Andrea Kane (27 page)

“I’m not sure I’m capable of an emotion that vast.”

“I
am
sure.”

For a long moment he was silent, studying her flushed face from beneath hooded lids. “And trust, misty angel?” he asked hoarsely. “Is not trust part of love as well?”

Ariana drew a slow, trembling breath, aware of the crucial nature of this never-before-broached question. “Yes, trust is most definitely part of love.”

“Is it? Well then, do you trust me?” Cynicism darkened his expression.

“Most times … yes.”

“Most times.” Trenton fought the jolt of disappointment that claimed him. Well, what the hell had he expected?

“Trenton, please, don’t pull away.” Ariana tightened her arms about his back. “I
want
to trust you completely, but I don’t know how. You insist on closing me off … from your life, your past and all your grim secrets … even though those secrets involve my sister’s death. What am I to think?”

“But you love me, remember? If trust is an integral part of love, shouldn’t one automatically imply the other?”

“That’s not fair,” Ariana whispered.

“Life’s not fair, misty angel.” Trenton pressed his forehead to hers, another layer of his implacable, self-protective wall crumbling. “Give me time.”

Ariana knew how much that request cost him, and her heart swelled with joy and compassion. “All that you need.” She breathed the words against his skin, feeling more a wife than she had in all their hours of lovemaking combined. “And Trenton?”

“What?”

“I can’t promise I’ll never fear you, or even occasionally doubt you. But I can promise I won’t stop loving you.”

Trenton raised his head. “You have no reason to trust me, Ariana, nor to believe in my innocence. You’ve been a Caldwell for eighteen years, and a wife for three days. I don’t expect a forced marriage to a virtual stranger to hold up against a lifetime of your brother’s teachings.”

A tiny smile touched Ariana’s lips. “Give me time.”

Tenderness softened the anguished lines about Trenton’s eyes.

“All that you need.”

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY ARIANA
lost her heart again—this time to the Isle of Wight.

Strolling through the village of Bembridge, climbing the cliffs overlooking the Solent, and running along the crystalline waters nearing Osborne Bay—this time having abandoned not only all her petticoats, but her stockings and slippers as well—Ariana’s passion for Wight was immediate and overwhelming.

“Is the whole island like this?” She wriggled her toes in the sand.

Trenton felt as if he were discovering his home all over again. “No, actually, the southern half of the Isle is completely different, though just as beautiful. Rather than being quaint and picturesque, the south is much more dramatic, filled with deep ravines and sharp, jutting rocks. I’ll take you there later this week and you can see which you prefer.”

“Can we walk farther along this stretch of beach?”

“A bit, yes.” He shielded his eyes, peering into the distance. “Osborne House is just a mile or so from here.”

“Oh.” Ariana looked crestfallen. “Then we’d best head back.”

“Why?”

“Trenton, even I know that the Queen’s grounds are not open to the public.”

This, at least, he knew he could give her. “Would you feel better if I were to tell you that Victoria would have no objections to our strolling the grounds of Osborne?”

Ariana’s eyes opened like saucers. “Truly?”

“Truly. The Queen and my family have been friends for many years.”

“That’s right; how could I forget? Her Majesty issued the edict for our marriage.”

Trenton looked quickly at Ariana, searching her face for bitterness or regret. He found none. “Yes, she did. But not merely as a gesture of friendship.” He wasn’t certain why, but suddenly he needed to give Ariana some portion of truth. “The day following the Covington ball, Princess Beatrice suffered a boating mishap in Osborne Bay. I happened to hear her calls for help.”

“You rescued her?”

“It was nothing dramatic. Nevertheless, Victoria was exceeding grateful. She insisted on granting my most fervent wish. I sought but one thing: vengeance against your family for ruining my life. Thus, the edict.” He waited.

“Then I owe the Queen my thanks, for without her unwanted interference you and I would never have wed.” Ariana gave him a brief, dazzling smile.

A knot of emotion coiled in Trenton’s chest. He opened his mouth to reply but never got the chance.

“Trenton, listen!” Ariana pressed her finger to her lips, cocking her head intently to one side.

“To what? All I hear is a—”

“It’s a cuckoo! Come!” She seized his arm, urging him to follow her. “Quickly!” Raising her skirts, she sprinted up the beach, away from the bird’s noisy call, until she finally collapsed onto the sand about a quarter of a mile farther north.

