Andrea Kane (26 page)

To Ariana’s utter amazement, Trenton threw back his head and laughed. “I fear you’re right, misty angel. So I’ll take my leave and await your arrival to dine.”

Ariana watched him go, blinking dazedly at the closed door. The sound of Trenton’s laughter was exhilarating—as was the fact that she was its cause.

Happiness exploded inside her.

Bounding from the bed, Ariana hugged herself, giddy with a joyous anticipation that was long ago relinquished, but never truly forgotten. It was her childhood Christmas all over again, filled with that same tingling excitement, that wondrous promise of treasures soon to be possessed.

It was being loved.

Eyes aglow, Ariana walked naked to the window, savoring the wonderful gift she’d been given. It didn’t matter that Trenton’s feelings sprang from passion, for his tenderness told her that those feelings had now grown far beyond passion’s limited bounds. Nor, at this moment, could the menacing shadows of his past extinguish the joy in her heart, for it was her heart that had remained steadfast in its faith.

Leaning against the window frame, Ariana drank in her first resplendent view of Spraystone, knowing full well that at that moment hell itself would be paradise.

But Spraystone was truly glorious, showered in sunshine, blanketed by trees, sheltered amid spellbinding cliffs. A veritable Eden waiting to be explored.

Ariana bathed in record time. Standing before her wardrobe, she frowned. The thought of wearing layers of inhibiting clothing while touring this lush Utopia seemed not merely unappealing, but downright unacceptable. Perhaps it was her elation making her bold, but before she could change her mind, Ariana donned a simple fitted beige and check morning dress, beneath which she wore only her chemise and drawers and one thin petticoat.

Studying her reflection in the glass, Ariana grinned. She looked scandalously undressed, but hadn’t Trenton said Spraystone was deserted? She tied her hair back with a beige ribbon and, humming to herself, went in search of her husband.

He was, as promised, in the sitting room, an inviting haven of warm browns and greens that seemed to summon one into its cozy midst.

“How perfect!” Ariana exclaimed, running her fingers over the fine wooden walls. Immediately she noted that, in contrast to Broddington, these walls were lovingly lined with paintings, the whole room a study of authority and detail, Trenton’s touch evident in every magnificent inch. “There’s no doubt who designed Spraystone,” she murmured aloud. “You reveal yourself in every glorious dimension.”

“As do you.”

At Trenton’s pointed comment, Ariana blushed, glancing down at herself self-consciously. “I thought since we were going exploring—”

“A practical decision.” Surprising her yet again, Trenton unbuttoned his waistcoat and collar, tossing the waistcoat onto the settee and rolling up his sleeves. Hands on hips, he faced Ariana in only his white linen shirt and dark trousers. “Better?”

She blinked. “Why, yes …” Fascinated, she found herself staring at the dark, curling hair exposed on Trenton’s chest, wondering why she had never considered the fact that a man might be as restricted by his attire as a woman was.

“Keep looking at me like that and you may never see Spraystone,” Trenton warned huskily.

Ariana wet her lips. “I’ll take that chance,” she murmured.

He crossed over and cupped her flushed cheeks between his palms. “Let me show you at least the grounds, the barn, the animals.” He bent over, rubbing his lips softly to hers. “That will please you greatly … and deplete every ounce of my self-control. After which, neither heaven nor earth will prevent me from making love to you.”

Ariana gave a shaky laugh. “My excitement at exploring Spraystone grows dimmer by the minute,” she whispered.

His cobalt eyes caressed her, inside and out. “Then I’ll have to ensure that our explorations rekindle your excitement until it burns hotter than ever before,” he replied, his voice hushed with sensual promise.

“Let’s begin our tour immediately.”

“No breakfast?” Trenton’s eyes twinkled as he glanced at his timepiece. “Or, in this case, lunch?”

“I’m not hungry … for food.” Were those scandalous words really coming from
her?

Trenton pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her palm. “We’ll dine later.” His lips quirked. “Which brings me to another subject: Can you cook?”

“As a matter of fact … yes.”

“Good. Then Clara can extend her vacation … indefinitely.”

Ariana’s insides melted. “As can Gilbert.”

Trenton’s gaze smoldered. “Let’s begin our tour before I change my mind.”

