When Tempting a Rogue (20 page)

“Of course not,” her friend replied with more than a touch of sarcasm. “Who would?”

With a sigh, Sadie plopped down beside her. “You have feelings for him?”

Removing her hand, Vienne narrowed her eyes. “Of course I do. I’m not entirely a heartless predator.”

“Committee’s still out on that one, dearest.” Her expression turned sympathetic. “Oh, Vienne. You cannot seem to help yourself where he is concerned.”

“No,” she admitted. “I cannot. I wanted him and I have him, and I’m going to enjoy having him for as long as it lasts.”

“And if he wants more than just an affair?”

It wasn’t “just” an affair. They were partners. “I see no reason why we can’t go forward as lovers.”

“Men like him cannot be satisfied with a lover, Vienne. They want wives to share their lives with.”

Vienne knew she spoke from experience. Sadie had thought to give Jack up when he inherited his grandfather’s title and became a viscount, but Jack would have none of it. He could have found himself a fancy wife, but he wanted Sadie. Vienne thought the better of him for it.

But what if she was right? What if Trystan wanted more than she could give? And just how much was that? A few weeks ago, she would have had a ready answer. But now . . . now she only knew that she would fight anyone who tried to take him away; and if he told her tomorrow that he was to be married, it would break her heart. How fitting that she, who had hurt him so badly so long ago, was now in a position to have the same done to her.

She wouldn’t allow it. She would leave him before she risked her heart. It wasn’t that she was afraid—well, perhaps a little—but she had been through that pain and betrayal. She could not stand to offer herself and be hurt or, worse, have someone offer himself to her and find herself unable to love him. Because that was part of the deeper issue: she didn’t know if there was any love left in her to give; and if there was, and she gave it and got crushed in return, she truly would be nothing more than an empty, unwanted shell.

Isn’t that what Marcel had said to her? That there was nothing about her that was lovable except perhaps her female parts. She was too vain and too selfish. Just all around less of a woman than she should be.

Others had seen this in her. She knew because many men had told her what a bitch she was, or how cold and unfeeling. She wasn’t whole—and Trystan deserved better.

But it was a lovely fantasy, thinking of the two of them together, in a perfect world where she wasn’t past her prime and could give herself to someone without fear of being rejected. She always left first, that way she was never the one cast aside.

“Vienne?”

She blinked and looked up. Sadie watched her strangely. “You wandered off.”

“My apologies, my friend. My thoughts ran away with me. Yes, I know Trystan wants a wife. His mother has been pushing him to find one.”

“And he hasn’t.”

“No.” That gave her so much more joy than she would admit.

“Because of you.”

She refused to take the blame. “Because he has not fallen in love.”

Sadie tilted her head to one side. It was astounding that her enormous hat didn’t force her head to keep going. “Has he not?”

Vienne laughed in disbelief. “Of course not. Trystan is a sweet, wonderful man, but he is not stupid, Sadie. He knows falling in love with me would be a horrible idea. Believe me, if anyone knows better than to offer me his heart, it is Trystan Kane.”

So why the bitter taste in her mouth? Why the sudden anger twisting in her soul? She was angry . . . angry at herself for not being what he wanted. Not being good enough for the only man who made her feel like, perhaps . . . well, feel as though she was good enough for him after all.

“I know you mean well,” she said to her friend, “but I don’t want to discuss Trystan or our relationship right now.”

“All right.” Sadie took a pin from her hat and remove the large accessory. “But you did sleep with him?”

Vienne nodded. “If you must know—yes. I did.”

Sadie grinned—a wide flash of straight teeth. “How was it?”

“Did I not just tell you I didn’t want to talk about him?”

Her friend rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to know how you feel about it, I just want the sordid details. I told you about Jack. Eventually.”

There would be no peace unless she divulged at least something, and truth be told she wanted to tell. She wanted to giggle over it like a foolish young girl, and blush over the details. “It was amazing,” she confessed, giving into the temptation. “Oh, Sadie. I have never known a man who compares to Trystan.”

Sadie’s big eyes grew even wider. “Honestly? Not one?”

Vienne could take offense at the suggestion that she’d had a number of lovers, but she didn’t. It was true, she had known many men in the biblical sense, but to deny that would diminish Trystan’s talents. “Not a one.” She chuckled. “How did you guess that I spent the night with him? Did you see it in your leaves?”

“Not at all. It wasn’t hard to surmise. You have this slightly idiotic look to you, like you could get kicked by a horse and it wouldn’t hurt.”

Kicked by a horse. Trystan had likened how she would feel after her fall to such a thing. She was still tender and a little stiff from it. Then again, she was a little tender from last night—and this morning. Just the thought of it was enough to make her tingle inside. “I’m fairly certain it would hurt a great deal. However, I will admit to feeling more relaxed today than I have in a very long time. Now, why don’t we retire to my apartments and see what delights Cook has prepared for us. You can help me select a gown for this evening.”

“Oh?” Sadie asked, as she picked up her hat and joined Vienne in quitting the room. “Are you doing something particularly special?”

Vienne grinned.
“Someone.”

They laughed all the way to the stairs.

F
ollowing a brief meeting with Grey concerning several of his investments, Trystan joined his brother for a brandy in his study. After all, he had some time before he had to meet the Scotland Yard man with Vienne.

The thought of her brought a smile to his face.

They had just sat down when Archer arrived. He strolled into the room looking dapper in a dark gray suit, even if he was slightly bleary-eyed. God only knew what he had gotten himself up to the night before.

“Good day, my dear brothers”—and helped himself to a glass of brandy—“I do hope I’m interrupting a terribly boring conversation.”

“You are indeed,” Grey replied. “We were just talking about you.”

