Echoes in the Mist (Kingsleys in Love 1)

“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 he

r. 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 Caldwells 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?”