“Are you all right?” Trenton demanded gruffly, his arms tightening reflexively around her.
“Yes.” She raised her face to his and smiled. “Now I am.”
“Good.” Trenton looked past her to Baxter’s abashed expression. “Then I’ll merely beat your brother senseless instead of killing him, as I’d originally planned.”
“Trenton … don’t.” Ariana pressed her palms against his chest. “Baxter didn’t hurt me. The blame is not entirely his. In many ways, he’s as much a victim as we are. Please, listen to me.”
Instinctively, Trenton made a move toward Baxter. “You greedy, immoral bastard … you kidnapped your own sister just to get your hands on my money?”
“Trenton!” Ariana made a final attempt. “Before you do something you’ll regret, I must tell you—”
“I’ll speak for myself, baby sister.”
Hearing the hated, never-forgotten voice, Trenton reacted violently, his fingers digging into the soft skin of Ariana’s arms. Blindly, he turned his head toward the sound, his heart thundering wildly in Ariana’s ear. For a long moment he just stared, confronted with the ghost that had haunted him not only these past weeks, but for six long years. At last he spoke, his voice a strangled hiss. “Vanessa.”
“A most attractive corpse, wouldn’t you say?” Vanessa smoothed her gown and approached him, bitterness glittering in her emerald eyes. “No loving reception, darling? I would think you’d be thrilled! After all … I’m not dead, and you’re not crazy. Who could ask for anything more?”
“Trenton …” Ariana reached up to touch her husband’s taut jaw. “You’re not seeing things. Vanessa really is alive. She’s the one who’s been—”
Brusquely, Trenton shoved Ariana behind him, as if to protect her from some heinous creature whose evil she underestimated. He towered over Vanessa, assessing every breathing inch of her, abhorrence, shock, and rage emanating from his powerful form. “You are alive,” he pronounced at last. Fists clenched at his sides, he battled the urge to choke her.
“Indeed I am.”
“Why?” he demanded. ‘
“Which question am I answering: Why did I feign my own death, why did I implicate you, or why did I return to England? You’ll have to be more specific, Trenton.”
“All of it!” He raised his hand as if to strike her, then drove his fingers forcefully through his hair. “All of it, damn you!”
Vanessa’s spine straightened. “Go ahead and hit me. I’m used to it: It’s the only way men have of asserting their power.”
“I never struck you, you lying bitch; although Lord alone knows I should have.”
“Then why didn’t you? The physical scars would have been far easier to bear than the agony of your rejection!” Her voice shook. “No one rejects me … least of all an arrogant hypocrite who discarded me like an old shoe simply because he wasn’t the only man in my life.” Vanessa raised her chin, raking Trenton with icy disdain. “Is virtue the only condition your wife must fulfill, Trenton? Evidently so, although I wonder if you still find it as attractive a quality as you did prior to taking your virgin bride to bed!”
A vein pulsed in Trenton’s neck, and only Ariana’s gentle hand on his back kept him from losing all control. “Your lack of innocence was the least of my objections to you, Vanessa. Your duplicity, your deceit, your manipulations, your cruelty, your self-indulgence, your greed …” Trenton drew in a furious breath. “Those are the reasons I wanted nothing to do with you.”
“You wanted me. I know you wanted me.”
“At one time, yes, I wanted you. Until I discovered just how high your price was. Frankly”—Trenton gave her a thoroughly deprecating look—“you didn’t come close to being worth it.”
“You bastard!” She drew back her hand and slapped him across the face. “I’ve lived through hell because of you!”
“No, Vanessa. You’ve lived through hell because of you.” A spasm of agony flashed across Trenton’s face as the full impact of Vanessa’s existence began to sink in. “And so did I.” His hands shook. “My God, all these years … my father … my sanity …”
“Trenton … don’t,” Ariana whispered, coming around to stand beside him, wrapping her small fingers around his strong, trembling hand.
“And now my wife,” Trenton continued, venom reappearing in his gaze. “You heartless bitch, you were behind this sick scheme, weren’t you? This attempt to drive me insane and get your hands on my fortune by using Ariana, keeping her here against her will? It wasn’t Baxter’s plan, it was yours!”
