"We have to take care of him, Trenton. I'll never ask another thing of you...but please help me save him."
Wordlessly, Trenton gathered the injured bird, then rose and moved toward the barn entrance. "We'd better hurry... before he awakens and scratches my eyes out."
"Thank you," Ariana said simply, rising to follow.
While Trenton held the owl, Ariana hurried inside and located a small crate. "Put him in the far corner of the barn, where it's warm," she instructed, carrying the makeshift cage with her. She waited while Trenton placed the owl on the ground, then lowered the crate over his inert form. "Now he'll be confined until he's strong enough to fly."
"I'm impressed," Trenton acknowledged. "Though I don't know why I should be. You’ve obviously cared for sick birds before."
"Yes... but this one's special." She knelt beside the crate. "He's free to soar the skies... yet he finds me whenever I need him: my own precious symbol of hope. He's like you, Trenton: offering so much, yet always searching, uncertain where he really belongs, seeking to find out."
Her gaze softened as she stared at the owl. "My extraordinary wanderer... my Odysseus." She sighed. "Perhaps we're all really alike in the end: All of us wanderers, all of us searching, venturing into the world in the hopes of discovering our true purpose."
"So profound. And still you doubt your value, misty angel." Trenton leaned over, gathering her silken masses of auburn hair and pressing his lips to her nape. "I fear that your vision is far worse than that of your beloved Odysseus. He is blind only to glass. You, on the other hand, are blind to your own worth." Gently, Trenton drew her to her feet, silencing whatever she was about to say by laying a finger across her lips. "Your patient needs his sleep. As do you, if you want to be strong enough to properly nurse him back to health. Let's go to bed."
Ariana glanced over her shoulder, chewing her lip hesitantly. "I don't want to leave him. What if he awakens? He'll be frightened." She turned back to Trenton. "You go to bed. I'll join you later."
Trenton didn't answer. Soberly, he regarded his wife, then silently left the barn.
Feeling the evening chill set in, Ariana curled up beside the crate, wrapping her arms about herself for warmth. She wondered if she'd angered her husband by refusing to accompany him. If so, she couldn't blame him. After all, such devotion to an owl probably struck him as bizarre.
The barn door creaked, and a moment later Trenton sank down beside her, wrapping a blanket around them both. "Now at least we won't catch pneumonia,” he muttered.
Ariana looked up, surprise, then gratitude, and finally tenderness registering on her face. "No," she whispered. "We won't."
The tawny eyes opened, blinked dazedly, slid shut, then opened again. Slowly, the owl lifted his head, peering unsteadily through the slats of the crate, meeting the sensitive scrutiny of his rescuer.
"Don't be frightened, Odysseus," Ariana soothed, her heart aching at the disorientation clouding his magnificent topaz stare. "You're all right now. No one is going to hurt you."
In response, Odysseus's head drooped back into the hay, and his eyes closed.
"Trenton..." Instinctively, Ariana gripped her husband's arm beneath the blanket.
"He's only sleeping, misty angel." Trenton was as awake as she. "Listlessness and confusion are perfectly normal following a concussion."
"What can we do for him?"
"For now, nothing. He did awaken, and that's a good sign. He'll probably sleep a great deal over the next few days. We're keeping him warm and confined. Now we’ll have to be patient."
"He must get well," she breathed, half to herself; thinking of all the times Odysseus had appeared when she'd needed him most, praying she could remedy his suffering in return.
"He will." Trenton framed her anxious face between his palms. "I give you my word."
"How can you be so certain?"
Trenton brushed her cold lips with his thumb. "Because faith as unwavering as yours has the power to heal far more than a mere concussion."
Ariana's tightly drawn expression relaxed, a warm glint lighting her eyes. "I thought you didn't believe in healing."
"I thought I didn't believe at all."
Tenderly, Ariana raised up and kissed her husband's mouth. Easing back on her haunches, she yawned. "I'm suddenly very sleepy. And now that I no longer doubt Odysseus will recover, I'd like to get some rest." She snuggled into the blanket. "I was right, you know." Her eyes drifted shut. "You really are a wonderful man."
