Andrea Kane (21 page)

Ariana visibly recoiled.

“I commend your brother,” Trenton commented bitterly, halting only when he loomed directly over her. “He’s done his job well.”

“W-what do you mean?” Ariana groped behind her, clutching the thick stalk of a potted fern for balance.

“An ineffective weapon, at best.”

“Pardon me?”

Trenton gestured behind her. “The fern. Surely you can find a more compelling object than that with which to fend me off. I hardly expect to be felled by a plant.”

Ariana released the stem at once. “Do I need to fend you off?”

“What do you think?”

His voice was low, chilling, his body ominously still, emanating the controlled power and turbulence of a coiled viper ready to strike.

Torn between the urge to run for her life and the equally pressing urge to beseech her husband to deny all she had just uncovered, Ariana did neither, merely staring at him in bewildered silence.

“Poor misty angel,” Trenton droned, his husky tone alluding to something that could have been either tenderness or derision, “you look like a terrified doe.” Ignoring the inadvertent stiffening of Ariana’s body, he slid his hand around her nape, stroking softly, running his fingers through the thick waves of her hair. “Frightened at last?” he taunted.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Should I be?”

His grip tightened. “What did Caldwell tell you?”

She paled. “Tell me?”

“Ah, what an atrocious liar you are,” Trenton mocked, drawing her nearer. “As I said, your brother has done his job well.”

“Please, Trenton …” She flattened her palms against his chest, staving him off.

“Please … what?” The question was a tantalizing caress, completely belied by the furious sparks flaring in his eyes.

Apprehension constricted Ariana’s chest. “Let go of me,” she commanded, softly at first, then insistently, struggling to free herself. “Let me go!” She jerked loose of his grasp, retreating backward a dozen paces.

Trenton made no move to follow but held his arms rigidly at his sides, fury radiating from his massive frame. “How much do you want?”

“What?” Ariana was lost … lost and afraid.

“How much did he tell you to ask for, dammit!” Trenton sliced the air with his open palm, knocking over an entire line of geraniums, sending ruined flowers scattering at Ariana’s feet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried.

“Your brother…” Trenton ground out between clenched teeth. “He wants money … as always. How much did he tell you to bleed me for?”

Ariana straightened, her own eyes smoldering as comprehension dawned. “Money? Baxter and I never discussed money!”

Trenton threw back his head and laughed: an eerie, disbelieving laugh. “Never? I find that dubious, at best. Jewels, then? Or valuable paintings? Or perhaps every bloody treasure Broddington has to offer?”

“Baxter and I want nothing from you!” she shot back, the emotional impact of the day converging to explode inside her. “You got what you wanted when you coerced me to marry you! Now all I want is for you to leave me alone!”

“Leave you alone?” Trenton’s laughter faded, replaced by a forbidding stillness that was far more frightening. “Funny, that’s not the plea I recall hearing in our bed last night. Or was that coercion too, my indignant wife? Did I
coerce
you to give me your beautiful body, not once but countless times? Did I take you against your will, command you to lie with me? Did I, Ariana?”

Ariana’s lips trembled, but she didn’t flinch. “No,” she said in a tiny voice, admission and sadness reflected in her magnificent turquoise eyes, “that I did on my own.” With heartwrenching candor, she added, “And I don’t regret a single moment of it.”

A muscle flexed in Trenton’s jaw and he dragged his gaze from the honest emotion in hers. “If you and your brother didn’t discuss wresting my sizable fortune, what did you discuss?”

“Vanessa.”

A deafening silence.

“I read her suicide note.” Ariana raised her chin, valiantly confronting Trenton with the truth. “I never knew it existed.”

Shutters descended over Trenton’s eyes, and his lips curled sardonically. “Well, well. Caldwell was even busier than I anticipated.”

“You and I have to discuss—”

“No.”

Ariana’s chin came up. “Let me clarify my statement. We
must
discuss Vanessa’s death; there is no longer any alternative.”

“I
will not
speak of your sister,” Trenton growled. “Not now … or ever. Listen to me, Ariana, and heed me well. Do
not
pursue this matter. You don’t know what you’re talking about … or what the consequences could be.”

Prickles of fear ran up Ariana’s spine as she studied the biting hatred on her husband’s face. Fox. a fleeting instant she saw Trenton as Vanessa must have: as a man who was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, capable of murder.

