The Perfect Temptation (32 page)

reminded herself as he settled
into the nest of pillows beside

her. Like all big cats, Aiden
Terrell enjoyed the hunt too

much to be willingly, completely
domesticated. She'd do

well to keep that bit of reality
in the forefront of her awareness.

And she'd be equally well served
if she could manage

to keep both her gaze genuinely
fixed on the kittens and their

conversation lively and light.

"It
occurs to me," she ventured, trailing a fingertip
along

a fuzzy little spine, "that
you know considerably more about

me than I do about you."

"So tell me about yourself,
Aiden Terrell?" he supplied,

cradling his head in his hand and
mercifully allowing the

front of his shirt to drape over
his chest.

"Yes, please." She
risked meeting his gaze to add, "Graphic

details aren't necessary, of
course."

His smile was instant and as
wicked as the devil dancing

in his eyes. "Well, if I
leave out the more sordid and debauched

parts, there's really not all
that much left to tell. I'm

the oldest of twelve children."

"Twelve?" she repeated,
tearing her gaze away, a little

embarrassed by how easily he
could make her heart race.

He
knew his limits and watching Alex stroke the kittens

was well beyond them. He rolled
onto his back, cradling his

head in his hands and pinning his
gaze safely on the ceiling.

"Six sisters, five
brothers," he supplied. "My parents believe

in order and careful planning. I
was educated by the best private

tutors money could buy and with
an eye always on the

fact that I would someday take
the helm of the family business.

I'm excessively educated,
actually. And truth be told, I

hated every minute in the
schoolroom. I figure-if I'm truly

fortunate-I'll be disinherited
someday soon. I've certainly

been working on it anyway. Quite
diligently as a matter of

fact."

She settled more comfortably into
the pillows, saying,

"Your family ... Do they
live in London?"

"No. St. Kitts. In the
Leeward Islands."

"The Caribbean Ocean? That's
as far west of here as India

is east. How on earth did you end
up in London.?"

"The family business is
shipping. Mostly in the Atlantic.

A few years ago my father brought
the entire family here so

that I and my three next youngest
siblings could accept delivery

of four ships he'd commissioned.
One was delayed in

the yards and I stayed behind to
wait for it. While idling

away my days and nights, I met
Carden and Barrett."

"Are you still waiting for
the ship to be finished?"

If
only. "I accepted delivery just over two years
ago," he

answered,
"and
sailed it
home like a good and dutiful son."

"So you're not just a
sailor, you're a ship's captain."

"Part owner, too."

"I'm sure Mohan would love
to see your ship sometime."

It
was more question than statement. A request for what

she obviously considered a large
favor. "Well, that would be

rather difficult," he
admitted ruefully. "I managed to very effectively

sink it a year and a half
ago."

"Oh." Disappointment.
Hope bloomed again as she

asked, ''And are you back in
London now to take delivery of

another vessel?"

All he had to do was say yes and
they'd move on to another

subject.
It
would be a
lie but she'd never know it. He

didn't have to be honest with
her. And Lord knew that the

truth wasn't at all flattering.
"I'm in London because it was

as far as I could stumble before
I fell flat on my face."

"You don't strike me as the
sort of man who stumbles

very often, Aiden."

He chuckled darkly. "But
when I do, it's done in a grand

way."

"What happened? Was it the
loss of the ship?" she

pressed gently. "Is that why
your father's angry at you?"

Angry? He rolled his eyes.
"Livid might be more accurate."

"Surely, if he's been in the
shipping business for any

length of time, he knows that
sometimes accidents happen,

that ships are lost through no
fault of the captain or the

crew."

"And sometimes," he
added, "they're lost because the

captain does something
unforgivably stupid."

"What did you do?"

So soft, so caring.
If
he changed
the subject, she wouldn't

protest.
If
he handed
her a lie, she'd realize it, but accept it

because it would be the kindest
thing to do. "As you've no

doubt heard, the Americans have
been having a bloody setto

between themselves for the last
few years. The northern

states have thrown a naval
blockade around the southern

ones. I tried to run it."