“What was all that about?” Trenton easily reached his wife’s side and dropped down beside her.

“Didn’t you hear the cuckoo?”

“Of course I did. How could anyone miss that persistent screech?”

“He was repeating himself for a reason: That’s his way of offering us good fortune.”

“Now I am truly at sea.” Trenton absently smoothed the layers of wet sand from Ariana’s gown.

“Has no one ever told you that legend?” She sounded amazed, her tone sympathetic, as if Trenton had been denied something incredibly significant. “Whenever you hear the cuckoo’s call, you begin to run, counting each call that follows, until you can no longer hear him. Whatever number you’ve reached will be the number of years added to your life.” Ariana stared up the sky. “The summer is nearly gone. … I very seldom see a cuckoo about. This one obviously visited for the sole purpose of bringing us additional time to enjoy all this splendor!”

Trenton stretched his legs in front of him. “A true miracle,” he commented dryly. “So tell me, misty angel, how many total years have been added to your life, given that this is probably the fiftieth cuckoo you’ve discovered?”

“You don’t believe me.”

He turned, caught by the disappointment in her voice. “It isn’t you, Ariana. I believe in very little.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “What I don’t understand is why your cynicism is so ingrained. Your life is rich with blessings. Surely you haven’t always been consumed with anger?”

“No … not always.” Shadows cloaked his face, resounded in his voice.

“Dustin is a wonderful brother,” Ariana persisted, ignoring the warning tremor that shivered up her spine. “Surely he must bring you some measure of joy?”

“Dustin has been my lifeline these past years. He’s not only the finest of brothers, but the very best of friends.”

“You’re fortunate. Most people would give anything for such a loving relationship.”

The wistfulness in her tone obliterated Trenton’s customary reticence, replacing it with the unexpected need to comfort. “Theresa seems as devoted to you as if she were your mother.”

A fond smile touched Ariana’s lips at the mention of Theresa’s name. “She is. I’m terribly grateful for her. … She gives me not only love, but a sense of balance.” Ariana tossed Trenton an impish look. “You probably haven’t noticed, but I have a tendency to lose touch with reality.”

“Really? How surprising,” Trenton returned her teasing. “And when is that? When you are pursuing birds?”

“Or pursuing whatever fantasy calls out to me.” She wrapped her arms about her knees. “Sometimes dreams are infinitely preferable to reality.”

Instantly, he sobered. “Has your life been so very difficult?”

“Oh, no. Never difficult. I was permitted to live as I pleased, with little or no demands placed on me.” Ariana scooped up a handful of sand, sifting it slowly as she spoke, remembering a childhood as fleeting as the grains that passed between her fingers. “I suppose I always wanted something that was distinctly mine, something that gave me a sense of identity. Once Mama and Papa died, it was as if I were floating. Baxter and Vanessa were already grown, their paths in life clear. Baxter was the brilliant businessman, destined to manage the Caldwell assets. Vanessa was an unequivocal beauty, the epitome of social grace and charm. And I? I was neither, not brilliant nor beautiful. Even as a child I possessed no outstanding quality to set me above or apart. In short, I was average. It was up to me to find my own niche. So when I got older, I did. I discovered nature. I’ve never been sorry.”

Shrugging philosophically, she turned to Trenton and was stunned to see the restrained fury on his face. With a sudden jolt of comprehension, she realized what she’d just said.

“I’m sorry, Trenton. I didn’t mean to bring up Vanessa.”

“How could you think that?” Trenton interrupted angrily.

“Think what?”

“That you are average, that your brother and sister were superior, enviable. Good Lord, Ariana, don’t you know the truth?” Trenton pushed on before he could reconsider. “Your
brilliant
brother has done nothing but squander away your family’s money.”

“He didn’t mean to. It’s only that—”

“And as for Vanessa …” The words poured out of Trenton’s mouth on their own accord. “Yes, your sister was a dazzling, blindingly beautiful woman, but that’s where it ended. Your beauty is far more vivid, richer. Don’t you see yourself?” He shook his head in wonder. “You really don’t, do you? You don’t see how incredibly beautiful you are, how intelligent, how special? Damn it, Ariana, there is
nothing
average about you!”

