Ariana’s eyes flew open and she shook her head in an effort to clear it. Still somewhat dazed, she gazed about, taking in her new surroundings. The yacht was gracefully gliding toward a dock, away from which led a broad street, dotted with people and an occasional traveling coach, and lined with buildings of various sizes and stature. Off to the west, the shore curved gracefully, thick with trees at times, divided here and there by an isolated creek or cove, culminating in the regal walls of Osborne House.
To the east, the land pitched more sharply, ascending to a commanding cluster of Elizabethan turrets, followed by dramatic cliffs and green banks that stretched endlessly as far as the eye could see.
“Spraystone is beyond those cliffs,” Trenton informed Ariana, helping her disembark. His hands lingered on her waist. “Are you all right?”
Ariana felt Trenton’s fingers scorch her skin, searing through the layers of her gown and petticoats. “Yes,” she managed, forcing herself to focus on the impressive buildings housed within the manicured gardens and trees that defined the hillside of Ryde. “But I had no idea Ryde was so … big,” she finished lamely.
Trenton stroked his thumbs idly over her waist. “Union Street has schools, a post office, two banks, and a wonderful theatre,” he told her in a husky voice. “Sections of the Isle are quite sophisticated, although the pace is slower, the air fresher, more vibrant. Other sections are very rural, with isolated estates that have nothing surrounding them for miles and miles.” He paused. “Estates like Spraystone.”
“I see.” For the life of her, Ariana could think of nothing else to say. The lush forbiddance of her husband’s description melded with the heady scent of honeysuckle … and the devastating pull of Trenton’s presence. Wight’s enchantment wrapped itself around her, lured her, and Ariana surrendered, drowning in the Isle’s splendor and her own dizzy anticipation.
The ferry ride to Bembridge was brief, as silent as the trip from the mainland, but fraught with a different kind of tension. By the time the towering Chalk Cliffs appeared, just beyond the walls of a charming, tucked-away estate, Ariana wanted to scream with the unfamiliar frustration building inside her.
“We’ll travel the final part of our journey by foot,” Trenton murmured, taking Ariana’s elbow.
Even that casual contact made her tense. She nodded, following Trenton from the ferry and through the deserted acres of greenery for what seemed to be hours.
“We’re home,” he said at last, pointing.
Ariana’s head came up and she searched the cloak of trees until she found what she quickly recognized as the graceful manor she’d spotted earlier from the ferry.
“Well?” she heard Trenton ask, his tone drawn as tight as a bowstring.
“It’s lovely.” She could barely speak past the pounding in her chest.
“The barn is off to the side. Would you like to visit there first?”
Ariana stopped dead in her tracks, turning to look up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since they’d arrived. “Later,” she whispered, pretense and pride cast aside.
Trenton stared down at her, his eyes darkening to near black. “Damn,” he swore softly, capturing her shoulders and dragging her to him. He tangled his fingers in her hair, growling her name in a primitive sound of undeniable need, taking her mouth with a ferocity that echoed the wildness she felt pounding in her head.
Swinging Ariana into his arms, Trenton took the remaining distance to the house in broad, purposeful strides. He slammed the door behind him, mounted the steps two at a time, and carried her into the bedroom, dropping with her to the bed. They kissed, hungry, open-mouthed, again and again, simultaneously tugging off their clothes, as desperate to be one as if months, rather than days, had passed since they’d been together. When Trenton rose to shed his trousers, Ariana reached for him, uninhibited and urgent.
“My naked goddess,” he rasped, coming down over her. “If I don’t have you I’ll die.”
“Love me,” she demanded, opening herself to him. “Please, Trenton, I need …” Her plea ended in a moan of pleasure as his first fiery thrust stroked deep within her.
“Is this what you need?” he asked huskily, rolling over to seat her astride him, deepening his presence in her body until he had buried himself to the hilt in her warm wetness. “Is it, misty angel? Because it’s what I need … more than I need my next breath.” He withdrew, plunged deeper still. “Tell me, Ariana … I know you fear me, doubt me. But do you need me?”
Unable to speak, Ariana only nodded, the escalating pleasure too acute to bear. With a helpless whimper, she answered with her body, tightening her legs about Trenton’s flanks and beginning the rhythmic, deliberate undulations of her hips he had taught her.
Trenton threw back his head and groaned, valiantly battling the blazing climax that ignited his loins the moment he felt Ariana’s softness close around him. Determinedly, he fought, intent that this time, unlike the last, his wife would peak in his arms, be completely fulfilled long before he exploded inside her.
It was a war not destined to be won.
With a growl of unwilling capitulation, Trenton rolled Ariana to her back, pouring himself into her in a bottomless, wrenching release, utterly astonished by his total loss of control.
Equally astonished by his wife’s.
Ariana responded instantly, burying her face in Trenton’s damp shoulder and crying out his name, dissolving into shivering spasms that convulsed tightly around him, drawing him into her very core. Then, with a great, gulping sigh, she relaxed, lying quietly beneath him as the final tremors jolted his powerful frame.
“God, what you do to me …” Trenton got out between clenched teeth, blanketing her body with the weight of his.
“You do the same to me,” Ariana murmured, her voice shy.
Trenton inhaled sharply, raising up on his elbows and regarding her soberly, an odd expression on his face. “Strange, isn’t it? For your mind and body to be at war?”
“My heart and body are in agreement,” Ariana whispered, candor glowing in her eyes. “Only my mind is uncertain.”