Archer made a face, his gaze flitting between the two of them before he sat down on the loveseat across from the sofa where Trystan sat. Grey was in a large wingback to the side.

“Are you certain you weren’t discussing the fact that Trystan has fallen prey to La Rieux again?”

“What?” Trystan and Grey both exclaimed. “Where in the hell did you hear that?” And Trystan scowled.

“There’s speculation all over town,” Archer replied nonchalantly. “I didn’t pay heed to any of it, of course, not until I walked in here and saw that moony-eyed look on your face. Christ, man! You might as well wear a sign around your neck that reads, Recently Well-Shagged.”

Trystan opened his mouth to protest, not completely certain how to phrase it, but was interrupted by Grey, who shot him a very pointed look.

“Is it true?” his eldest brother demanded, his eyes flat as pewter.

If ever there was a good time in his life to lie to his brothers, now would be it. Just like the time he lied about breaking their mother’s favorite vase when he was but eleven. Of course, she figured out the truth when he bought her a replacement with the first bit of money he earned on his own, but that was beside the point.

“My personal life is none of your damn business,” he retorted instead.

The Duke of Ryeton had always been a good brother, but a protective one. Telling him that something wasn’t his business was akin to waving a red flag in front of a bull. As far as he was concerned, everything that happened to any member of his family, no matter how minute or intimate, was
his
business.

And of course he always knew when his younger siblings were trying to hide something. “It is true . . . Christ on a bicycle, boy,” Grey said. “Have you not a lick of sense?”

Trystan clenched his jaw. “I’m
not
a boy.”

“No,”
Archer agreed amiably. “You’re an
idiot
.”

“That’s a bit of the pot and the kettle, don’t you think?” he shot back.

“Why in God’s name would you get involved with her when you know it will lead to no good?” Grey demanded. “Are you looking for revenge?”

“No!” Good Lord, what was it with people thinking he wanted vengeance on Vienne? Even in the throes of heartbreak, he hadn’t wanted revenge. He only ever wanted her to see him as special and to regret she had treated him shabbily. “Look, Vienne and I are different people now. I’m a grown man I can be involved with whomever I want.”

“Until we have to pick you up and slap you back together again,” Archer remarked with more venom than Trystan had ever heard him use. “If she breaks your heart, you will have no one but yourself to blame.”

He nodded. “I know, and that’s a risk I’m prepared to take. She’s the one, Arch.”

His brother drained his glass in one gulp. “Deliver me from such drama.”

“Leave him alone, Arch,” Grey ordered, leveling an unreadable gaze at Trystan. “He’s right. It’s his life and his decision. If La Rieux is what he wants, then we should respect him enough to know what he’s getting into.”

“He’s already gotten into it,” Archer replied hotly. “That’s the problem.”

Trystan sighed. “Look, I appreciate that the two of you don’t want to see me get hurt. But if I don’t at least try to win her heart, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

His brothers exchanged glances. Archer shrugged. “Fine. I suppose I understand regret.”

Grey nodded. “As do I. We support you in this Tryst. We don’t like it, but we will stand by your decision.”

“Even if it is frigging idiotic,” Archer added.

Trystan smiled. Vienne was right, he was lucky to have two brothers who cared so much about him. “Thank you.”

A knock at the door further diminished the tension between the three of them. It was Rose, looking lovely in a pale blue gown that made her skin glow prettily—or perhaps it was her pregnancy that caused the inner light. She wasn’t far along—barely a couple of months—and hadn’t yet begun to show. Grey lit up like a candle when he saw her. Lucky bastard, he was.

If a man like Grey, who at one time was as debauched as they come, could settle down, surely a woman like Vienne could as well. He knew it wasn’t a fair comparison, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that he might persuade Vienne to take a chance on love just as Rose had persuaded his brother.

“Hello, boys,” she greeted with a smile. “My apologies, but I’m ravenous and Cook has prepared a tea to feed an army. Would you care to join me?”

Since none of the Kane boys ever lacked in appetite, the three of them agreed and rose to their feet. Rose turned her doe eyes in Trystan’s direction. He watched as those big eyes got even bigger.

“Trystan.” Her voice had a strange stiffness to it. “You look in good spirits today.”

“I am, thank you.”

But she wasn’t done with him. She seemed to study him, her earnest gaze traveling over ever pore in his face. Then she stood back with her hands on her hips and beamed at him. “You’re in love!” She clapped her hands. “
Oh,
won’t your mama be so excited!”

“Whoa!”
Grey barked as Trystan and Archer protested as well. “You do not say a word of this to Mama, Rose.”

“God, no,” Archer joined in.

Grey’s duchess was obviously confused, but there came a moment when understanding dawned, and she turned to Trystan with a look that could only be described as pleasantly shrewd. “It’s Madame La Rieux, isn’t it? I knew it! Eve said she thought you were going to make an offer for Annalise Beaumont, but I knew your affections were engaged elsewhere.”

Archer peered over her head at Trystan. “She knew.”

Trystan rubbed the back of his neck. He was beginning to develop a headache. “Rose, this really isn’t something I want to talk about.”

She looked disappointed. “But I’m your sister-in-law.”

Grey took her hand in his and smiled gently. “That doesn’t make you his confessor, darling.”

She was unconvinced, turning a bright smile on Trystan once again. “I’m female. I can help. I can give you advice as to the best way to court someone like Madame La Rieux.”

“No,” Grey told her. “You can’t. But I can.”

Trystan started. This was a switch. A new tactic, perhaps, to persuade him to change his mind? . . .
“You?”

“Of course . . . I’ve often thought La Rieux and I were very similar underneath the skin—kindred spirits of a sort.”