life.

He laughed and his eyes sparkled
as he gazed down at

her. "Have you always
been so headstrong?"

"Mr. Terrell! Miss
Alex!"

They both looked toward the
sound of Mohan's voice. He

was some distance down the
row, his stance suggesting that

he'd slid to a halt.
"Over here!" he called, pointing off to his

left. "It is the perfect
carriage! Come see!"

Aiden Terrell offered his arm
again. As Alex took
it,
he

said, "You're not off the
hook. We'll finish this conversation

later."

No they wouldn't, Alex
silently vowed as she walked at his

side. She wasn't going to give
him
the
slightest opportunity to

push her in a direction she
didn't want to go, into concessions

she didn't want to make.
If
there
was one thing she'd learned

about him in the hours since
he'd moved into her life, it was

that to give Aiden Terrell
even the tiniest of openings was

tantamount to surrendering.

No, she was done trying to be
amiable and accommodating.

He could smile all he wanted.
He could laugh and his

eyes could twinkle and she
wasn't going to let it affect her.

He was an employee. A
temporary one at that. It didn't matter

how charming he could be or
how pleasantly persistent.

And, most importantly, it
didn't matter that simply looking

at
him
warmed
her blood and stirred her desires. She

could resist. She was strong.
She was of independent mind,

body, and spirit. No man was
ever going to own her. Especially

John Aiden Terrell. He was too
handsome, too confident,

too sure of his ability to
seduce any woman he wanted.

She wasn't going to be another
of his Rose Walker-Hineses.

It would be entirely too
embarrassing to be casually bedded

and then just as casually
discarded.

Thinking to steel her resolve,
Alex stole a glance at him.

He caught it and held it, his
smile soft and somehow knowing,

his brow cocked in silent
amusement. Her mind said

that she should be outraged by
his manner. Her heart whispered

that he was the most
fascinating, magnificent man

she'd ever met.

It took every bit of her will
to look away. But there was absolutely

nothing she could do about silencing
the thundering,

traitorous beat of her heart.
nothing she could do to squelch

the certainty welling up and
filling her soul.

"Is it not beautiful,
Miss Alex?"

She blinked, startled back to
the snowy field with a

breathtaking jolt. Just ahead
of her, Mohan sat in the box

pretending to drive what had
to be the biggest, brightest,

most outrageously garish
carriage ever built.

"My, it's certainly ...
" She hesitated, searching desperately

for something even remotely
kind to say about Mohan's

choice. "Red," she
finished lamely.

"And with enough
gilt," Aiden muttered, "to qualify as a

rolling French-" He
exhaled long and hard and then called

up to Mohan, "I thought
you said you wanted an open carriage."

Mohan beamed down at them.
"People will surely be able

to see me in this one. Will
they not?"

"I don't know how they
could possibly miss you," Alex

answered, feeling slightly
queasy. She turned her head and

fastened her gaze on a nearby
carriage-a sedate and conservative

black brougham. "For
God's sake," she said softly,

"don't let him choose
that thing. Do something. Change his

mind."

"Just how desperate are
you to avoid being seen in it?" he

asked, suppressed laughter
rippling through each and every

word.

She looked up at him and into
green pools sparkling with

mischief. "That's
blackmail," she accused, keeping her voice

low.

He grinned. "And that's
really ugly. How desperate?"

The certainty overfilled her
soul and flooded into the center

of her bones. At least he was
a kind man; her dignity

would be intact when he walked
away. "Name the price," she

said. knowing that the words
were sealing her fate. "Within

reason, please."

"You'll call me
Aiden."

Such a seemingly benign
request. But clearly recognizable

as the first brick being taken
from the wall he intended to

fully dismantle. "Only in
private. There are standards to be

maintained for Mohan
.
"

"Of course." His
grin edged toward wicked. "And you'll

let me teach you to
dance."

On a surge of panic, she
retorted, "I don't want to learn to

dance."

He glanced toward Mohan's
carriage and then smiled

down at her. "Do you not
want to dance
more
than you don't

want to be seen in that?"

"You're ruthless."

"Absolutely. Is that a
'yes'?"