Spraystone was as exquisite as Broddington—and yet utterly different in its allure. Where Broddington was a wealth of manicured lawns and flourishing gardens, Spraystone was a secluded haven, lush with trees, scented with honeysuckle and yellow gorse, tucked away just before the steep drop of the Chalk Cliffs plunged into the Solent.

Ariana drank it all in with an innocent abandon that enchanted Trenton, tugged insistently at some unknown place in his soul. The grounds, the birds, the flowers: All of this she opened her arms to, embraced, as one would a cherished friend.

“Trenton, this isn’t a barn, it’s an estate for animals!” Amazed, Ariana stared at the enormous structure that housed Trenton’s livestock. “Why, you have enough room here for hundreds of sheep, six dozen pigs, scores of chickens, and an army of dogs and cats.”

“And several dozen cows,” Trenton contributed.

“Why? What do you
do
with all of them?”

“Feed them well. And hopefully, as a result, obtain good-quality milk, dairy, wool …”

“I
know
what livestock provide,” she interrupted. “But you live here alone. Do you offer all these products for trade?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Is that one of your family businesses?”

“No.”

“Then …”

“The sheared wool is sent to England, where it is woven into cloth. Then it is delivered, along with milk and eggs, to the farmers that live on Wight.”

It took Ariana a minute to understand. “You mean you
give
these things to them?”

Trenton’s brows arched. “Is that so astonishing? I have a great deal of money. Most of the farm laborers here are quite poor, their homes old and neglected. I can provide them with the assistance they need.”

Pride swelled in Ariana’s chest. “You never told me this.”

“You never asked.”

“And I presume you restructure their homes as well?”

“I do what I can.”

She touched his arm. “What a wonderful man you are.”

He stared down at her caressing fingers, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “I’m not a wonderful man, Ariana. I’m bitter and cold and unfeeling. As I’ve continually warned you, don’t envision me as some romantic hero.”

“I don’t.” She stepped closer, conviction striking sudden and swift, born with all the impact of her earlier fear. “I see you as you are: a man with a great deal of pain locked up inside him … and a great deal of anger. I feel your rage, and I’m afraid. But I sense your goodness, and I’m renewed, for somehow I know it will triumph in the battle that tears you apart.”

“I could be a murderer,” he reminded her harshly.

The naked anguish in his tone obliterated her last vestige of doubt, “You could be.” She lay her hand against his jaw. “But you’re not.”

Roughly, he pulled her to him. “Damn you, Ariana,” he muttered into the scented cloud of her hair. “Why do you make me want to be the man you believe I am?”

She didn’t answer, only pressed her lips to the open expanse of his shirt.

He shuddered, his arms tightening reflexively around her. Pinpoints of feeling, long ago numbed, sprang to life, leaving him raw, exposed … terrified.

“Damn,” he hissed again, control evaporating in a heartbeat. He raised Ariana’s beautiful, flushed face to his, searching the trusting light in her eyes. “Misty angel … my exquisite, ethereal dreamer… why do you make me feel hope where none exists?”

Her answer crystallized with a life of its own. “I love you,” she whispered.

Trenton groaned, seizing her mouth with all the force of a drowning man. “My shelter from the storm,” he said gruffly against her lips. “Erase the darkness, if only for now. Surround me with your goodness, your faith. Love me, misty angel… love me.”

He crushed her in his arms, taking her tongue, her breath, devouring her with a passion that sprang more from the soul than the body. He kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her neck, her throat, his body leaping painfully as Ariana pressed hungrily against him, eager and unafraid.

“I’ve dreamed of making love to you here,” he breathed into her parted lips.

“At Spraystone?” she managed, barely able to speak.

“In the barn.” He was already unbuttoning her gown, his fingers shaking violently. “With nothing surrounding us but the animals and flowers you adore. With nothing under you but hay. With nothing under me but you.” He lowered his head, opening his mouth over the hardened outline of her nipples, tugging at them through the confines of her chemise.

Ariana cried out, her legs buckling beneath her. She clutched Trenton’s strong forearms for support, feeling the world tilt askew as he lowered her to their rough-soft mattress. Her nostrils filled with the powerful aroma of hay, and she lay mesmerized by the fires banking in her husband’s eyes, by the erotic images of what he intended.

