Read Online When Tempting a Rogue by Kathryn Smith - Free Book Online Page B

really didn’t care what the woman’s name was. He snagged a glass of champagne from a passing footman’s tray and downed it in one gulp in time to deposit it on another.
    He ran into Vienne on his way out, just as she was coming in, still wearing that gorgeous gown that molded to her like a layer of brilliant skin. “Trystan,” she said a little breathlessly—a tone that brought back so many arousing and heartbreaking memories. “I want to talk to you.”
    “Tomorrow,” he told her, barely stopping. “Let’s meet at the site around two and we’ll discuss how to best incorporate the new plans. Now, please excuse me, I have another engagement.”
    He left her there, staring after him. That gave him some measure of satisfaction. Let her try to explain herself tomorrow, in the harsh light of day when both of them were sober and completely aware—and undoubtedly mortified—about this night. He looked forward to it.
    But for now, he was going to go to a high-class brothel to find a woman who was the exact opposite of Vienne La Rieux.
    And he was going to shag her senseless.
    S he should know better than to drink wine. She always woke up with a headache that lingered throughout the day.
    Vienne sat at her desk with a pile of papers in front of her and, to her right, a cup of tea with a headache powder dissolved in it. The tea masked most of the bitter taste, but occasionally she took a sip that made her shudder as soon as the medicine hit her tongue.
    “Madame La Rieux?”
    She glanced up. Her secretary stood in the doorway. “Yes, Victor? What is it?”
    The effeminate young man looked a little nervous. “The Duke of Ryeton is here to see you, ma’am.”
    Ryeton, at this hour? Why, it was just passed eleven. Most aristocrats were still abed. “Show him in.”
    She rose to her feet, wishing she’d had time to consult a mirror. She absolutely abhorred looking anything less than her best when important people came to call—not for their benefit, oh no. Her appearance was her armor, and she despised showing any chinks in it.
    The duke swept in like the force of nature that he was. He was one of those noblemen who lived life exactly as he wanted and had paid the price on several occasions—the wicked scar marring the left side of his rugged face was one such consequence. There was a family resemblance between Greyden Kane and his youngest brother, more so now that Trystan had returned, but the duke was larger and more rugged. Truth be told, Vienne found him somewhat intimidating and at the same time a kindred spirit—for both he and she would do whatever they had to in order to achieve their goals.
    And judging from the look on His Grace’s face, Vienne was an obstacle in his path.
    “Your Grace.” Somehow she managed to keep her voice normal. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
    Cold gray-blue eyes locked with hers. “Last night my brother Trystan stormed out of here as if the hounds of Hades were snapping at his heels.”
    “Did he?” She was all surprise and apologetic ignorance. “I am sorry to hear that.”
    The duke shrugged. “I understand a single man’s enthusiasm where a trip to Chez Cherie’s is concerned, but I think there was more to it than that.”
    Vienne swallowed, trying to force her heart out of her throat and back into her chest, where it belonged. Trystan had gone to a brothel ? He wouldn’t take what she freely offered, but he would pay a whore? Oh, that stung. Did he know he was the first man to ever refuse her?—to make her doubt her appeal as a woman? The first to see through her machinations.
    Oh, how she loathed the thought of him taking solace in the body of another. She had gone to bed tipsy, regretful . . . and unsatisfied, while he—
    “I don’t see what this has to do with me,” she quickly remarked, lifting her chin.
    His Grace tilted his head to one side in contemplation. It was as though he could see right into the soul of her. “Let us not play