Trenton stared soberly down at his slumbering wife, her affirmation echoing in his mind. A wonderful man. The fact that Ariana believed that of him was, in itself, an unexpected wonder.
But the true miracle was that, for the first time in eons, Trenton began to believe it himself.
*****
The woman watched the French shoreline grow more and more indistinct, until it disappeared altogether, leaving nothing behind but miles of ocean and years of agony.
She lifted the hood of her mantle higher over her head, gripping it against her cheeks to block out the sharp winds and icy sprays. In truth, she hardly felt them. Long ago she had learned to block out physical discomfort by retreating into a secret place inside herself. It had become her means of survival.
Slowly, she averted her head, looking, for the first time in six years, toward England. And for the first time in six years, a ripple of anticipation stirred within her, growing quickly into a steady pulse, spreading like a long-craved narcotic through her greedy bloodstream.
"Ma'am? May I get you something?" The straight-backed crewman stood politely beside her, crisply accommodating and, perhaps, a bit curious.
The woman didn't turn. "No. Thank you."
She listened to his steps fade away until she was, once again, alone. No, he could get her nothing. As always, what she wanted, she would have to take herself.
And take it she would.
Chapter Sixteen
"Now I understand why you abruptly lost your appetite at dinner," Trenton commented dryly, lounging against the barn wall. "That beef was supposedly your meal."
Ariana jumped up as if she'd been caught stealing something. "I really wasn’t hungry."
"But Odysseus was?" Trenton strolled past her, over to the crate, where the owl was finishing off the slice of lean meat. "He certainly has improved these past few days-not surprising, given meals like roasted sirloin. Still, I thought you said something about restricting him to plain, lean beef?"
"I scraped off every bit of horse radish and pepper," Ariana defended instantly. "Besides, he's hardly eaten anything all week. The first three days all he did was sleep. Yesterday he ate bits of veal, but this is the first decent meal he's had."
"Meals, " Trenton corrected.
"Pardon me?"
"Meals... not one, but two."
"It's only a slice of meat-"
"His second in the past hour."
Ariana inclined her head. "I don't understand."
With apparent concentration, Trenton studied the wooden beam beside him. "I gave him a portion of my dinner while you were in the kitchen."
"I see." Ariana managed to keep her face straight. "Well then, I suppose he has had enough for now." She cast a loving glance at Odysseus, who stared back at her, unblinking and alert. "In another day or two you'll be fit enough to fly, dear friend. But not if you're laden with pounds of beef."
"Ariana... I need to speak with you."
The seriousness of Trenton's tone startled her. "What is it?"
Trenton held out a note. "This message just arrived from my solicitor. Evidently, my permission, and my presence, are required in London in order to transfer a large sum of money to my bank account here in Wight. I need to complete that transfer so I can begin the renovations I designed for an entire section of farmhouses in Bembridge."
"You're leaving for Broddington?"
He nodded. "Not tonight. But soon." The vulnerable whisper of emotion Ariana had come to recognize flickered in h
is eyes, then vanished. "You don't have to accompany me. I know how happy you've been at Spraystone, and how attached you are to your white owl. I'll take care of my business-"
"I want to go with you," she interrupted. Oblivious to the look of unguarded surprise and pleasure that flashed across her husband's face, she studied Odysseus, assessing his condition. "If you can wait a few more days, I’m certain Odysseus will be eager and ready for his freedom. Then I can join you in Sussex." She hesitated. "Unless you'd rather go alone."
"No, of course not." Trenton cleared his throat roughly. "You're welcome to come."
"Good. Then it's settled." She inclined her head quizzically. "We will be returning to Wight, won't we?" Trenton smiled. "Could I keep you away?"
"Probably not." She strolled out of the barn, wrapping her arms about herself and gazing at the plush green hills and brilliant flowers surrounding them. "I never expected to feel such a sense of belonging as I do at Spraystone."
