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

thick sable hair and eyes as gray as a thundercloud. She was fashionably dressed, but not overly so. Neither was she heavily made up. Clearly she was a woman who understood the art of subtlety. When she offered her hand, Trystan bowed over it.
    “Mrs. Lake, I beg your pardon for barging in on you like this.” He glanced at the man who reclined on the sofa. The arse hadn’t so much as sat up at the arrival of company. Trystan wasn’t terribly offended. No doubt the bullet Vienne had put into Mr. Jones afforded him quite a bit of discomfort.
    “No apology is necessary, I assure you,” his hostess replied. “Will you sit?”
    He held up a hand. “Thank you, but I won’t stay long. I wanted to inquire after Mr. Jones’s health.”
    The lady looked surprised, as did her patient. “That’s very kind of you, sir.”
    “Kindness has nothing to do with it,” he replied with a smile, which faded as he turned his attention to Jones. “Winged you, did she?”
    Jones scowled, but his gaze didn’t quite focus as it met Trystan’s. Laudanum, no doubt. “Bitch wanted to kill me.”
    “William,” Mrs. Lake admonished. “Language.”
    Jones swore—a foul, harsh word that brought a dark stain of humiliation to his lover’s fair skin.
    Trystan’s ire rose. “That’s no way to speak to a lady.”
    Jones snarled at him. “I’ll speak how I goddamn well please, and I hope that slut La Rieux gets the pox.”
    Trystan turned to Mrs. Lake. “My dear madam, you have my sincere condolences. I believe your generous nature has been abused in the most grievous manner.”
    The lady’s blush deepened. It was obvious that she kept Jones, just as it was obvious that she could do much better.
    “Perhaps you are right, Mr. Kane,” she replied in a low tone. “I will leave the two of you to your discussion. Good day.”
    He bowed to her, and watched as she escaped from the room with as much dignity as she could muster. Her spine was so rigid, he thought she might never bend again.
    The moment the door clicked shut behind her, he approached the sofa on which Jones had himself propped up on several cushions. His right arm was in a sling. He was young—younger than Trystan by about five years at least. Vienne seemed to have a penchant for men in their early twenties.
    “There’s talk of an inquiry into your shooting.” He kept his tone light. Conversational.
    Jones shifted on the cushions, wincing when his shoulder moved the wrong way. “Good. The bitch tried to kill me.”
    Trystan chuckled. “ Son , if Vienne La Rieux wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. She was trying to teach you a lesson.”
    “I’ll teach her a lesson, the bitch. Thinks she can command me to her bed whenever she wants, then say no?”
    A strange bitter feeling rose in Trystan’s chest—a foul taste in his mouth. “Yes,” he said, “that’s exactly what she can do. You obviously don’t lack in feminine companionship.”
    Jones glanced up at him, a sloppy smirk curving his lips. How could anyone think this piece of shite was attractive? What did women see in him other than his youth? He had to be extremely well endowed, because he certainly wasn’t charming. “You’ve had her too, haven’t you? Then you know just how sweet that honey pot between her white thighs is. A man could die happy buried to the hilt in Vienne La Rieux.”
    “She should have aimed lower,” Trystan muttered, then loudly said, “Look, Jones. You’re not going to take any action against Vienne La Rieux, lawful or otherwise.”
    The younger man scowled, looking like a petulant, drunken cherub. “Now, see here. That bitch— Ow! ”
    Trystan had gripped Jones by the shoulder, digging his thumb into the spot where he estimated the bullet tore into his flesh. Then he bent down so no one but the now-fully alert bastard could hear him. “You see here, you little prick. You deserve what you got. You deserve worse than that for trying to force yourself on a woman, your lover or