"For
any particular reason?"

"In hindsight it wasn't a
good one."

She was searching his face, he
could feel the tender caress

of her gaze. He decided that he
had no choice except to

tell her everything. He'd come
this far and she deserved to

know the rest. "Her name was
Mary Alice Randolph
.
Of the

South Carolina Randolphs. She'd
been in London since the

start of their war and wanted to
go home to Charleston. And

I wanted her to marry me, so I
promised to get her there." He

had to swallow and take a deep
breath before he could force

the final truth of it out.
"She was killed in the first barrage we

took. She was gone by the time I
could get to her. I didn't get

to say good-bye."

Alex felt her heart tear.
"Oh, Aiden," she whispered,

fighting back tears as she touched
his arm, hoping to comfort

him in some small way. "I'm
so very sorry. How deeply

you must hurt. And how horrible
your regrets must be."

He rolled onto his side and met
her gaze squarely. His

brows knitted as an unsettling
mix of sadness and wonder

darkened his eyes. "You're
the only person who's ever said

that to me, Alex. The only
one." Then he leaned forward to

graze her forehead with a kiss as
he murmured, ''Thank

you."

She didn't know what to say, what
to do. Which was, she

realized as he settled back on
his side, how she usually felt

when around Aiden. Always at
something of a loss, always

off kilter and uncertain. And
yet, in the oddest way,
it
wasn't

a disconcerting feeling. Under
the confusion was an unshakable

sense that he wouldn't let her flounder
or make a fool of

herself.

"Anyway," he went on, a
reassuring degree of buoyancy

back in his voice, "I
managed-largely through miserable

luck-to survive the assault and
the sinking. Those of us left

were pulled out of the water,
thrown into a hold, hauled to

New York, and processed as
foreign enemy combatants.
It

took six months and cost my
father a fortune to ransom us

out of the Union prison."

"But I'm sure your parents
were relieved to have you

home again, safe and sound,"
she offered, hoping to take his

memory down a happier path.

His laugh was
dry
and
mirthless. ''The joyful family reunion

lasted all of fifteen seconds.
Somewhere in the midst

of the roaring lecture that
followed, I walked out the door

and haven't looked back."

She wasn't doing this at all
well, but she felt an obligation

to keep trying, to keep hoping
that she could make him feel

better. "What made you
decide to come back to London? To

be with your friends?" .

This time there was, blessedly, a
hint of real amusement

in his chuckle. "I honestly
don't know. I can't tell you how I

got here, either. The last four
weeks have been the longest

stretch of time since that day
that I've been sober. I can only

guess that at some point I
decided to get as far away from

my father as I could and headed
this way. And as I said, I got

this far before I fell down and
didn't care enough to get up

and keep moving."

"The favor you owe Barrett
Stanbridge ... The one that

led you to accept the task of
protecting Mohan ... Is
it
for

his insistence that you stop
drinking?"

"He said that a year was
long enough for any man to soak

in misery. That's one of the very
few things he's said to me

in recent weeks that I can repeat
in the presence of a lady. I

wasn't inclined to think of him
as a friend for a while, but

I'm beginning to see that perhaps
he's right."

"I'm glad he intervened to
bring you up short.
If
he hadn't,

I'd be at the mercy of those two
men right now."

"If
I hadn't been here," he said solemnly,
"you'd be dead

right now, Alex."

''Then I'm especially
appreciative of your newfound sobriety."

He should be gallant.
Self-effacing. Actually, he really

should get up and leave. But he
couldn't. In the soft flickering

light she was so exotic, so
deliciously tempting. Her

dark hair framed a face that
wasn't as English fair as it was

softly kissed by a distant,
foreign
sun.
Her eyes were dark;

not blue, not green, not gray.
They were sultry shadows,

inviting him to search for
answers to ancient mysteries, to

discover treasures beyond
compare. No, he wasn't about to