Trenton correctly interpreted his wife’s apprehensive expression, and the realization that she so profoundly feared him splintered the last of his control. Striding forward, he grabbed her elbow, jerking her roughly against him. “You’re my wife, Ariana! Loathe it or not, you belong to me. And no evils of the past can alter that.”

The color drained from Ariana’s cheeks and she voiced a token protest, shaking her head haltingly from side to side. With a muffled curse, Trenton brought his mouth down on hers, bruising her lips with the violence of his kiss. “Damn her to hell,” he muttered, ravaging Ariana’s mouth with his own. “Damn each and every bloody Caldwell to hell.”

He crushed Ariana to his chest, forcing her to accept his brand of total possession. His tongue thoroughly plundered her mouth, his arms held her captive with a grip of iron. Fiercely, he used his brutal kiss to proclaim her as his until at last, unable to conquer the assault, Ariana went limp and unresisting in his arms.

Feeling his wife’s struggles cease, Trenton tore his mouth away, dragging air into his lungs, desperately trying to still the red haze of fury that had accosted him. Panting, he stared down into Ariana’s ashen face, scrutinizing her to see if her terror of him remained.

Tears glistened in her eyes, on her cheeks. “Are you finished?” she asked quietly. “Or do you plan to hurt me too?”

Abruptly, he shoved her away from him. “Get out of here,” he ordered, veering away. He crossed the room, slamming his fists against a marble pillar. “Just get out of my sight—now!”

Ariana needed no further invitation. Gathering her skirts, she raced from the conservatory, never looking back.

Trenton listened to the sound of his wife’s heels echoing down the hall until they faded and finally disappeared altogether. Slowly, he averted his head, staring at the empty doorway, the tormented fires of hell raging in his soul. It had been years since he’d lost control like that: striking out at a woman without thought or sanity. The last time had been six years ago—and the consequences had been fatal.

But his motivation this time was drastically different.

And that difference sent warning bells clanging through every nerve cell in his body.

Trenton raked his fingers through his hair, the sweetness of his wife’s reluctant mouth still lingering on his tongue, her anguished tears still etched in his mind. He wanted to choke Baxter Caldwell with his bare hands for showing Ariana that letter.

And the letter was only the beginning: merely one layer of the monstrous past for Caldwell to peel away.

“Why am I not surprised to find you here?” Dustin teased, leaning against the stable wall.

Ariana looked up from where she sat, amid a tall pile of hay on the stall floor. Tenderly, she stroked the soft head of a small yellow chick that sat contentedly cradled in her hands. “Were you looking for me?”

Dustin frowned, taking in Ariana’s tear-streaked face and wide, haunted eyes. “What’s happened, sweetheart?”

She lowered her head. “Nothing I want to discuss.”

Dustin crossed the stall and lowered himself beside her, lifting her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Is it Trent?”

Ariana gave a hollow laugh. “Isn’t it always?”

“No, not always,” he countered softly. “There are times when he makes you look positively radiant.”

Pink-cheeked, she turned away. “That’s because I’m a romantic fool.”

“Romantic yes. A fool, never.”

“You’re wrong, Dustin. I’m the very worst of fools. In letting my instincts guide me, I’m afraid I’ve allowed myself to fall victim to a heinous lie.”

Dustin was silent for a moment, sifting a handful of hay through his fingers. “Trenton’s feelings are no lie, Ariana. He cares for you … a great deal. Probably more than he knows, definitely more than he cares to admit.”

“To the contrary, Dustin, the only feeling your brother has for me is contempt. He loathes me for being a Caldwell, and married me out of some obsessive need for vengeance.” She buried her face in the chick’s downy feathers. “Although why in heaven’s name
he
should seek retribution, when it was
my
sister who died, is beyond me.”

Dustin’s jaw set. “You’ve been at Winsham?”

Ariana’s head came up, her brows arched in surprise at Dustin’s icy tone. “Yes … today, as a matter of fact.”

“Then that explains whatever stormy encounter you had with Trent.”

“Why?” she asked incredulously. “Surely Trenton didn’t expect me to break off all ties with my brother simply because I married a man who despises him. Why would my visit to Winsham enrage him so?”

