When Tempting a Rogue (25 page)

She supposed that was a good thing.

Trystan turned his head. “Vienne.”

Her heart fluttered. God help her, she was going to fall apart right there, in front of all these people. In front of
him
. “I’m here, Trystan. I’m here.”

He stretched out his hand and she took it, even though she had blood on hers. He squeezed, and she was glad that his grip was that strong. “Come with me,” he said as they left the building.

As if anyone could stop her. She stayed with him all the way to the carriage, and once inside, she held his hand. She continued to hold it even after he lost consciousness. That was when Vienne La Rieux had her first conversation with God in more than fifteen years. It was a brief conversation and consisted of a mere five words.

Please do not take him
.

Chapter 14

H
avers, it turned out, was right. The fact that the bullet had gone through Trystan’s body was actually a good thing, as the surgeon didn’t need to dig the shot out. Still, despite this bit of luck, the wound became infected; not badly, though, just enough to make him run a fever and scare the life out of Vienne as she watched him fade in and out of consciousness for two days.

After taking him to the surgeon’s office, he was moved to his rooms at the Barrington, where he could rest more comfortably. That’s where he was when the fever hit, and also where Vienne had come face-to-face with Archer Kane. She thought he would blame her for this, but he took one look at her, with her disheveled hair and bloodstained hands and clothes, and did the most surprising thing. He hugged her.

Vienne struggled free of his embrace, eyes burning. “Don’t,” she choked out. “He wouldn’t be hurt if not for me.”

“Unless you pulled the trigger yourself, I don’t see how that’s possible,” Lord Archer replied, his usual caustic tone softened by rare compassion. “You have injured my brother in many ways, Madame La Rieux, but this is thankfully not one of them.”

Vienne stared at him. He said it so matter-of-factly—it was not an insult but simple truth. Somehow, she would have rather had him angry at her. Anger would have made her feel less despicable.

“I’m staying with him,” she announced, lifting her chin. She expected him to argue but he merely nodded.

“You should send Havers ’round to your place for fresh clothing—blood is very much not your color. Go. I’ll sit with Tryst for the few moments you are gone.”

She didn’t argue, but made off straightaway to find the coachman. It was easier than she thought because he was downstairs in the lobby of the hotel, talking to Inspector Jacobs. Both men looked up as she approached, as did several guests. She could only imagine how she looked. Dear God, the gossips would have such a party with this! Thankfully, it would take word a while to reach the countryside.

Perhaps she would be able to get out of England before the Duke of Ryeton heard the news and killed her himself.

“Inspector, Mr. Havers . . . I beg your pardon, but, Mr. Havers, I wondered if I could trouble you to fetch some clean clothes for me from my home?”

The older man smiled, forming deep creases around his eyes and mouth. He had a kind face, kissed by the sun and wind rather than beaten by it. “Of course.” Then to the Scotland Yard man, “Are we done, sir?”

“Yes. If I have anymore questions, I know where to find you. Madame La Rieux, but might we have a word now?”

Vienne’s mind wasn’t working quite the way it should. “I would prefer to return to Trystan.”

“I don’t mind accompanying you.”

She was about to refuse him when she remembered that she had wounded the man who shot Trystan. He would want to know about that. He might also have news about the bastard, which she wanted to know.

“All right. Lord Trystan’s brother is with him right now, but I am certain he will want to hear what happened as well.”

They rode up to the private floor in the small, elegant lift run by a young man in a smart Barrington uniform of black and gold. They didn’t speak, and the young man made a special point of not looking at Vienne’s soiled clothing. He had to know what had happened—the entire staff must surely know by now.

As they departed the cage, the young man spoke, “Ma’am?”

Vienne turned to glance at him and saw the question in his wide eyes—the hope there. “He’s going to be fine,” she replied with more conviction than she felt. She even managed to add a smile.

The young man sagged in relief. “Thank the lord. And thank you, ma’am.”

