Read The Perfect Temptation Online
Authors: Leslie LaFoy
whirled about and grabbed
Aiden Terrell by his arms.
"Preeya wants a peacock
in the worst sort of way. I have no
idea whether she intends to
keep it for a sentry or
to
have it
for a main course one night.
But she's asked me for ages to
find one for her and ... I
have to have that
pair
of
peacocks,
Aiden. I don't care what it
takes. I don't care what it costs. I
have to have them. Today.
Now."
God, she was beautiful. Such
excitement, such open happiness
and hope
.
Her eyes
were bright blue with
it
"Peacocks;'
he said, moistening his lips.
Catching the birds; trussing them,
and getting them into the
rented hack and back to the house
was going to take some time.
Time he'd planned to use for
finding and buying horses. But
if Alex wanted peacocks and
getting them for her made her
happy, then he'd make what
adjustments were necessary.
He'd get to the horses tomorrow
.
It was a small thing compared
to having
accomplished
his most important goal of the
day. Alex had not only come
to trust him, but she had just
thrown herself and a heartfelt
desire on his good nature.
It was good to know that life
could still offer the pleasures
of a game well played.
It
was even
better to
realize
that, despite
having been to hell and back
,
he
hadn't lost his touch.
"All right, Alex,"
he said.
"If
Preeya wants peacocks, we'll
get her peacocks."
Chapter 8
Ah, Alex groggily thought,
rolling over and burying her face
in her pillow. The unmistakable
notes of outraged peacocks
at dawn. It was like being back
in India. Except in India, of
course, one of the servants
would be bringing her breakfast
in bed. Here, she was going to
have to get up, dress herself,
and walk to the dining room
if
she
wanted something to eat.
Preeya might well be thrilled
beyond words to have peacocks,
but she wasn't going to let the
raucous reminder of
home sweep away her common
sense.
Flopping onto her back. Alex
sighed and stretched, then
sat up, struggling to keep her
eyes open. She stretched again,
long and slowly, trying to draw
herself from the edges of one
of the deepest sleeps she could
ever remember. She smiled
and let her arms drop into her
lap. A day with Aiden Terrell
would make anyone sleep like
the dead.
The man simply didn't sit idle
for a single second. He and
Mohan had been playing a
spirited game of Parcheesi last
night when she'd had to put
down her needlepoint and admit
that she couldn't keep her eyes
open another minute. What a
day it had been. Hopefully,
today would
be
a bit less frenetic.
No, she amended, pushing the
coverlet down and sliding
to
the edge of the mattress, a
lot
less frenetic.
The knock at the door gave her
pause. She arched a brow,
wondering
if
perhaps
Preeya was even more grateful
~an
she'd known. "Yes?"
she called out.
The door opened and, without
the slightest preamble or
apology, Mohan marched in,
jauntily saying, "Good morning,
Miss Alex."
Right behind him came Aiden
Terrell. "Good morning,
Miss Radford."
Mohan, dressed in a clean,
crisply pressed suit. was carrying
a secretary's portable desk,
the quill pen tucked behind
his ear. Aiden was without his
suit coat. his shirt sleeves
rolled up to his elbows, and
carrying a folded wooden tape.
He smiled at her and winked.
"Excuse me!" she
gasped, snatching up the coverlet and
using it as a shield. ''What
are you-"
''Oh, it's no problem at
all,"
Aiden
assured her, grinning
as he followed Mohan to the windows.
''As long as you keep
that coverlet in place."
Scrambling back into the bed
and well under the covers,
she asked, "What are you
two doing?"
"Is
it not apparent?" Mohan asked, making a
notation on
his paper as Aiden unfolded the
tape. ''We
are
measuring the
windows."
''Why?''
"Mr.
Terrell and I will take our numbers to a blacksmith
this morning and commission
iron covers for each and every
window:' he supplied, leaning
forward to note the numbers
as Aiden held the measure flush
against the window frame.
