Andrea Kane (25 page)

“Spraystone is beyond those cliffs,” Trenton informed Ariana, helping her disembark. His hands lingered on her waist. “Are you all right?”

Ariana felt Trenton’s fingers scorch her skin, searing through the layers of her gown and petticoats. “Yes,” she managed, forcing herself to focus on the impressive buildings housed within the manicured gardens and trees that defined the hillside of Ryde. “But I had no idea Ryde was so … big,” she finished lamely.

Trenton stroked his thumbs idly over her waist. “Union Street has schools, a post office, two banks, and a wonderful theatre,” he told her in a husky voice. “Sections of the Isle are quite sophisticated, although the pace is slower, the air fresher, more vibrant. Other sections are very rural, with isolated estates that have nothing surrounding them for miles and miles.” He paused. “Estates like Spraystone.”

“I see.” For the life of her, Ariana could think of nothing else to say. The lush forbiddance of her husband’s description melded with the heady scent of honeysuckle … and the devastating pull of Trenton’s presence. Wight’s enchantment wrapped itself around her, lured her, and Ariana surrendered, drowning in the Isle’s splendor and her own dizzy anticipation.

The ferry ride to Bembridge was brief, as silent as the trip from the mainland, but fraught with a different kind of tension. By the time the towering Chalk Cliffs appeared, just beyond the walls of a charming, tucked-away estate, Ariana wanted to scream with the unfamiliar frustration building inside her.

“We’ll travel the final part of our journey by foot,” Trenton murmured, taking Ariana’s elbow.

Even that casual contact made her tense. She nodded, following Trenton from the ferry and through the deserted acres of greenery for what seemed to be hours.

“We’re home,” he said at last, pointing.

Ariana’s head came up and she searched the cloak of trees until she found what she quickly recognized as the graceful manor she’d spotted earlier from the ferry.

“Well?” she heard Trenton ask, his tone drawn as tight as a bowstring.

“It’s lovely.” She could barely speak past the pounding in her chest.

“The barn is off to the side. Would you like to visit there first?”

Ariana stopped dead in her tracks, turning to look up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since they’d arrived. “Later,” she whispered, pretense and pride cast aside.

Trenton stared down at her, his eyes darkening to near black. “Damn,” he swore softly, capturing her shoulders and dragging her to him. He tangled his fingers in her hair, growling her name in a primitive sound of undeniable need, taking her mouth with a ferocity that echoed the wildness she felt pounding in her head.

Swinging Ariana into his arms, Trenton took the remaining distance to the house in broad, purposeful strides. He slammed the door behind him, mounted the steps two at a time, and carried her into the bedroom, dropping with her to the bed. They kissed, hungry, open-mouthed, again and again, simultaneously tugging off their clothes, as desperate to be one as if months, rather than days, had passed since they’d been together. When Trenton rose to shed his trousers, Ariana reached for him, uninhibited and urgent.

“My naked goddess,” he rasped, coming down over her. “If I don’t have you I’ll die.”

“Love me,” she demanded, opening herself to him. “Please, Trenton, I need …” Her plea ended in a moan of pleasure as his first fiery thrust stroked deep within her.

“Is this what you need?” he asked huskily, rolling over to seat her astride him, deepening his presence in her body until he had buried himself to the hilt in her warm wetness. “Is it, misty angel? Because it’s what
I
need … more than I need my next breath.” He withdrew, plunged deeper still. “Tell me, Ariana … I know you fear me, doubt me. But do you need me?”

Unable to speak, Ariana only nodded, the escalating pleasure too acute to bear. With a helpless whimper, she answered with her body, tightening her legs about Trenton’s flanks and beginning the rhythmic, deliberate undulations of her hips he had taught her.

Trenton threw back his head and groaned, valiantly battling the blazing climax that ignited his loins the moment he felt Ariana’s softness close around him. Determinedly, he fought, intent that this time, unlike the last, his wife would peak in his arms, be completely fulfilled long before he exploded inside her.

It was a war not destined to be won.

With a growl of unwilling capitulation, Trenton rolled Ariana to her back, pouring himself into her in a bottomless, wrenching release, utterly astonished by his total loss of control.

Equally astonished by his wife’s.