"I know." Trenton came up behind her. "The Isle has a way of stealing your heart."
"You never did teach me to sail," she reminded him. "You never left your owl’s side."
"Never?" She turned, giving him a look that was an irresistible combination of innocence and seduction.
Desire, relentless and staggering, exploded in Trenton's loins, an inevitability he no longer questioned, only marveled at. Pulling Ariana to him, he threaded his fingers through the thick masses of her auburn hair. "I can’t get enough of you, misty angel."
"Nor I of you," she whispered, reaching up to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. "We really should begin packing."
"Later." He tugged her head back, pressing his lips to the pulse at her throat.
"How much later?" She drew open the sides of his shirt, running her palms up his powerful, hair-roughened chest.
Trenton's cobalt eyes darkened to near black. "I'm glad your owl needs more of your tender ministrations," he growled, sweeping her into his arms and heading toward the house, "because so do I."
"Trenton? Are you sure he's strong enough to fly? Perhaps he-"
"Look at him," Trenton answered gently, gesturing toward the crate. "His eyes are bright and clear. Tonight marks the fourth full day he's eaten well. He’s been restless since morning. He needs his freedom."
"You're right." Ariana raised her chin determinedly. "It would be cruel to keep him captive any longer. Odysseus needs to soar."
"Perhaps he'll follow us to Sussex, as he did to Wight," Trenton suggested with a hint of a smile. "He has, it seems, appointed himself your protector."
"Oh, I have no doubt we'll be seeing him again."
"Additional faith, misty angel?"
"Perpetual faith, husband." She squatted beside the crate. "You're well now, Odysseus," she said solemnly. "Take the freedom that is yours by right." Without hesitation, she lifted the crate and backed away. "Until we meet again, my friend."
Odysseus pivoted his head, ostensibly noting that his confinement had been removed. For an instant, he leveled his penetrating topaz stare at Ariana, blinking once, twice.
Then, with an expressive screech, he spread his wings and sailed out the open barn door into the welcoming dusk.
Ariana snatched her lantern and hastened out after him.
"Where are you going?" Trenton called after her.
"I want to watch him. He's magnificent when he flies." She paused. "Come with me."
"I must be insane," Trenton muttered, following. "I run from cuckoos, I follow white owls; next you'll have me designing structures where your bloody birds can meet for social events."
Ariana laughed. "I rather like that idea. Hurry!" She tugged at his hand, and the two of them sped off across the ground and away from Spraystone. Odysseus's flight was graceful and easy to follow: He was the one stark streak in the darkening sky. Twice he landed on the branches of tall trees, briefly surveyed the land below, then took flight again, evidently testing his wings, reveling in his reacquired freedom and health.
"He's heading out over the Solent," Trenton noted, pausing as they reached the beach beside Brading Harbor.
"Maybe he's preceding us to Broddington!" Ariana ran on ahead, ignoring the wet sand that weighed down her gown and stained her shoes, stopping only when she’d reached the water's edge. Holding her lantern high, she silently bid her friend farewell, peering intently into the night sky until he'd disappeared from view.
"He's truly free," she acknowledged softly. Turning, she smiled at Trenton. "Some things are meant to be, and we have no control over them. This moment was one."
Trenton didn't answer. The incandescent glow of the lantern filtered out around her, turning the radiant copper of her hair to a fiery red. The water lapped at her feet, first catching the edge of her gown, then receding into the darkening waters.
Sudden, unbidden images gripped Trenton, seized his gut, wrenching like a knife. Slashes of memory sprang to life, uncontrolled, unforgettable.
"Some things are meant to be, Trenton... This moment is one of them."
A shimmer of crimson hair, a golden haze of light. "Yes, Vanessa. You're right. This moment was meant to be. But not for the reasons you think."
He could feel the rage pump through his veins, the blind fury recurring as if it were happening right now. "This is not the beginning, you vicious slut... It's the end. I intend to ensure that fact... tonight." "Trenton?"