“Yes … yes … it was mine!” Vanessa shrieked. “And why shouldn’t it be? I’ve spent six years with a sadistic parasite, relinquishing my youth, my dreams, my last dollars, and my last shred of pride! I’ve been beaten, isolated, abused until I didn’t care if I lived! And all because of you!” Hard, wrenching tears wracked her body, contorting her beautiful face into a mask of anguished loathing. “My only consolation was that your life was over too! You were banished to Wight, forced to live as a recluse, with no hope for your future and no joy in your present. And then …” She dashed the tears from her cheeks, her body shuddering with sobs. “My baby sister blundered her way into your life. I hoped she’d make it hell for you. … But instead, the stupid chit became infatuated with you. Not only that, but you were good to her. She had your money, your title, your bed … all the things I should have had! And damn you to hell, I was going to have them … no matter what the cost!”
“I want you locked up,” Trenton ground out. “And I want the warden to throw away the key.”
A sudden, eerie calm settled over Vanessa. “Then do it. No prison could be more horrible than the one I’ve endured.”
“Trenton … wait.” Ariana stepped forward, studying Vanessa with pity and sorrow. “I despise you for what you’ve done … to my husband, to all of us. You’re a very unstable woman, Vanessa, and a very cruel one as well. But despite the fact that you yourself incited all your own grief, no one should have to suffer the life you’ve been forced to withstand.” Ariana half-turned to Trenton. “If my husband is amenable, I’d like to give you a portion of the money you so worship, in exchange for the promise that you’ll never set foot in England again. Go wherever you wish, as far from your sick husband as you choose. But equally as far away from us.”
Ignoring Vanessa’s stunned expression, Ariana’s eyes met Trenton’s. Then, before he could respond, she turned to Baxter, who was leaning listlessly against the wall, limp and depleted of whatever emotional reserves he had left after listening to Vanessa’s shocking revelations earlier today.
“As I’ve always said,” Ariana murmured, “you’re a weak man, Baxter. Not evil, but weak. And a very poor judge of character, it seems.” She shook her head with dismal finality. “You’ve been punished enough. You’ve destroyed whatever small amount of family allegiance existed between us. Now you truly have nothing.”
With that, Ariana turned and walked back to her husband’s arms. “While we, on the other hand, have the greatest blessing life has to offer.” She lay her hand over his heart. “I love you, Trenton,” she whispered, watching the rage fade from his eyes in the wake of something far more powerful. “Neither Baxter nor Vanessa is worth your hatred, only your pity. I know how much you’ve given up because of them. … But the ultimate deprivation is theirs. Money is a meager substitute for what we have. Please, darling …” She reached up to caress his jaw. “It’s time to let it go.”
Closing his eyes, Trenton turned his lips into Ariana’s palm, nodding slowly against her smooth skin. “Give them whatever you want, misty angel.” His warm breath caressed her hand. “Just get them out of our lives.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“No … thank you.” Wrapping his arm about her waist, Trenton drew Ariana toward the door, away from Winsham and all its ugly memories. Once he paused, turning back to where Vanessa stood, unmoving. “My solicitor will deliver a check to you tomorrow. After that
, I expect you to be gone from England by nightfall, never to return again. Should you decide ever to show your face in this country, I won’t hesitate to have you thrown in prison for the rest of your life. Is that clear enough for you?”
Stripped of her bravado, empty-eyed and dissipated, Vanessa nodded, an old woman destined to spend the rest of her life with only the shallow wealth she coveted as her companion.
“As for you,” Trenton said to Baxter, “stay the hell out of our lives … mine and my wife’s. Permanently.”
Bleakly, Baxter murmured his acquiescence.
No other words were necessary, and none were exchanged.
With purposeful tenderness, Trenton guided Ariana back into the sunlight. “Come, misty angel,” he said softly. “I know just the place where we can heal.”
