"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-"
"I'm well aware of that, Dustin," she interrupted, pushing her nagging jealousy to the far recesses of her mind. "I'm not questioning the reasons for Trenton's past relationships. But he's so formidable, so menacing. Weren’t women afraid of him?"
"Ariana..." Dustin stared down at the small hand clasped in his. "Trent is not the same man he was years ago. Oh, he's always been the intense sort, deeply passionate about what he believes in. But in his twenties he was more congenial, charming, sociable... with none of the bitterness you see now. His natural magnetism and self-assurance, combined with that overwhelming sense of power he emanates... No, Ariana, women weren't afraid of him. Quite the contrary, actually."
"What happened to change him?" Ariana persisted, fighting the jealousy that once again reared its ugly head.
A pained expression tightened Dustin's face. "Our father died."
Ariana leaned closer, feeling she was hovering at the brink of a crucial precipice. "You told me Trenton and your father were very close."
"Very. Trenton ran all the family businesses and estates during the last years of Father's life. He gave up much of his youth, his education, his dreams. He was the most bloody devoted son I've ever seen."
"Was your father's death sudden?"
Harsh memories slashed across Dustin's face, drawing his mouth into a grim line of sorrow. "He had been weak for some time. But yes, his death was sudden."
"Was it precipitated by the shock of what Trenton did to Vanessa?" Ariana blurted out.
Dustin flung her hand aside as if her touch burned. "What Trenton did to Vanessa? Hell, Ariana, Trenton did nothing to Vanessa... It was very much the other way around!" Raking Ariana with condemning eyes, Dustin demanded, "Don’t you realize my brother could never have lived with himself if he'd actually caused Father's death? As it is, he's torn apart. I thought I knew you, Ariana, but it appears that I don't. Not if you really believe what you just said."
Dustin's biting accusation pushed her over the edge.
Shattering into raw fragments, Ariana burst into tears, burying her face in her hands and shaking uncontrollably. "I don't know what to believe," she sobbed. "I'm so confused... Help me, Dustin, I don't know what to do. Please, help me."
Regretfully, Dustin gathered her against him, pressing her head beneath his chin and stroking her back in soothing circles. "Shhh," he murmured, feeling her tears drench his shirt. "Of course I'll help you. Poor sweetheart, you don’t know truth from lies at this point, do you? I'm sorry... I didn't mean to explode like that. It's not your fault; you're too young to remember, too innocent to protect yourself. Don't cry, little one, I'll help you."
"If my wife needs assistance, I'll provide it."
Ariana from at the sound of Trenton's frigid words, her heart hammering frantically in her chest. The aftermath of her husband's violent assault still lingered on her lips, in her mind, and instinctively she burrowed closer to Dustin, seeking protection and comfort. Simultaneously, she realized how compromising they must look, clasped in each other's arms on the stable floor, clinging together as if they were involved in some sordid tryst.
She had no time to react before Trenton's hand closed roughly on her arm, dragging her away from Dustin and to her feet. "Did you need something, Wife?"
Ariana blanched beneath his blazing stare, his jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might snap.
"Trent... don't!" Dustin rose swiftly, stunned by the raw fury he saw etched on his brother's face-at the same time fully aware of its true cause. "Stop now before you do something you'll regret!"
"Before I do something I'll regret?" Trenton hurled back, his throat working convulsively. "I find my wife rolling around on the stable floor... with my brother, no less... and you want me to control myself?" His fingers bit into Ariana's arm. "Did I come in at an inopportune moment?"
Ariana winced. "You're hurting me," she whispered.
"Am I?" He released her abruptly and, without thinking, she took a reflexive step toward Dustin.
Thunder erupted in Trenton's eyes. "Don't push me, Ariana. I'm warning you, don't push me."
She turned to Dustin, white-faced.
"Go back to the house, sweetheart," he told her, his disbelieving gaze on Trenton. "I want to have a talk with my brother."
"Dustin," she protested, "I..."
"Fear not, misty angel." Trenton's tone was caustic, savage. "I'll restrain myself... I won't murder Dustin."
Ariana stared at him, taking in his rage, his jealousy, the full impact of his
power. Then, sick at heart, she heeded Dustin's suggestion and left the stable.
"You really have lost your mind, haven't you?" Dustin exploded the moment they were alone.
"You've noticed?" Trenton countered, kicking a pile of hay from his path.
"I've noticed a lot of things. It's time you noticed them as well."
"Are you referring to your feelings for my wife?"
"No... I'm referring to your feelings for your wife."
Trenton's eyes narrowed menacingly. "At this particular moment I'd like to throttle her. And if I'm correct, she fully expects me to do just that. Or worse."
"I don't blame her. You're behaving like a ruthless maniac."
"And you're going to save her from me, is that it?"
Dustin snorted. "Enough of this idiotic drivel, Trent. We both know there's nothing between Ariana and me."
"Then what is this about?"
"It's about the fact that you're falling in love with your wife."
Shock, undiluted and profound, registered on Trenton's face, altering quickly back to rage. Had Dustin been less observant or less adept at reading his brother’s reactions, he would have missed the fraction of an instant that bridged the two emotions; an instant in which absolute raw panic dominated Trenton’s expression.