She nodded warily and then led Inspector Jacobs to Trystan’s door. Once they were inside, Archer came out of the bedroom. He seemed composed but his eyes looked red. Had he been crying? Now she was the one tempted to hug him. She would have if they didn’t have an audience.

“Lord Archer, this is Inspector Jacobs of Scotland Yard. Inspector, may I introduce Lord Archer Kane, Lord Trystan’s brother.”

The two men exchanged handshakes before the three of them sat down in the sitting area. Vienne would have offered refreshment, but she had no idea how to go about doing so. Trystan didn’t have any servants, so she would have to go downstairs again and she really just wanted to get this interview over with.

“What of Gibbs?” she asked the inspector. Then to Archer, “He is the man who shot Trystan and was behind the sabotage.”

“It will be a while before he regains use of that arm,” the lawman informed her with what sounded like respect. “You’re a crack shot, Madame La Rieux.”

“You shot the villain?” Archer’s tone and expression were as surprised as they were impressed. “Well done.”

Vienne smiled slightly. “Is it true that Gibbs’s only motivation for attacking us was because of his wife’s deception?”

Jacobs nodded. “It appears so. It was nothing personal against either you or Lord Trystan. You were just most newsworthy.”

She thought of all the stories in the papers about her, the club, and Trystienne’s. Add that to the gossip printed about her and Trystan, not to mention Trystan’s accomplishments, and it was no wonder Gibbs targeted them. Their project was simply the best known.

“What you are saying, then, Inspector, is that my brother was shot for no other reason than he is co-owner of a bunch of shops?”

“Yes. I’m afraid so, Lord Archer.”

Trystan’s brother swore. Vienne heartily agreed with his assessment.

“If it is of any relief at all, I can tell you that Gibbs will most likely die in prison,” Jacobs informed them. “He’s going to be there a great many years.”

“It is something of a relief, monsieur. Thank you.” It
was
a relief, even though Trystan was injured. At least Gibbs would not be able to torment them any longer.

Since he had arrived on the scene after Trystan, the inspector stayed a little while longer, getting Vienne to tell her account of the events—how Gibbs had simply walked onto the site and pulled a weapon on her. She relayed how he had gone on and on about his wife and the damage Vienne was about to do to society in general, the fairer sex in particular. Then Trystan had arrived and took the shot meant for her.

When she was done, she dared to glance at Lord Archer, who was in turn watching her expressionlessly.

“I will keep you no longer,” Inspector Jacobs announced and rose to his feet, tucking his notebook and pencil inside his coat. “Thank you for your time.”

Alone with Archer now, Vienne went to the liquor cabinet. “Would you like a drink, Lord Archer?”

“Hell, yes. A stiff one.”

She poured them each a whiskey and returned to her chair. Her stomach felt as though it was tied up in knots, she was so nervous about facing him.

He reclined in the chair like a long, lean tomcat. “Let me get this straight—you’re angry at Trystan for saving your life.”

“I’m not angry. I simply wish he had not acted so rashly. I was Gibbs’s target.”

“And then you shot the man in retaliation.”

It wasn’t a question but she responded as such. “Yes.”

“I appreciate what you did for him, and the care you took to make certain he lived. I’m sure you have my entire family’s gratitude. I know I should ask you to leave, but I cannot be that cruel, even though I fear you will only break his heart again.”

Vienne swallowed. Such a blunt lot these Kane men were. “I would like to stay, so thank you.”

But Archer was not done with her. “I do not understand it. Trystan is the best man I’ve ever known, brother or not. How can you reject him?”

“It’s not really any of your concern, sir.”

He suddenly leaned forward in his chair—like a cobra about to strike. “My brother put himself in front of a bullet for you, woman. He would have given his life to save yours, a trade I do not think would have been a fair one given your shit behavior. Do not dare tell me this is none of my concern.”

“You do not mince words, do you?” She agreed with him, but his words still shook her.

“Not usually, no.” He took a drink. “If Trystan finds you here when he wakes up, he’s going to think you stayed because you care for him.”

