When Tempting a Rogue by Kathryn Smith Page B

relationship. It was best for both of us.”
    “It was best for you,” he shot back as she turned to walk away. “You’ve always been top-notch at placing the blame on someone else, but I’m not the same boy I was back then either, Vienne.”
    She hesitated on the threshold—chest tight. Slowly, she turned her head to glance at him one last time over her shoulder. The harshness of his features and the coldness in his eyes tore at her insides like sharpened claws.
    “No,” she replied, not bothering to hide her disappointment. “You certainly are not.”

Chapter 6
     
    I t seemed Trystan was the Kane male who now owed Vienne an apology, only a bouquet of lilies wasn’t going to do the job. Quite frankly, he wasn’t quite certain what to do to tell her how sorry he was.
    The purpose of becoming her partner was to make her look at him as a man, but he had acted poorly—as had she!—and now she looked at him as though she didn’t like the man he had become. Of course, she would prefer the more malleable boy, but he had behaved like a dolt, and for that he was truly repentant.
    Vienne was the kind of woman accustomed to receiving gifts from men of her acquaintance, which made it even more difficult for him. He had to get her something she would like, that would prove his contrition. But it had be something she could enjoy for years ahead. Jewelry was too cold—any man could buy jewelry.
    And then inspiration struck.
    It took a couple of days to organize. Vienne was avoiding him like the plague, and had given herself the task of letting their current guards go while he hired new ones, so it wasn’t difficult to make arrangements without her catching wind of his plans. He had to admit to being fairly impressed with himself when everything fell into place, but a queer sense of anxiety claimed him as well. Would she like it? Was it too much?
    He knocked on the front door of Saint’s Row early Friday morning, and was immediately shown to Vienne’s office. He might have known she’d be up already. Quite frankly, he wasn’t certain when the woman actually slept.
    She sat behind her desk dressed in a rust-colored silk day-gown that brought out the creaminess of her skin and the fire in her hair. She looked up as he walked in; her expression neutral, eyes guarded. “Trystan. Good morning. I did not expect to see you until this afternoon at the construction site.”
    Trystan turned the brim of his beaver hat around in his hands. “Yes, well . . . I have something for you.”
    She arched a brow—and for a moment he was one and twenty, dry-mouthed and uncertain in her cool, sophisticated presence. “A gift? That isn’t necessary.”
    She wasn’t impressed, just as he had thought. Gifts were little more than currency to her, and she clearly suspected him of trying to buy her forgiveness and good favor once again.
    “I know it wasn’t necessary,” he replied. “But I thought when combined with my apology for the way I spoke to you the other day, you might see your way to forgiving a thoughtless dolt.”
    She eyed him warily—suspiciously even. “You seem somewhat agitated. Have you discovered who sabotaged the steps?”
    “No. No one seems to have seen anything. The carpenter, as you can imagine, was horrified . . . I’m a tad bit nervous as to whether or not you’ll like my gift.”
    Vienne leaned back in her chair, still watching him. “Because you think it may not be enough to secure my forgiveness? You needn’t have bought me anything for that, Trystan. You only had to ask.”
    “I’m asking.” He held out his hand. “But that’s not why I’m agitated. I sincerely want you to have this.”
    She opened her arms in an expansive gesture. “So, give it to me.”
    He wiggled the fingers of the hand extended to her. “You have to come with me. It’s outside.”
    Ginger brows jumped. “ Mon Dieu , it’s not a carriage is it?”
    Trystan smiled at the horror in her tone. “No, it’s not a