Ariana responded instantly, burying her face in Trenton’s damp shoulder and crying out his name, dissolving into shivering spasms that convulsed tightly around him, drawing him into her very core. Then, with a great, gulping sigh, she relaxed, lying quietly beneath him as the final tremors jolted his powerful frame.

“God, what you do to me …” Trenton got out between clenched teeth, blanketing her body with the weight of his.

“You do the same to me,” Ariana murmured, her voice shy.

Trenton inhaled sharply, raising up on his elbows and regarding her soberly, an odd expression on his face. “Strange, isn’t it? For your mind and body to be at war?”

“My heart and body are in agreement,” Ariana whispered, candor glowing in her eyes. “Only my mind is uncertain.”

“Not in bed, it isn’t.”

“No … not in bed.”

Trenton covered Ariana’s mouth with his, rocking slowly, sensuously, within her until he felt her heated response. “Then let’s relieve your mind of its burden,” he murmured against her parted lips. He slid his hands down the length of her legs, gliding them high around his waist. “Make love with me,” he urged softly, lowering his mouth to the curve of her breast. “All night.” He wet her hardening nipple with his tongue, waiting until she begged before he drew the achingly sensitive tip into his mouth, tugging and releasing until he felt Ariana’s nails score his back. “Until dawn … until day … until night,” he breathed, raising his hips only to plunge back inside her with a tantalizing force that made her cry out. “Again and again …” He bent to her other breast, arousing her to the point of insanity. “Until there’s nothing but this …” He withdrew and re-entered, deeper this time, her every aching pore open to his penetration, his rhythmic stroking. “And this …” He kissed her throat, her shoulders, her lips … taking her mouth with hot, lusty motions of his tongue; doubling his presence in her body with the sharp, probing lunges of his hips. “Are you still uncertain?” he whispered, cupping her soft bottom and lifting her into each deliberate thrust.

“No …” she gasped, winding her arms around his neck. “Oh, Trenton, no.”

Long hours later, Trenton rolled them gently to their sides, hauling a blanket over their joined naked bodies. “Can you wait until morning to see the barn and tour Spraystone?” he murmured into Ariana’s tangled hair.

“Ummm,” she returned, already half asleep.

Had her eyes been open, she would have seen the uncustomary tenderness on her husband’s face. As it was, she nestled against him, wondering sleepily how she could feel so safe with a madman … and how she could want him … love him … so very much.

“Sleep well, misty angel,” Trenton said softly, sifting his fingers through her thick auburn tresses. For long moments he just stared down at her, lost in thought. Then, cradling her in his arms, he closed his eyes.

Consciousness returned to Ariana in gradual stages of awareness. With a contented sigh, she sank into the downy pillows, snuggling instinctively against the solid column of warmth behind her.

“Are you awake?”

The question, accompanied by a possessive lightening of the strong arms wrapped around her waist, greatly accelerated Ariana’s waking process.

Instantly, reality returned.

“Yes.” Her voice was small, a trifle flustered. Arising with Trenton, so appealing in the gray light of dawn, seemed terribly awkward in the bright light of day—especially after her wanton behavior last night.

And it most definitely
was
the bright light of day. The sun streamed into the room, bathing it in lemon splendor; the hands of the clock announced that it was nearly noon.

Ariana started. “I’ve slept half the day away!”

Trenton nodded against her hair. “True.”

Something about his tone made Ariana suspicious. “How long have you been up?”

“An hour. Perhaps longer.”

“And you haven’t left the bed?”

“You prefer us to arise together,” he reminded her. “Besides”—he kissed her shoulder—“I was afraid you’d get lost if you wandered about by yourself.”

Ariana turned to face him. “You never did show me around last night,” she reminded him.

“As I recall, I was busy doing other things last night.”

She blushed. “We both were.”

“Yes.” He grinned. “I know.” His appreciative gaze fell to her naked breasts, the harsh lines about his eyes temporarily softening. “And I remember every one of them … in detail.”

Her blush deepening, Ariana followed his stare and had to deliberately check the urge to cover herself. Seeing the knowing lift of Trenton’s brows, she gave a self-conscious sigh, aware of how childish her reaction must seem, given her wild abandon a few hours earlier. “Forgive my naïveté.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” He nuzzled her neck. “Nor is there anything to hide. … Your body is exquisite.”

Ariana plucked at the sheet, feeling the need to explain her unwarranted shyness. “Lying naked … even just
being
naked … before a man is a new experience for me.”