CHAPTER
26
DUSTIN’S BROW FURROWED IN confusion when he read the cryptic message that arrived at Broddington an hour later. Gratefully, he absorbed the fact that everything was resolved and Ariana was where she belonged: with Trent. It didn’t matter that Trenton’s message contained no details; those could wait until later. What baffled Dustin was the odd tenor of the message, which was perplexing, at best. Anxious to decipher Trenton’s meaning, Dustin followed his brother’s advice and sought out Theresa at once.
“I received a letter from Trenton,” he announced.
“Yes.” Theresa’s answer was a statement, not a question. She continued to ready the duke’s and duchess’s bedroom for their return.
Dustin cleared his throat, skimming past the letter’s preliminaries, focusing on the curious section that followed. “Trent writes, ‘that which is past is gone and irrevocable.’”
Theresa nodded sagely. “His Grace is quoting Sir Francis. A wise choice.”
“Oh.” Dustin stared at Theresa. “I see. Well, Trent assures us that he and Ariana are both well and will return home from Spraystone in several days.”
“Four days, to be precise: a sensible decision.” Theresa straightened, inclining her head quizzically in Dustin’s direction. “What is your question, my lord?”
Shaking his head in perpetual amazement, Dustin returned to the note. “Trent goes on to say that Shakespeare knew of what he wrote when he said, ‘At Christmas I no more desire a rose, than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled mirth; but like of each thing that in season grows.’ He concludes by asking me to seek you out to say that your taste is superb and that ‘a man must make his opportunity, as oft as find it.’“
“Sir Francis again.” Theresa patted the bulging volume in her apron pocket.
“What does it mean, Theresa?” Dustin was at his wits’ end.
The elderly lady’s maid smiled. “It means, my lord, that you and I have our work cut out for us.”
“Are you sure Dustin and Theresa know we’re all right?” Ariana asked, propping her chin on her husband’s chest.
“Positive. I sent them a message before we left port.” Trenton gathered handfuls of his wife’s glorious hair, tugging her face down to his. “Why? Are you so eager to leave Spraystone?”
“No.” She breathed the word against his lips, knowing that anywhere Trenton was would be home for her.
“Have I thanked you for my sitting room?” he asked solemnly.
“Do you really like it?” Ariana disentangled herself from her husband’s embrace, her eyes alight with pleasure.
“It’s everything you willed it to be and more: a perfect combination of an apt tribute, a cherished sanctuary and a magnificent testimonial of my wife’s rare and precious love.” Trenton framed her face between his hands. “Thank you, misty angel.”
Ariana’s eyes grew damp. “I owe you thanks, as well. Never have I seen a more selfless gesture than the one you displayed at Winsham today. After all the anguish Vanessa has put you through …” Ariana felt emotion well up inside her. “To not only allow her to go free, but to provide her with funds.”
“The idea was yours, not mine,” Trenton reminded her.
“Nevertheless, you agreed. In spite of everything.”
Trenton traced Ariana’s soft lower lip with his thumb. “From what you told me on our boat ride to Wight, your sister has paid bitterly for her ruthlessness. I’d be lying if I said I feel forgiveness. I’m not even certain I’m capable of compassion where Vanessa is concerned. However”—Trenton’s expression softened—“she did inadvertently provide me with what I now recognize as my life’s greatest treasure. You.”
“I love you,” Ariana whispered.
“I know. Thank God for that.”
“Trenton?”
“Hmm?”
“About Baxter.” Ariana took a deep breath. “I don’t expect your opinion of him to change … and I respect your reasons; those stemming from the past as well as the present. But he’s not a wicked man, Trenton, only a pitiful one. In my heart I know he cares for me, although his love is shallow and will always take second place to his less than reputable priorities.”
“And he’s your brother.” Trenton had remained quiet throughout Ariana’s hurried explanation. Now he silenced her by laying his forefinger across her lips. “Personally, I detest the man. But I happen to love his sister very much; so I can afford to be magnanimous. Give me some time, misty angel. Then, if you want to see him, I won’t stand in your way. But never at Winsham and never alone.”
“Agreed.” Ariana’s eyes shone. “You see? I told you you’re a wonderful man.”
