Aiden said softly, releasing her
hand to offer his arm instead.
"He isn't going to hurt anything."
''Other than himself,"
she protested as she accepted his
assistance and her ward
disappeared into the maze of wheels
and big black boxes.
"Boys not only bounce,
they heal quickly. Besides, the
only way he'll ever know his
limits is to push them." He
looked over his shoulder as he
led her off toward the carriages.
"Please wait for us,
driver."
''And if he hurts
himself in the
process?" Alex pressed,
trying and failing to catch a
glimpse of Mohan.
''Then he'll have something
interesting to talk about with
other boys. Never
underestimate the social value of a good
scar. The grislier, the
better."
"Men are very strange
creatures, Mr. Terrell."
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
hand to offer his arm instead.
"He isn't going to hurt anything."
''Other than himself,"
she protested as she accepted his
assistance and her ward
disappeared into the maze of wheels
and big black boxes.
"Boys not only bounce,
they heal quickly. Besides, the
only way he'll ever know his
limits is to push them." He
looked over his shoulder as he
led her off toward the carriages.
"Please wait for us,
driver."
''And if he hurts
himself in the
process?" Alex pressed,
trying and failing to catch a
glimpse of Mohan.
''Then he'll have something
interesting to talk about with
other boys. Never
underestimate the social value of a good
scar. The grislier, the
better."
"Men are very strange
creatures, Mr. Terrell."
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
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