“He’ll think I stayed out of guilt,” she corrected. “He doesn’t believe me capable of caring.”

Her companion scowled in disgust. “He doesn’t believe that, not truly. He wouldn’t have tried so hard to win you if he did. The boy believes you to be something special. I have yet to see it myself, but if Trystan sees it, I have to believe it exists.”

Vienne raised her own glass. “He’s not a boy, sir. He is a man, and I
do
care for him. I am simply not the right woman for him. He will accept that.”

Archer watched her from between narrow lids. “Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Ever fully accept that you are not the right woman? Because I have to tell you, madam, your state of dishevel and the pallor in your cheeks suggest otherwise.”

She swore. “My God! I am so very tired of you Kane men presuming to know my mind better than I! You do not, and I will thank you to keep your opinions to yourself!”

“Its ‘thank’ not ‘tank’,” he informed her blandly. “And I believe in releasing my opinions to the world where they can be of benefit to others. I’m very philanthropic that way.”

There was no stopping the smile that tugged at her lips. She wanted to stay angry with this obnoxious, arrogant man, but she could not. However, she was firm when she said, “I’m going to stay until I am certain he is recovered, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me short of physically removing me from this place.”

“All right.”

That was it? He was fine with her staying even though he had demanded she do otherwise? She added
strange
to her mental list of Kane family traits.

It was good that she stayed, because of the infection that did set in. With the help of some potions from the surgeon and regular cleaning of the wound, Vienne saw a vast improvement within just a couple of days—a good sign. Trystan’s fever broke and he began to have more lucid periods despite the pain medication he took.

Vienne and Archer continued to take turns caring for him. Archer had written to the duke to tell him what happened, making certain Ryeton knew Trystan was recovering nicely and that there was no need for him to return again to London, especially since Rose should get her rest. He knew exactly what to say to convince His Grace not to come to town—much to Vienne’s relief. The last thing she wanted or needed was another Kane around, especially the one member of the family that intimidated her.

Because of that, she and Archer formed a sort of truce. She wouldn’t go so far as to say it was a friendship, but it wasn’t as tense between them anymore.

Vienne was the one changing the dressing on Trystan’s wound—now healing wonderfully—when he truly woke up. His eyes opened and focused on her. He was able to really see her now, unlike the foggy gaze he’d had while the infection and pain rode him.

“Vienne.” There was such an expression of wonder on his face that she could have cried. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “I had nothing else to do,” she replied teasingly. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been shot.” His grin was tired, but true. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “And I need a shave.”

“Would you like me to fetch your shaving gear and a mirror?” There was no reason he couldn’t shave himself. The bullet had gone through his side not his shoulder.

Trystan gave his head a shake and patted the bed beside him. “Come sit. Tell me everything I’ve missed. Did they arrest the bounder?”

Vienne sat down on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle him too much. “You shouldn’t have jumped in front of me.”

He took her hand. Little jolts of electricity shot up her arm. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his touch until now. “You’ll never make me regret it, Vienne. Don’t bother trying. And don’t you feel guilty either. Now, be a good girl and tell me what I want to hear.”

With a sigh, Vienne abandoned all thought of chastising him and filled him in on everything he needed to know, right down to how work was continuing on Trystienne’s. What she didn’t tell him was that she had no intention of talking to other investors. She was going to fight him on that.

“Your brother said I should not be here when you regain consciousness. He said it might . . . confuse you in regards to my feelings.”

He arched a brow. “What did you tell him? That I would think you stayed out of guilt?”

She started. He truly did know her better than anyone else.
That’s why I love him
. The thought startled her even more. Good Lord, was it possible? How would she know if this was love or not?
Oh . . .
This was awful. It was wonderful. It was . . . she couldn’t begin to think of the right words.

“Vienne?” He looked at her strangely. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” but her breathless tone proved that a fat lie. “Trystan, there is something I want to tell you.”