When Tempting a Rogue by Kathryn Smith

achievements are for ourselves, aren’t they? And to impress others?”
    His words grabbed her heart and shoved it into her throat. Did he suspect that proving herself—her worth—was what drove her? That some mornings it was pride and spite and little else that got her out of bed? Lord knew, there were plenty of things she’d done that she wasn’t proud of, so she needed that spite, that anger, to push her forward, even though the people she wanted to prove herself to would never know what she had achieved.
    Unless the Duke of Ryeton revealed her last name to the world. She didn’t think that was a viable concern, however, not if the beautiful bouquet that had arrived from him that morning was any indication. Wondering what prompted Grey’s apology, her gaze turned to Trystan. He was still unpacking the basket, seemingly unaware of the fact that in his presence, she was as uncertain as a mere girl. She wanted to impress him, and knew herself well enough to know that could only lead to trouble. He would be the last person to look at her and find anything extraordinary. Once, he had looked upon her as though she was a goddess, but she had taken good care of that.
    “You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Trystan remarked, offering her a plate loaded with various offerings. “Something on your mind?”
    Vienne accepted the food with murmured thanks. “Simply woolgathering, as you English put it. Nothing of importance.”
    He glanced at her as he filled a plate for himself, peering at her through the lock of hair that had fallen over his brow. “Everything you think is important, Vienne. You are the least capable person I know of being frivolous.”
    He said it with a generous amount of teasing in his tone, but it stung just a little—more than it ought. “I can be frivolous. I once bought six pairs of the same shoe in different colors just because I adored the look of them, yet I can’t bring myself to wear half of them. I keep saving them for a special occasion.”
    Trystan grinned. “A frivolous person would wear them to clean out the stables, not treasure them.”
    “I’ve cleaned out a stable before, so I can honestly tell you I would never treat those shoes with such wanton disrespect.”
    He popped a grape into his mouth and said around it, “I can’t imagine you shoveling horse manure.”
    Vienne smiled. “When I was a girl we had horses. Oh, how I loved to care for them! Such beautiful animals.” Just the thought of them made her feel so warm inside. Why didn’t she own horses now? Other than the ones that pulled her carriage, she didn’t have any—not even one to ride. She missed riding.
    When she looked at Trystan, she found him regarding her strangely—almost as if he fancied her a goddess again. Her traitorous heart spasmed in pleasure. No, she was not a good person at all to want his adoration. She would only crush him again. Trystan wasn’t as hard as she was—wasn’t as damaged. He was good and pure. There had been an innocence to him that attracted her; a sweetness that made her want to take everything he offered and give everything she had to him in return.
    That was why she ended the affair. She had given everything once and paid a horrible price.
    “What?” she demanded when the silence ran on too long and her thoughts began to stray to things best left alone.
    He shook his head and plucked up a piece of cheese. “I suppose I have a hard time picturing you as a young girl.”
    “Why? Because I’m so old?” She certainly sounded like a crone; was behaving like one.
    Trystan snorted. “Positively ancient. It’s a wonder you haven’t crumbled to dust on this very blanket. Don’t be so foolishly reactionary, Vienne. It doesn’t suit you.”
    “As if you know what suits me.” That had a little more bite than she intended, but the damned man didn’t seem to notice.
    He simply took a bite of cheese. “I know you better than you think.”
    How many times had she heard that