Uneasily, Dustin smoothed his mustache, measuring his reply. “Trent has his reasons,” he said at last.

“What are they?”

“I’m not the one you should be asking, Ariana.”

“But I
am
asking you,” she pleaded, clutching his arm. “Please, Dustin … You’re the only friend I have at Broddington. Won’t you give me
some
insight into the past?”

Dustin stared at the small hand gripping his arm, torn between loyalty and compassion. When reason interceded on the side of compassion, reminding him that Trenton’s future happiness hinged on the eradication of his past, he made his decision. “Baxter and Trent go back many years,” he explained cautiously. “Since they were in their late teens.”

“Before Vanessa and Trenton were …”

“Yes.”

Ariana blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know that. How did they meet?”

“They were both competitors for an investment in a small manufacturing firm. The details don’t matter anymore. Suffice it to say, they had different methods of attaining their goals. Their antipathy was rapid and mutual.”

Ariana scooted the chick off her lap and drew her knees up, resting her chin thoughtfully atop them. “Was Baxter unethical?”

Silence.

“Dustin, I know my brother … quite well, in fact. I have no false illusions about his character.” Seeing Dustin’s startled expression, she hastened on, qualifying her statement. “Baxter loves me; I know he does … in his way. But he will go to great lengths to retain his material comforts or, as is too often the case, to regain them. So if he stooped to somewhat shady methods to achieve his ends, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“You
surprise
me,”
Dustin replied, shaking his head.

“Why? Because I’m objective about those I love?” Ariana shrugged. “To me, love means recognizing someone’s flaws and caring in spite of them.” Tilting her head, she gave Dustin a searching look. “Isn’t that what you do?”

His lips curved slightly. “I suppose I do. My, my … And here I thought I was the one teaching you.” Tenderly, he wrapped a strand of her hair about his finger and tugged. “For one so young, you’re very wise.”

Ariana smiled back. “Wise, perhaps, but not terribly worldly. I know enough about your brother to guess that he is rigidly principled in his business dealings. I can see why that would create conflict with Baxter. What I don’t see is how Vanessa fits into—”

“Let’s say that Trent’s and Baxter’s differing philosophies extended to women as well.”

“Women? But Vanessa was our sister!”

“Prior to Vanessa. As far back as I can remember.” Dustin released Ariana’s lock of hair, holding her gaze with his. “As you are well aware, Trent is a handsome, titled, and extremely wealthy man. Needless to say, women flocked to him in droves.”

An unexpected twist of jealousy gripped Ariana’s heart.

“There were many women over the years,” Dustin continued. “Some were coveted by others, but were drawn to Trenton nonetheless.”

Comprehension dawned on Ariana’s face. “What you’re saying is that Baxter and Trenton traveled in the same circles, and that the desirable ladies pursued Trenton, rather than Baxter.”

Dustin nodded. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” Abruptly, he averted his gaze. “Your brother didn’t take kindly to the situation. He took his affections elsewhere … and his investment funds as well. His resulting way of life diametrically opposed Trent’s.”

Ariana gave a resigned sigh. “In short, Baxter gambled excessively and had indiscriminate affairs with married women. … Trenton did not.”

Again, Dustin started. “So you did know!”

“About Trenton? No. About Baxter, of course I knew, I love my brother, but I have no misconceptions about his questionable values. I simply accept them as part of him.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “If Baxter disliked Trenton all those years, why would he allow Vanessa to become involved with him?”

“It wasn’t Baxter’s choice.”

“So that’s why Baxter and Vanessa argued,” Ariana murmured, remembering how surprised she’d been to overhear her brother’s and sister’s sudden, relentless shouting matches. Until then, Baxter had never raised his voice to Vanessa; to the contrary, he’d perpetually indulged her as his most beautiful and prized asset.

“On your brother’s behalf, Trent had, by that time, acquired a rather extensive reputation with the
ton’s
unattached young women,” Dustin added, attempting to soften some of the day’s upsetting revelations. “So I’m sure that added fuel to Baxter’s fire.”

“Was Trenton’s reputation earned?” Ariana heard herself ask.

Dustin’s brows rose. “I’m not sure I should answer that question.” Seeing the unmistakable distress and confusion in Ariana’s eyes, he enfolded her hand between his. “Sweetheart, Trenton is much older than you: It’s only natural that he—”