Trenton unfastened the final button of her chemise, baring her to the waist, arching her into his mouth. The pleasure of his demanding lips and tongue was so acute Ariana thought she might faint. She cried out, again and again, twisting frantically in his arms.

When he released her, she was beyond modesty or thought. For the first time the aggressor, she dragged open his shirt, then stroked his flat male nipples with her thumbs. The already taut muscles of Trenton’s abdomen went rigid, a wordless hiss erupting from his chest.

Ariana didn’t pause. Shocking herself, she boldly reached down to press her palm to the hard ridge of flesh that pulsed beneath her husband’s trousers.

He caught her wrist. “I won’t get my clothes off in time,” he rasped.

“I’ll get them off for you.” She unfastened his trousers, pulling them down his hips.

Trenton shoved her inexperienced hands away long enough to shrug his shirt from his shoulders and drag his trousers down his legs. Kneeling over her, magnificently naked, he hauled her gown and undergarments off, following their path with his lips. He paused where her stockings began, nuzzling the bare skin of her thighs for an instant before he savagely tore all the impeding garments away. He lifted her feet to discard the crumpled material, wedging himself into the cradle of her thighs. Raising her legs over his shoulders, he sank his tongue into her sweetness, taking her with relentless, heated strokes, reveling in her cries of ecstasy. This time he didn’t pause at the height of sensation but took her over its shattering brink, holding her captive as she dissolved in his arms.

Ariana felt the world disintegrate, then rematerialize, her body still quivering with unbearable aftershocks. Her lids lifted as Trenton came down beside her, his eyes blazing with unsated passion, unspoken emotion. He moved urgently, reaching forward to drag her into his arms.

But Ariana acted more quickly.

Scrambling to her knees, she leaned over him, her hair a wild tumble of copper fire against his skin. Every bit the seductress, she was shameless this time, raking her nails lightly through the dark hair curling on his chest, bending to tease his nipples as he had hers. She thrilled to the way they tightened beneath her touch, exhilarated in her husband’s groan of pleasure. Avidly, she explored every muscled plane of his body, the coiled force and rough textures. She ran her hands over his powerful thighs, then settled between them, lovingly caressing his painfully rigid erection with soft sweeps of her fingertips.

Trenton went deadly still, his breathing suspended, as he endured the unendurable ecstasy of her touch. Grappling with his voracious hunger, he knew there could be no more exquisite a sensation than Ariana’s innocent hands learning him, touching him, feather-light and gentle.

He learned he was wrong.

When she took him in her mouth, needing to give him the same blinding sensations he’d given her, Trenton nearly exploded. Certain he’d never last, he commanded her to stop, even as his fingers tangled in her hair, urged her closer.

His climax was already upon him when he dragged her to her back, shoved her legs apart, and thrust wildly within her hot, clinging wetness. Like a man possessed, he poured blindly into her, the hard floor of the barn anchoring her to receive the endless flow of his seed.

Fervently, Ariana arched, taking all of her husband’s scorching release, pulling him as deep as her body would allow. She absorbed the tremor that shook his powerful frame, the hot, revealing declarations that were wrenched from his soul and wrapped herself around him, melding their passion, their hunger, their tenderness.

Her own climax shattered through her, unraveling in a series of shimmering convulsions that stole her breath, her heart—and made them even more completely his.

“I love you.”

She whispered the words again, not at the frenzied peak, but in the lulling aftermath, when Trenton would recognize their significance.

He did.

Inhaling shakily, he raised up on his elbows, confronting his wife’s declaration head-on. “Our bodies make magic together,” he admitted, stunned to hear even that revelation from his own lips. “But love? What is love, misty angel? Perhaps you can tell me.” He pressed his loins to hers, his flesh still fully imbedded in hers. “Is this love? This explosion of pleasure you bring me, this insatiable need to make you mine … is that love? Or is love something more? … A fierce commitment that renders you vulnerable, that only results in pain? I don’t know, Ariana. What is love?”

Ariana responded to the anguish in his eyes. “Love is wanting to be with someone, to share his life. It’s wanting to heal his suffering, to understand his past, to join herself to him … and not only with her body,” she returned, her gaze soft and candid.