Trenton correctly interpreted his wife’s apprehensive expression, and the realization that she so profoundly feared him splintered the last of his control. Striding forward, he grabbed her elbow, jerking her roughly against him. “You’re my wife, Ariana! Loathe it or not, you belong to me. And no evils of the past can alter that.”
The color drained from Ariana’s cheeks and she voiced a token protest, shaking her head haltingly from side to side. With a muffled curse, Trenton brought his mouth down on hers, bruising her lips with the violence of his kiss. “Damn her to hell,” he muttered, ravaging Ariana’s mouth with his own. “Damn each and every bloody Caldwell to hell.”
He crushed Ariana to his chest, forcing her to accept his brand of total possession. His tongue thoroughly plundered her mouth, his arms held her captive with a grip of iron. Fiercely, he used his brutal kiss to proclaim her as his until at last, unable to conquer the assault, Ariana went limp and unresisting in his arms.
Feeling his wife’s struggles cease, Trenton tore his mouth away, dragging air into his lungs, desperately trying to still the red haze of fury that had accosted him. Panting, he stared down into Ariana’s ashen face, scrutinizing her to see if her terror of him remained.
Tears glistened in her eyes, on her cheeks. “Are you finished?” she asked quietly. “Or do you plan to hurt me too?”
Abruptly, he shoved her away from him. “Get out of here,” he ordered, veering away. He crossed the room, slamming his fists against a marble pillar. “Just get out of my sight—now!”
Ariana needed no further invitation. Gathering her skirts, she raced from the conservatory, never looking back.
Trenton listened to the sound of his wife’s heels echoing down the hall until they faded and finally disappeared altogether. Slowly, he averted his head, staring at the empty doorway, the tormented fires of hell raging in his soul. It had been years since he’d lost control like that: striking out at a woman without thought or sanity. The last time had been six years ago—and the consequences had been fatal.
But his motivation this time was drastically different.
And that difference sent warning bells clanging through every nerve cell in his body.
Trenton raked his fingers through his hair, the sweetness of his wife’s reluctant mouth still lingering on his tongue, her anguished tears still etched in his mind. He wanted to choke Baxter Caldwell with his bare hands for showing Ariana that letter.
And the letter was only the beginning: merely one layer of the monstrous past for Caldwell to peel away.
“Why am I not surprised to find you here?” Dustin teased, leaning against the stable wall.
Ariana looked up from where she sat, amid a tall pile of hay on the stall floor. Tenderly, she stroked the soft head of a small yellow chick that sat contentedly cradled in her hands. “Were you looking for me?”
Dustin frowned, taking in Ariana’s tear-streaked face and wide, haunted eyes. “What’s happened, sweetheart?”
She lowered her head. “Nothing I want to discuss.”
Dustin crossed the stall and lowered himself beside her, lifting her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Is it Trent?”
Ariana gave a hollow laugh. “Isn’t it always?”
“No, not always,” he countered softly. “There are times when he makes you look positively radiant.”
Pink-cheeked, she turned away. “That’s because I’m a romantic fool.”
“Romantic yes. A fool, never.”
“You’re wrong, Dustin. I’m the very worst of fools. In letting my instincts guide me, I’m afraid I’ve allowed myself to fall victim to a heinous lie.”
Dustin was silent for a moment, sifting a handful of hay through his fingers. “Trenton’s feelings are no lie, Ariana. He cares for you … a great deal. Probably more than he knows, definitely more than he cares to admit.”
“To the contrary, Dustin, the only feeling your brother has for me is contempt. He loathes me for being a Caldwell, and married me out of some obsessive need for vengeance.” She buried her face in the chick’s downy feathers. “Although why in heaven’s name he should seek retribution, when it was my sister who died, is beyond me.”
Dustin’s jaw set. “You’ve been at Winsham?”
Ariana’s head came up, her brows arched in surprise at Dustin’s icy tone. “Yes … today, as a matter of fact.”
“Then that explains whatever stormy encounter you had with Trent.”
“Why?” she asked incredulously. “Surely Trenton didn’t expect me to break off all ties with my brother simply because I married a man who despises him. Why would my visit to Winsham enrage him so?”
Uneasily, Dustin smoothed his mustache, measuring his reply. “Trent has his reasons,” he said at last.
“What are they?”