It was amazing how much the love of family could cure and repair. Vienne had spent so many years blaming herself. It hadn’t mattered when Trystan told her she was wrong—well, it had mattered, but not as much as when Marguerite said it, or as when Marguerite asked for
her
forgiveness.
In a way, she felt like a new woman. And this woman realized how foolish she had been to push Trystan away. He was the brightest part of her life. He made her feel whole, made her feel as though nothing else mattered so long as they were together. Aline was right: it was time she told him that, before she lost him forever—if she hadn’t already.
No, she wouldn’t think of that. She hadn’t lost him. She couldn’t have.
Her gaze sought him out and found him easily—as though some secret compass inside her was pulled to him. He was so very attractive in his evening clothes, his hair a little too long so that it fell over his brow into his eyes. There was a boyish quality to his smile that she found devastating, something about his face that made her want to stare at it forever, though not a classically handsome face.
He wore so much of his emotions on his face, in those eyes. Perhaps that was the appeal, or perhaps love made the object of that love perfect in the eye of the beholder. Because to her, Trystan was perfection on legs, even if he did know exactly how to provoke her.
“Hold this,” she said, shoving her almost empty glass at her sister. Aline took it with a chuckle.
Vienne touched her hair to make certain it was still perfect, smoothed her gown, squared her shoulders. Then, courage gathered, she moved toward Trystan with purposeful strides. He was talking to his brothers, a detail that threatened to bow her shoulders, but she would not let the disproval of the elder Kane men deter her.
“Lord Trystan, I wonder if we might speak for a moment?” How calm
and
sweet she sounded!
Three pairs of eerily similar yet completely different eyes turned to her. His Grace’s gaze was cool, Lord Archer’s cool, and Trystan’s . . . his was curious with the slightest glint of pleasure. He was happy to see her—happy that she had come to him.
“Of course,” he replied. “I’m sure my brothers will excuse me.”
They said they would, and bowed their heads to Vienne before turning and walking away. Vienne watched Archer lean into the duke, no doubt speculating as to what Vienne might say or do to their precious younger brother.
She had been reminded what it was to be a younger sibling over these last few days. She knew the love and the thorns of it. There was no escaping it, for older siblings would always treat younger ones as though they were children in some way and try to protect them from the world. It was love, no matter how infuriating it might be.
“You wanted to talk?” His tone was low, a little cool. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her, and she didn’t blame him.
“Let’s go to the office,” she suggested.
He followed her through the great hall toward the back and behind the staircase, where a small room had been set aside as an office for both of them. She supposed it was hers alone now, as he had sold much of his ownership to his brothers.
It was a comfortable space, decorated in shades of cream and sage with dark oak furniture upholstered in fabric with touches of gold and crimson. The desk was large, but not pretentious, elegantly carved without being gaudy, as was the taste these days.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asked as soon as they crossed the threshold. Was he eager to be out of her company? No, she wouldn’t believe that.
“Two things,” she replied, pausing to gather her courage again. Honestly, this man flustered her to no end sometimes. “First I want to apologize for my behavior when you brought my sisters and my mother to me. I was shocked and afraid, but that is no excuse for the way I spoke to you. I hope you will forgive me?”
“Of course. How are relations between the four of you? Good, I hope.”
She couldn’t hide her happiness—why should she? “Yes. Talking to them has given me so much . . . perspective. I feel as though a huge burden has been lifted from me. It’s very liberating.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” And he meant it. His sincerity was blatant. “What is the second thing?”
“I’d like to propose a wager.”
He scrunched up his eyes. “Vienne, it’s late . . .”
“One game.” Lord, she sounded desperate.
He nodded wearily. “All right, fine. What stakes?”
“If I win I get your shares of Trystienne’s.”
He didn’t seem terribly surprised by the suggestion, so she could only assume he expected her to try to buy him out. “And if I win?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
His eyebrows slowly rose. “Whatever I want?”
“Have you ever noticed how often you and I repeat what the other has said? I feel as though we are a pair of those birds that talk. Yes, whatever you want.”
“You don’t want me to decide before we play?”
She waved a hand. “Why bother? You’re not going to win, so there’s no need.” She almost believed her bravado. “Come, let’s sit.”
They sat across from one another at the low table. Trystan shuffled and dealt out cards. They played as they had that night at Angelwood’s. Was he thinking of that as well? Of how they’d groped and strained at each other in a room where anyone might have seen them, but they were too swept away by passion for a moment to care? Yes, she’d bet he was.
“Do you still think about me?” she asked in a low voice as they played. She was already ahead. She didn’t look up, but she felt his sharp glance.
“Yes,” he replied. “Though I know I shouldn’t admit to it.”
“What if I were to confess that I think of you as well? Would that make it easier for you, do you think?”
“It does indeed.” There was a faint hoarseness to his voice. “You shouldn’t ask me such questions or tell me such things, not when you’ve made it clear that there is nothing between us.”
“I don’t recall ever saying there was nothing between us. I believe I said I was too much of a mess for there to be anything, and you agreed and called me broken.”
He winced. “I apologize for that.”
“You were right. What if I told you I am starting to feel as though all my broken pieces are slowly gluing themselves back together?”
He didn’t look up from his cards, but she could see a faint flush in his cheeks. “If that were the case, then I would be very happy for you indeed.
Damn,
woman. Do you have a horseshoe in your bodice?”