As they continued to work
in
tandem,
her ward went on,
saying,
"Mr.
Terrell
has designed a most attractive pattern.
You will like it immensely. And
when that task has been
completed, we will begin our
search for horses. Two for the
carriage I selected and three
for riding. And when that task is
completed we will bring them
home and then construct a
more substantial pen for
Preeya's peacocks. They have destroyed
the one Mr. Terrell attempted
to make last night."
"I'll remind you that it
was dark and cold and I was under
attack," Aiden retorted
good-naturedly, refolding his tape as
Mohan made further notes.
"How is your leg this
morning?" Alex asked, struggling
to contain her laughter,
amusement overriding her embarrassment.
"Sore. He took out a couple
of good-sized chunks."
Good-sized? Ha! He'd barely
been nipped. "Perhaps
you'll have scars to share with
the other boys."
He was biting back a rejoinder;
she could see it in the
devilish twinkle in his eyes.
He had to look away and gain
control of his smile before he
could say, "With what we have
to do, I'm guessing we'll be
gone all day. I'll tell Preeya before
we leave so she doesn't cook
for an army at lunch."
"Am
I not invited to go along?"
Please, dear
God, have
mercy on me.
He looked a little startled and
he sounded apologetic
when he answered, "Mohan
said that you wouldn't want to
because your crates have
arrived."
"Well, then he's
right," she hastened to assure
him,
relieved.
''There's work to be done
here." She started and studied
the light filtering through the
fretwork. "What time is it?"
"Just after nine,"
Mohan supplied, marching toward the
door. "We have been up for
hours. We have much to do today."
"I've never slept this
late in my entire life," Alex whispered.
"It's hardly a sin, you
know," Aiden said on his way out
the door. He grinned at her
over his shoulder, winked, added,
"But that nightgown
certainly is," and then disappeared from
sight.
With a mortified squeak, Alex
buried her face in her hands.
Maybe, just maybe, Hope quickly
suggested, he hadn't really
seen anything before she'd
pulled the coverlet over her.
Checking the open doorway with
a nervous glance, she took
a deep breath and slid to the
edge of the mattress again. The
opposite one this time. The
side nearest her dressing-table
mirror.
"God," she moaned,
knowing there was no point in
scooping up the coverlet to see
how fast she could hide herself.
A single moment-a mere fraction
of a moment - would
have been more than enough.
Gossamer silk didn't
hide a thing. And the cinnabar
shading only made the curves
and the peaks of her breasts
all that much darker, all that
much more noticeable. Her only
remaining hope, tattered
and slim as it was, was that
her nipples hadn't been hardened
then as they were now.
Flannel. She needed to make
herself a nightgown of thick,
heavy flannel.
In
black.
With buttons all the way up to her
chin. And then pray that he'd
have a chance-just once-to
see it and realize that she
wasn't a complete wanton.
Aiden blew a stream of cheroot
smoke into the fading daylight
and considered his
accomplishments. By any standard
of measurement the day had been
an absolute success on almost
every single front. The one
less-than-sterling achievement
He glanced toward the enclosure
he'd fashioned
out of poles and a huge
fisherman's net. Inside were the peacocks,
hale, apparently happy, and, to
his irritation, very
much alive. Whoever had
originally thought to clip their
wings should have been shot.
And the sound the damn things
made at first light ... Jesus.
He'd come straight up off his
bed, scrambling for his
revolver and thinking that Mohan
was being murdered by inches in
the back yard.
How Alex had managed to sleep
through it was a mystery.
So was the fact that the
neighbors hadn't stormed the yard
and, in the name of public
peace and order, dispatched the obnoxious
beasts. He'd sure as hell been
tempted. But he hadn't.
No, he'd gotten Preeya feed
grain from the stable before he'd
left and then built the pen
when he'd returned.
Aiden sighed, shook his head,
and deliberately set it all
aside, reminding himself that
the positive notes in the day's
ledger had considerably
'
more
weight than a pair of
pea
cocks.