“Trenton, don’t.” Ariana abruptly rose, turning her back to him. “Don’t lie to me. I can learn to endure your secrets, but I cannot bear your lies. I know just who I am, and that is neither Baxter nor Vanessa. I’m not practical enough to be considered overly intelligent. … My head is always in the clouds. And although I’m hardly unpleasant to look at, I will never approach my sister in beauty. So let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Trenton came to his feet, then turned Ariana to face him and cupped her chin. “Your head
is
in the clouds, misty angel. You’re such a warm-hearted, oblivious little fool.” He stared at her, an odd, faraway light dawning in his eyes. “Someday you’ll realize the truth. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to tell you.”

Ariana caught his wrist, slowly shaking her head. “No.” She was stunned to hear herself refuse. “I don’t want to hear the truth … at least not this part of it. I don’t think I can bear hearing about your feelings for Vanessa. I suppose I’m a coward, but I can’t help it. Forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” He laughed harshly. “I assure you, misty angel, there’s nothing to forgive. I only hope that one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Soberly, she stared up at him. “Let’s not discuss my life … or forgiveness … any more. I want to learn about you … not the Trenton of these past six years, but the Trenton who lived before.”

He was silent, his expression guarded. “There isn’t much I can add,” he answered at last. “I’ve already told you about my schooling, my sketching. …”

“Did you and Dustin quarrel a lot?”

“I suppose we did on occasion.” The abrupt change in subject mystified him. “Why?”

“Did you share confidences? Protect each other from outsiders? Stand up for each other with your parents?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” Trenton laughed. “Why does my relationship with Dustin interest you so?”

Ariana’s eyes glowed as she pictured the two boys she’d seen in the photographs. “I told you, I’ve never had a true sibling. Vanessa and Baxter were more like parents to me, especially since my real parents died when I was a child.”

“Do you remember your father and mother?” Idly, Trenton rumpled her auburn tresses, watching the sunlight catch the bright strands and ignite them into copper fire.

“A bit. Mostly what I remember are our Christmases.”

“Why your Christmases?”

“Because they were magic. When Mama and Papa were alive, Christmas at Winsham was a fairy tale come true. I remember everything: decorating the tree, hanging the mistletoe from the ceiling while I sat on Papa’s shoulders, sneaking batter from the cookies Mama baked. Most of all, I remember that wondrous feeling: excitement, anticipation, and joy all rolled into one, an emotion so vast it made you want to hug yourself even while it caused butterflies to form in your stomach that kept you awake all night. But morning would finally come and all of us would topple down the stairs to the sitting room, gathered around the fireplace where we belonged … a real family. …” Startled, Ariana realized she was crying. “I’m sorry,” she said shakily, wiping her cheeks. “We’re supposed to be talking about you. I didn’t mean to go on like that, nor did I expect to become so emotional. It’s just that I haven’t had Christmas since …”

“Don’t explain.” Trenton cut her off hoarsely, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Don’t even try.”

Slowly, Ariana’s arms slid around him as she gratefully accepted the comfort she had long craved but never received. “Maybe we could spend this Christmas at Spraystone,” she whispered hopefully against his chest. “We could gather evergreen sprigs and perhaps some chrysanthemums and camellias and black ivy berries. Then, if it snows, we could watch the world turn white, and the wrens would sing and the sparrows—”

“Yes,” Trenton agreed huskily, his arms tightening around her. “We can do all that, misty angel. I promise.”

She raised her head. “Broddington holds nothing for you, does it?”

“To the contrary, Ariana, it’s hold is powerful … and terribly painful.”

“Because you lost your father there?” Seeing Trenton’s expression, she knew instantly he intended to shut her out. With a gentle, beseeching look, she reached up to touch his cheek. “Please tell me. I’ll do my best to understand.”

Trenton’s lips twisted bitterly. “It was a long time ago, Ariana. Too much has happened that can never be undone.”

“Dustin told me that your father’s death was sudden, despite his depleted health. Is that true?”

Silence.

“Trenton?”

“Yes, dammit, it’s true!” He jerked away, turning his back to the reminders her questions brought.

“He died just after Vanessa,” Ariana persisted. “Are the two events related?” She saw her husband’s shoulders stiffen and softly added, “I’ve told you I don’t believe you killed Vanessa. Why won’t you talk to me?”