But Dustin was both observant and adept, so he just leaned casually against the wall, watching as Trenton slammed his fists against the stall door, shouting vehement denials, followed by a vivid stream of expletives.
"The idea is less than acceptable, I presume?" Dustin inquired cheerfully over the din of his brother's bluster.
Trenton kicked the stall door wide and advanced furiously on Dustin. "Acceptable? It's ludicrous! You know damned well why I married Ariana! She's a Caldwell. The last Caldwell. And if by wrenching her away from Winsham I caused her brother endless suffering, it was worth the sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?" Dustin cocked a brow in Trenton's direction, entirely unbothered by the dark inferno stalking him.
Trenton came to an abrupt halt. "All right, perhaps sacrifice is too strong a word."
"I should say so." Dustin's teeth gleamed in the semi-darkened stall. "Considering the amount of time you and your sacrifice spend in bed."
"I've never denied wanting Ariana. She's a beautiful woman. But what you’re seeing is lust, not love."
"Is it?" Dustin grew serious. "I think not. Be honest with yourself, Trent. Aren’t your feelings for Ariana surprisingly intense, considering the enmity that instigated your marriage?"
"All my reactions to the Caldwell
s are intense."
"I'm not discussing your animosity."
Trenton's anger hovered an instant longer, then ebbed into ambivalence. "She’s so damned innocent," he muttered. "And she embraces life with such trusting faith. I suppose there's a part of me that wants to shield her... from the demons of the past..." His voice became low, his gaze haunted by indiscernible ghosts. "And from me."
Regaining his composure, Trenton stared at his brother, his eyes glittering fiercely. "So what you're observing is protectiveness and perhaps a little pity."
"You're not ready to see it, are you?" Dustin noted quietly, shaking his head. "Baxter Caldwell obviously did even more damage to you than he realized."
"I'm not sure that's possible," Trenton replied bitterly. "Nor am I certain that I'm capable of the kind of love you're suggesting. But, even if I am, it could never be with the sister of-"
"I've said it before and I'll say it again, Trent: She's not Vanessa."
Trenton inhaled sharply. "I know that only too well."
"Ariana's not just different; she's very special. And you're too damned pigheaded to appreciate it."
"That's irrelevant. This war is not about Ariana."
"But you're using her as ammunition, which situates her right in the heart of the battle."
"'Then what do you suggest?" Trenton demanded. "That I let go of the past? We’ve been through this time and again, Dustin. I simply cannot do that. Tell Ariana the truth? Half the time I'm not even sure what that truth is. Furthermore, she'd never believe me... not after her enlightening afternoon at Winsham. So what option does that leave me?"
Dustin straightened. "Take Ariana away... as far away from the root of your hatred as possible."
Some of the tension seemed to drain from Trenton's body. "Away?... Where?"
"To Spraystone. You could put some distance between her and her fears, allow her to enjoy herself for a change. These past weeks haven't exactly been easy ones for her... First the Queen's edict, and now your turbulent marriage."
"Spraystone," Trenton repeated thoughtfully. "I never considered taking her there... It's hardly a grand estate, the type the average young woman dreams of residing in."
"There's nothing average about Ariana." Dustin's grin returned. "Spraystone is plush with greenery, alive with birds and animals. Your bride would adore it."
"You're forgetting something," Trenton interjected, scowling. "Ariana and I would be virtually alone. And at the moment, that thought would terrify her."
"The Isle is far from uninhabited," Dustin reminded him. "Introduce her to Princess Beatrice, let her meet the folks of Bembridge, teach her to sail. Bring along the croquet set, if it would make her feel more secure. Then she can throttle you with a mallet if you become too threatening."
"Do you really believe she'd be pleased?" Trenton asked gruffly, ignoring Dustin’s jest.
"Try her."
A pensive silence. "It would keep her away from her brother's vicious claws."
"Definitely."
"And perhaps ease some of the burden she's been forced to bear," Trenton added, warming to the idea.
"Precisely."
A suspicious look flitted across Trenton's face. "Did you plan to join us?"
Dustin carefully schooled his features, desperately fighting the urge to laugh. "No, actually I'd best be getting back to Tyreham. My colt is being readied for the fall races at Newmarket. I'll be needed." He inclined his head. "That is, unless you'd prefer me to accompany you."
"No." The word erupted from Trenton's mouth with the speed and force of a bullet. "Actually, what I'd prefer is for you to stay the hell away from my wife."
Despite his best efforts, Dustin's lips twitched. "Ah... I see. I suppose that could be arranged. Although, as you yourself pointed out, Ariana is an incredibly beautiful woman. She's also intelligent and sensitive, and..."
"Dustin, I'm not finding you at all amusing." Trenton's voice exuded a clear warning.
"Jealous, Trent? Now that is surprising, considering the fact that emotions play no part in your marriage."
"Dustin..."
Ignoring Trenton's furious admonition, Dustin chuckled, patting his brother’s arm. "First thing in the morning, I'll leave for Tyreham... and you and Ariana will leave for Spraystone. Now I would suggest you go tell your bride to pack."