“And I told you I’m no hero.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You’re beautiful.” Words suddenly inadequate, Trenton rolled Ariana onto her back, gazing down into her fathomless turquoise eyes. “I love you,” he told her reverently. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you, my extraordinary wife, but I don’t ever intend to lose you.”
“I don’t ever intend to give you the opportunity.” Ariana caressed the bare expanse of his broad shoulders, wound her arms around his neck. “Fate intended for us to be together. Theresa foresaw that from the start. I should have recognized it, too … from the moment you rescued me … and my ankle … from the Covington maze.”
“Is that what happened?” Trenton opened his mouth over hers, urging her thighs apart and settling himself between them. “Odd, I see it differently. I rescued you, yes, but in the end it was I who was saved. Although I admit my loss that night was far more extensive than yours.”
“Your loss?” Ariana’s voice was breathless, her body opening to receive the intimate invasion of his. “I don’t understand …”
Reverently, Trenton gazed down at his wife, burying himself, body and soul, in her welcoming warmth. “On that night, my love, you lost only your way. While I lost my heart.”
“Sorry to leave Spraystone?” Trenton asked, resting his chin atop Ariana’s bright head as the Kingsley carriage made its way to Broddington.
“Yes … and no,” Ariana replied truthfully, warm and content in Trenton’s arms. “The past few days have been heaven. But I miss Broddington and Theresa and Dustin. Poor Dustin …” she smiled ruefully, “he must be thoroughly confused and pacing the floors awaiting our return.”
“I suspect Dustin has kept himself quite busy.” The sparkle in Trenton’s eyes was lost to his wife, whose face was buried in her husband’s shoulder. “Besides, I more or less explained the outcome of things in my letter. Dustin won’t be worried.”
“Nor will Theresa. I’m sure she knew even without the letter.”
“I’m sure she did.”
Ariana tilted her head back to gaze out the window at the darkening sky. “I wonder where Odysseus is. I half-hoped he’d visit us on Wight.”
Trenton smiled. “As did I. I owe him a huge debt of thanks. Your owl turned out to be quite a hero.”
“As I said, he’s much like you, Trenton: an unwilling champion and a solitary wanderer seeking his way.”
Gratefully, Trenton tightened his hold about his wife. “My solitary days are over.
I’ve found what I’m seeking.”
Anticipation coursing through him, Trenton knew there was but one thing remaining to make his joy complete.
Twilight had given way to dusk when the carriage passed through Broddington’s iron gates. The manor was quiet, devoid of activity.
Ariana frowned as Trenton helped her alight. “I wonder where Jennings is: It’s not like him to ignore a message. You did tell them when we’d be returning, didn’t you?”
“I did.” Trenton looped an arm about Ariana’s waist, guiding her away from the front door and toward the path that led to the side of the house.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Trenton … what on earth is going on?” Ariana was totally bewildered. While the manor itself seemed deserted, a bright glow emanated from the direction in which they were headed.
“Come, misty angel, we don’t want to be late.”
“Late? Late for what? Where are you taking—” Her voice was abruptly silenced, transformed into a quiet gasp of stunned disbelief. “Oh my God …”
The conservatory rose before them, regal and majestic, its doors thrown open wide. In the center of the room was an enormous fir tree, illuminated by hundreds of tiny wax tapers, decorated with candy, fruit, and charms. The glow of the candles drenched the conservatory in golden light that spilled out onto Broddington’s waiting grounds.
Draped around the room, from corner to corner, were ropes of evergreen sprigs; laurel leaves with rosettes of bright colored paper, punctuated with wreaths of ivy and berries. Delicate chrysanthemums and camellias were arranged in baskets, and a huge table, piled high with gifts, was tucked against the far wall, beckoning Ariana toward it.
Most of all, were the beloved, smiling faces: Dustin, Theresa, even Jennings, beaming at Ariana, sharing her joy, their eyes filled with love.
It was Christmas.
“Trenton … I…” Tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks, Ariana couldn’t speak.
“Come, love.” He took her hand, guiding her into the fairy-tale-come-true. “Aren’t you going to open your presents?”