Free When Tempting a Rogue by Kathryn Smith

games, Madame La Rieux. It’s an insult to us both. I know this happened immediately after meeting with you. Whatever happened in this room last night made Trystan behave like Archer—or worse, like me. Seeing as how my youngest sibling is the best my family’s had to offer in three generations, I’d like to know just what you did to him.”
    “I did nothing.” Only offered myself on a platter! And what did she get for it? Stripped bare, seen for the manipulative woman she was.
    The duke didn’t look convinced, but then she didn’t sound very convincing. “I understand you and Trystan had something of a relationship in the past.”
    “That’s really none of your business.”
    His gaze was hard. “My brother is. You and I are very similar, Madame La Rieux. We both have made a habit out of doing whatever necessary to get what we want, but I’m warning you . . .”
    She braced her palms on the surface of her desk. “ You’re warning me?”
    Then his broad hands planted themselves not far from hers, and suddenly she and the duke were nose to nose. “You listen to me, Vienne Moreau . . .”
    Vienne felt the blood drain from her face when he called her by her correct last name. She had changed it years ago in an attempt to put that life behind her. She had told no one in England about that name.
    The Duke of Ryeton rose a notch in her estimation—higher on her list of men to stay as far away from as possible.
    Obviously the duke noticed the change in her because he continued: “I don’t care if you sleep with him. But if you make a fool of, or hurt, my brother in any way, I will ruin you.”
    Mon Dieu . How fortunate Trystan was to be so loved, so protected. Why had her siblings not protected her in this way? Why had they sided against her instead of standing up for her?
    Her gaze locked with the duke’s. She lifted her chin, then dipped it again in agreement. “I understand you perfectly, Your Grace.”
    “Good.” He straightened. “I don’t know why Trystan is hell-bent on impressing you, but God knows there are worse notions for him to get into his head. Hopefully, he’ll disabuse himself of it soon enough.”
    “Yes,” she murmured. “Was there anything else, Your Grace? I do have a business to see to.”
    The duke smiled then—a little twist of his lips that she supposed was supposed to be humorous. “Then, I shall leave you to it. I do admire your backbone, madam.”
    “A girl’s got to have something to recommend her,” she quipped, with much more disinterestedness than she felt.
    Still smiling in that unnerving fashion, Ryeton bowed and took his leave of her as though he had taken tea rather than threatened her. Once he was gone Vienne slowly sat down. Her knees trembled slightly, and not only because the duke had gotten to her.
    Trystan wanted to impress her? It seemed preposterous. She would think herself the last person on earth from whom he would seek approval. Surely his brother was mistaken. If Trystan wanted her approval, it was because he wanted to rub her face in his own achievements or make a fool of her in the process. After the way she ended their affair, she couldn’t blame him for that—it was what she would do were the tables turned. She’d learned long ago that making oneself vulnerable to a person, trusting in them—especially a man—was just asking for trouble.
    Trystan had made her feel so vulnerable. She’d had no choice but to end things. It was either hurt him or risk having her heart broken—and she had too much self-preservation to allow that.
    She forced her attention back to the papers in front of her, but her mind refused to process the information on them. She kept thinking about Trystan and the kiss they’d shared the night before. He had enjoyed it, if only for a moment or so. She had enjoyed it as well, and that in itself was reason to never do it again.
    Seducing Trystan to assert herself was not the right choice; it was far too risky to her own