Trenton gazed soberly toward the house where Ariana had fled in order to escape his wrath. Lord alone knew what she was thinking, feeling. Shock and bewilderment, at best. And no one could alleviate that but him.
Chapter Thirteen
Ariana was still trembling when she curled up in the center of her bed. She wanted to bury herself in the thick quilt and block out the world, the day, her meeting with Baxter: everything.
Not to mention her husband's violent, erratic behavior.
If she'd been frightened before, she was petrified now.
Trenton's venom had been a tangible entity, powerful enough to-she forced herself to complete her thought-to kill.
Her mind drifted back to Vanessa's letter. Was that the jealousy Trenton had demonstrated six years ago? Had that irrational, overwhelming possessiveness made her fear for her life?
Pressing her face into the pillow, Ariana battled the relentless images that slashed through her mind. Twice she'd fallen victim to Trenton’s out-of-control jealousy: first, yesterday when he'd stormed across Broddington's front lawn, accusation blazing in his eyes after her croquet lesson with Dustin. And then again, just now in the stables.
Did he actually believe she and Dustin would deceive him?
Ariana's hands balled into defensive fists, leaving deep impressions in the soft feather pillow.
She could understand, if not condone, Trenton's lack of faith in her. She was his wife, yes, but still a veritable stranger, intimate in bed, but not in fact. He'd had no occasion to discover that, unlike her brother, she possessed a fierce sense of loyalty and an unbreachable set of principles. In Trenton’s mind, she was simply a Caldwell: devoid of value, unworthy of trust.
But Dustin? Did Trenton truly believe his brother would ever deceive him, let alone disgrace him in his own home? The very concept was untenable. Surely Trenton must know that.
A gnawing possibility emerged, rearing its ugly head in Ariana's mind. Could it be, just as Baxter had said, that Trenton was genuinely unable to retain any degree of reason when it came to what he considered his possessions-a category in which she now very much fell? Under certain circumstances, was he beyond rational thought even when the supposed indiscretion involved his own brother?
That question brought her thinking back to Dustin: Dustin who had been nothing but wonderful to her... until she'd implied that Trenton could be guilty of killing Vanessa. Then, from a warm and sensitive friend, Dustin had been instantly transformed into an angry and scornful stranger.
Not only had he defended his brother vehemently, he'd also implied it was Vanessa who had been the true culprit. What on earth had he meant by that?
And Dustin's reaction disturbed Ariana for another reason. Despite his love for Trenton, Dustin's verbal onslaught and irrational partiality were totally inconsistent with his personality. She had spent enough time in his company to recognize his innate objectivity, even when it came to assessing the behavior of those he loved. And yet, in this case, he was adamant in his conviction that Trenton was innocent-in spite of all the tangible evidence he must know. Why?
The answer was simple. Dustin believed in his brother, not with a sense of blind sibling loyalty, but with an absolute certainty that struck Ariana with all the force of a boulder. Because deep inside her she knew that Dustin wouldn't be so sure if there weren’t a solid basis for his belief.
Pushing herself to a sitting position, Ariana dashed the tears from her cheeks, wondering uneasily what undisclosed details of the past Baxter had neglected to relay to her-and how she could uncover them. She might have learned more from Dustin if Trenton hadn't broken into the stables like a jealous
madman, interrupting their conversation.
One thing she had managed to learn was that the subject of Richard Kingsley evoked great emotion in both brothers and that neither of them seemed willing to discuss the details of his death.
Elbows on her knees, Ariana leaned forward speculatively, resting her chin on her hands. Richard Kingsley had died very shortly after Vanessa. That much she knew. If his death hadn't been caused by the shock of his elder son's crime, then what had precipitated his sudden passing? And why did both Trenton and Dustin seem so determined to shroud the circumstances surrounding the late duke’s passing in mystery?
Ariana frowned. She had nowhere to turn for her answers. She'd never resort to questioning outsiders; that would both embarrass and scandalize her husband. So how could she gain more information about Richard Kingsley without alerting Dustin and Trenton to her intent and without resurrecting old wounds that could only hurt the Kingsley name?
Trenton's sitting room.
The idea sprang into her head, an answer and a challenge. What a perfect starting point! She would go to Trenton's sitting room, explore a bit... and maybe learn something.
Filled with a sense of purpose, Ariana came to her feet with a thud. She hadn’t the slightest notion of what she hoped to find in a room that was virtually bare, but any shred of Richard Kingsley's memory, no matter how small, would be well worth an investigation of those barren walls. She’d intended to visit the room anyway to begin planning its redecoration-a feat she was determined to accomplish.
Quickly, Ariana ran a comb through her disheveled hair, the vision of Trenton’s anguished expression when he'd spoken of his aversion to the sitting room, to the pain and loss it elicited, materializing instantly in her mind. Why that picture caused her such pain, considering her own fears and misgivings-not to mention Trenton's bizarre, contradictory behavior toward her-she couldn't say. Perhaps it was Dustin's trust in Trenton, perhaps it washer own instinctual faith. She only knew that she desperately wanted to do this for her husband; that if she could give him nothing else, she would give him this small realm of peace, this place to call his own.
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