“I know.”

“It makes me feel … awkward.”

“I know that too.” Trenton cleared his throat roughly, alerting Ariana to the gravity of his next words. “If I haven’t already said the words, let me say them now. It means a great deal for me to know I’m the only man you’ve ever permitted such liberties … the only man you’ve ever been with.”

Ariana blinked. “What a curious thing to say!” she blurted out without thinking. “You’re my husband! Who else would I have been with?” Instantly, she wanted to kick herself, recognizing both the foolishness of her question and the dangerous avenue this conversation was taking.

As she feared, Trenton’s features hardened, the predatory lines reappearing about his eyes and mouth. “Who indeed? Your question, Ariana, demonstrates a trusting sentimentality that is shared by few.”

This time Ariana answered cautiously, knowing she was entering the realm of the forbidden. “Do most women lie with men other than their husbands?”

A shadow crossed Trenton’s face: Whether sorrow or cynicism, she wasn’t certain. Then he shrugged. “Some do.”

Silently, Ariana considered her husband’s reply. “Did you expect I was one of them?” she asked at last.

Trenton’s expression instantly softened, and he shook his head, caressing Ariana’s smooth cheek with his knuckles. “No, my refreshing misty angel, I knew you were very much a virgin.” His penetrating cobalt gaze dropped to her lips. “An incredibly passionate virgin,” he added huskily. “So extraordinarily responsive that, had I not worn you out until dawn, I would most assuredly keep you in bed through nightfall.” Slowly, he brought their mouths together, fusing their lips with a fierce intensity that burned through Ariana like wildfire.

Abruptly, Trenton released her, his hot, restless stare and unsteady breathing clearly revealing the cost of his self-restraint. “With that in mind,” he managed, rolling to his feet, “we’d best get up and eat something before we starve.”

In a heartbeat, the enchantment vanished.

Reflexively, Ariana drew her knees up and wrapped the blanket around her, assailed by the same inner chill that repeatedly accompanied her physical separation from her husband. She knew his emotional withdrawal was directly related to his comment on faithless women. He’d been referring, of course, to Vanessa and his belief that she’d deceived him.

Had she?

The familiar combination of confusion and dread welled up inside Ariana, ghosts of the past hovering like a dark mist over her happiness.

“Would you care to tour Spraystone now?”

Ariana sat up, brushing strands of hair from her face, noting that Trenton was already fully dressed. “Yes, but I’d like to have a bath first,” she replied uncertainly, trying to interpret her husband’s mood. He seemed brooding, removed—yet devoid of the harsh fury he normally manifested after their long hours of lovemaking. “Would that be possible?”

“Of course.” Trenton hadn’t budged, his intimate scrutiny lingering on Ariana’s bare throat and shoulders. Then with a deep swallow, he gestured sharply toward the bathroom. “I’ll wait for you in the sitting room. It’s down the stairs, the first room on your right.”

Ariana nodded again, lowering her eyes.
Now
what should she do? Wait for Trenton to take his leave? Or arise, stark naked, while he stood before her?

“You’ll find your clothing in the wardrobe,” Trenton prompted. “I sent our bags on ahead and Clara unpacked before we arrived.”

Clara. Ariana recalled the name at once. Trenton had mentioned that she was the wife of his manservant, Gilbert.

That recollection prompted a thought. “You said Theresa couldn’t join me because Spraystone had no provisions—”

“Clara and Gilbert work here,” Trenton answered her unfinished question. “They do not live here. Their home is in Bembridge. I’ve given them a few days off,” he added.

“I see.”

Trenton’s eyes continued to bore into her, she could feel them. Nervously, she contemplated her knees.

“I trust you don’t require servants to bathe?” he addressed her lowered head.

Ariana’s fists gripped the sheets. “I am quite skilled at bathing myself.”

“Ah.” Trenton sighed heavily. “A pity. I was about to offer my assistance.”

Ariana’s chin came up, her startled gaze darting to his.

“Ah, so you
can
look at me,” he drawled.

Seeing the glint of humor in her husband’s eyes, Ariana realized with a rush of joyful surprise that he’d actually been
teasing
her. “Thank you … perhaps another time,” she returned, eagerly embracing his uncustomary banter. “But in this case I fear your assistance would result in another delayed tour of Spraystone.”