She chuckled. “I have always been extremely lucky.” That was true to an extent, after all she had been given another chance not only with her family but with Trystan. He was her good-luck charm. But now it was time for her to stop being so lucky and to let Trystan’s “luck” take over. For the first time in her life, Vienne was playing not to win, but to lose.
And lose she did—rather splendidly at that. She lost so well, that Trystan sat there for a moment, staring at the tally as though he couldn’t quite believe it. Oh dear, had she taken it too far? It didn’t matter, he had won and now she needed to set her plan in motion.
“Before you tell me what you want, there’s something you must hear.” She took a breath. “I need you to run Trystienne’s with me.”
He gathered up the cards and put them away. “I’m no longer a partner, Vienne. I don’t own fifty percent.”
She reached over and placed her hand on top of one of his larger, darker ones. “You will always be my partner, Trystan. It does not matter how much you own—I will share my half with you.”
He went completely still. “Why would you do that?”
She tilted her head. “Don’t you know?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Because I love you, you foolish man.”
Trystan froze. It would have been comical if she wasn’t so afraid that the expression on his face was one of horror and not happiness. “You love me?”
She nodded. “Now that you know, does that at all influence what you want as your prize for winning our game?”
He blinked. Honestly, she had never seen him before in such an unsettled state. And then, it was like someone pulled all of the confusion out of his head and out of his expression. The fog lifted, and he turned to her with a bright, determined gaze. She held her breath.
“It does,” he replied. “I was going to be completely shameless and ask for one more night with you.” Her heart skipped a beat. “But now I want something entirely different.”
Was that a good answer or a bad one? “What?”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I would like for you to propose to me.”
Elation and confusion smashed together in Vienne’s head. Was this a joke or was he serious? “As in marriage?”
He nodded. “Exactly that.”
“Isn’t that normally the man’s responsibility? He asks the woman he loves to marry him.” Was this a twisted way of saying he didn’t feel the same way for her?
Trystan took a step closer, narrowing the gap between them to just a few inches. “Yes, but I’m not certain what the woman I love will say if I ask her. This way if she asks me, I know the answer will be yes.”
As the implication of his words sank in, joy trilled through her veins. She had to be grinning like a simpleton. Arranging her skirts, she sank down to one knee before him, strangely aware in her happiness that it was a very sexually suggestive pose.
They’d get to that later.
“Lord Trystan Kane, would you do me the great honor of consenting to be my wedded husband?”
The infuriating man actually took a moment—as though he had to consider it! A lopsided grin tilted his lips. “Why, Madame La Rieux, how unexpected and exciting. I would be delighted to marry you.”
She would have rolled her eyes at his silliness if she weren’t just so very, very happy. “Really?” With his help, she rose to her feet. “You want to marry me even though there will be times when I’m competitive, ill tempered, and bull-headed?”
“Yes, I do.”
She smiled, still not quite believing her good luck. “Even though I’m a pessimist oftentimes, and can behave irrationally?”
He put his arms around her. “Oddly enough, yes.”
Vienne raised her face to look at him. His gorgeous eyes sparkled like sapphires in the low light. “Trystan, reuniting with my family has helped me put the past where it belongs, but it’s difficult for me to suddenly change twenty years of habits.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to be easy, my sweetness.”
“There are going to be times when I’m a madwoman, when I doubt your feelings and my own. When I think I’m not good enough for you.”
Gentle fingers came up to caress her cheek. “There will be times when I am mad and doubtful as well. Part of marriage is helping each other through those times. No one is perfect, and love doesn’t mean we won’t ever fight or despair. It means wanting one person by your side for the rest of your days—good and bad. A bad day with you is still better than a good day with anyone else. So yes, I will marry you and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
He kissed her then, before she could say anything else. There really wasn’t anything to say. He accepted her for who she was. He always had—she had just been afraid back then. She wasn’t afraid anymore, and while it would be difficult to change how she thought and felt about her past, having her family with her again made it easier. She felt worthy of happiness she never would have dreamed of before this.
She felt worthy of Trystan. It didn’t matter that he was younger or that he came from a noble family. The class difference between them had only ever been a superficial obstacle because, while she might doubt that she was good enough for Trystan, she knew for a fact that she was just as good as any lady.
“Vienne?”
“Oui?”
She missed his lips already.
“Did you let me win?”
She only smiled, and pulled his head down to hers once more—this time so she could kiss him. His arms tightened around her, lifting her off her feet as they smiled against each other’s mouths. Laughter didn’t ruin the kiss, it only made it better. Vienne reveled in the joy, knowing that she and Trystan were partners in every sense of the word, and that they always would be.
KATHRYN SMITH
My husband says I have the best job in the world. The only thing that could top being paid to do what I love is if Avon Books decided that all their authors had to be hand-fed chocolate by Hugh Jackman, Gerard Butler, or John Cusack. But my husband probably wouldn’t think so much of my job then, so instead I’ll let him feed me chocolate and go on being forever thankful that I have the best job—and husband—in the world.
Please visit my website at www.kathryn-smith.com.
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When Tempting a Rogue
When Marrying a Scoundrel
Dark Side of Dawn
When Seducing a Duke
Night After Night
Before I Wake
Let the Night Begin
Taken By the Night
Night of the Huntress
Be Mine Tonight
Still in My Heart
In the Night
In Your Arms Again
For the First Time
Into Temptation
A Game of Scandal
A Seductive Offer
Elusive Passion