Echoes in the Mist (Kingsleys in Love 1)

Ariana sagged weakly against the wall, joy and gratitude

converging into a fathomless sense of euphoria. Trenton knew. He knew that she never meant to leave him. He knew that something at Winsham was amiss. He knew that she loved him—and he loved her in return. And he was here, ready to take her home.

Abruptly, Ariana straightened, her elation temporarily stilled. What he didn’t know was that Vanessa was alive. And Lord only knew what would happen when he found out.

With swift resolve, Ariana went to the door, gingerly testing the handle. The fates were with her: Vanessa hadn’t locked it when she’d left.

A minute later, Ariana was in the hallway, carefully assuring herself that it was deserted. It was.

She waited not a moment longer, sprinting through the servants’ quarters and into the main wing of the house. Winsham’s entranceway was in view and she planned to reach it.

Three things happened at once.

Deafening pounding erupted at the front door, Coolidge emerged from the drawing room, and Baxter collided with Ariana outside the library.

“What the—where are you racing to, sprite?” Baxter caught hold of her arm.

“Let me go, Baxter.” She struggled valiantly to free herself. “For God’s sake, show me that I wasn’t completely wrong about you. Let me go.”

Glancing curiously at the ruckus behind him, Coolidge opened the front door.

Trenton exploded into the house.

“Take your despicable hands off my wife, Caldwell!” Trenton was beside Ariana in a dozen strides.

Baxter looked totally bewildered, crumpling like a small, pathetic child watching his favorite toy being smashed to pieces. “Kingsley?” he tried inanely. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you get Ariana’s letter?”

“Baxter … don’t,” Ariana said quietly. “In the name of heaven, let the lies be over.” She extricated herself from his now-lax grip and went directly into her husband’s embrace. “Trenton,” she whispered, burying her face against his shirt, weak with the relief of being where she belonged.

“Are you all right?” Trenton demanded gruffly, his arms tightening reflexively around her.

“Yes.” She raised her face to his and smiled. “Now I am.”

“Good.” Trenton looked past her to Baxter’s abashed expression. “Then I’ll merely beat your brother senseless instead of killing him, as I’d originally planned.”

“Trenton … don’t.” Ariana pressed her palms against his chest. “Baxter didn’t hurt me. The blame is not entirely his. In many ways, he’s as much a victim as we are. Please, listen to me.”

Instinctively, Trenton made a move toward Baxter. “You greedy, immoral bastard … you kidnapped your own sister just to get your hands on my money?”

“Trenton!” Ariana made a final attempt. “Before you do something you’ll regret, I must tell you—”

“I’ll speak for myself, baby sister.”

Hearing the hated, never-forgotten voice, Trenton reacted violently, his fingers digging into the soft skin of Ariana’s arms. Blindly, he turned his head toward the sound, his heart thundering wildly in Ariana’s ear. For a long moment he just stared, confronted with the ghost that had haunted him not only these past weeks, but for six long years. At last he spoke, his voice a strangled hiss. “Vanessa.”

“A most attractive corpse, wouldn’t you say?” Vanessa smoothed her gown and approached him, bitterness glittering in her emerald eyes. “No loving reception, darling? I would think you’d be thrilled! After all … I’m not dead, and you’re not crazy. Who could ask for anything more?”

“Trenton …” Ariana reached up to touch her husband’s taut jaw. “You’re not seeing things. Vanessa really is alive. She’s the one who’s been—”

Brusquely, Trenton shoved Ariana behind him, as if to protect her from some heinous creature whose evil she underestimated. He towered over Vanessa, assessing every breathing inch of her, abhorrence, shock, and rage emanating from his powerful form. “You are alive,” he pronounced at last. Fists clenched at his sides, he battled the urge to choke her.

“Indeed I am.”

“Why?” he demanded. ‘

“Which question am I answering: Why did I feign my own death, why did I implicate you, or why did I return to England? You’ll have to be more specific, Trenton.”

“All of it!” He raised his hand as if to strike her, then drove his fingers forcefully through his hair. “All of it, damn you!”