The lapping of the waves, the hush of the night.
The finality.
"Trenton?" Ariana went to him, her eyes wide with concern. "What is it? You’re white as a sheet."
Trenton stared at her, unseeing, numb.
"You're frightening me... What's the matter?" Ariana clutched at his arms.
A chilling light dawned in Trenton's eyes, and he thrust Ariana away from him. "Not again, Vanessa. Never again." Turning on his heel, he strode back to Spraystone.
The River Arun hadn't changed.
Illuminated by a single lantern, the dark, surging waters rushed through Sussex, emptying fiercely into the Channel, merging them into one.
The woman stared at the deserted bank, visualizing the man she wanted and the woman who was no more: an image that caused enmity to distort her still lovely features into a mask of hatred.
All that would soon be rectified.
"Miss?" The constable's footsteps were muffled by the sand. She hadn't heard him approach.
"Yes?" Swiftly, she pulled up the hood of her mantle, shielding her face from view.
"Are you all right?"
His weathered face was unfamiliar, she discerned at once, relief surging through her. "Of course, Constable. I'm fine... Just enjoying an evening stroll."
He frowned. "I saw the glow of your lantern. A young lady like you shouldn’t be walking alone by the river at night."
She almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of his remark. Youth had long since passed her by, and she, better than anyone, knew that fear arose not from solitude, but from helplessness. "You're right, of course, Constable. It’s time I returned home."
"Do you live nearby?" His shaggy brows knit in concern. "Just beyond those trees," she answered quickly. "Thank you for your interest, Constable. Goodnight."
"Good night, miss."
She felt his eyes upon her as she glided purposefully toward the area she’d designated as home. In the future, she'd have to be more careful.
The wind picked up, cool against her flushed cheeks. She was half tempted to lower her hood and let the air rush through her hair, making her feel alive again.
But the risk was too great.
Her fingers tightened about the mantle, holding it firmly over her head.
One stubborn strand broke free, whipping defiantly about her face.
Only the moon witnessed its crimson glow.
"We have to discuss it."
Ariana's face was pale, her eyes red from a long, sleepless night. How many times had she confronted Trenton, pleaded with him to talk to her? But to no avail.
The yacht sails whipped in the stiff breeze, the Isle of Wight fading as they neared the English shore.
"Trenton... please."
He hadn't spoken since their encounter on the beach, nor had he moved since their ship had left Wight this morning. He stood at the yacht's railing, his gaze fixed on some distant point.
Ariana took a deep breath, attempting a more direct approach. "Did I resemble Vanessa more than usual last night, or was she just on your mind?"
Slowly, Trenton turned. "You don't resemble Vanessa... not in any way."
Grateful that her husband was finally responding, Ariana rose, going to stand beside him. "Then why did you call me by her name?"
"I can't explain it. For a split second, I saw her."
"Why? Was it something I did? Said?"
"Stop it, Ariana." He averted his head, staring broodingly over the Solent. "I'm not ready to discuss this... I don't even understand it." His mouth thinned into a grim line. "I find myself in the untenable position of actually wondering what's real and what's fabricated."
"Were you in love with my sister?" Ariana blurted out the unrelated question without thinking. Astonished by her own brazenness, she wished she could retract her words. In this case, it wasn't Trenton's anger she feared, but his honesty.
"No." His response was instant and absolute. "Not then. Not ever." Ariana's relief was so acute it hurt. "I'm glad," she whispered. She leaned
against the railing, gazing out over the water. "I wonder where Odysseus is by now."
Trenton's head snapped around, amazement registering in his eyes. "That's it? You're not worried about my possible insanity or my propensity to violence? You only want to know my feelings for Vanessa?"
"For the time being, yes. I know you didn't kill her. Now I know you didn't love her. The rest you'll tell me when you're ready. The only reason I hope it will be soon is that it hurts me to see you suffer so."
A muscle worked convulsively in Trenton's jaw, and he drew Ariana roughly into his arms. "You humble me."
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