Echoes in the Mist (Kingsleys in Love 1)

“He didn’t mean to. It’s only that—”

“And as for Vanessa …” The words poured out of Trenton’s mouth on their own accord. “Yes, your sister was a dazzling, blindingly beautiful woman, but that’s where it ended. Your beauty is far more vivid, richer. Don’t you see yourself?” He shook his head in wonder. “You really don’t, do you? You don’t see how incredibly beautiful you are, how intelligent, how special? Damn it, Ariana, there is nothing average about you!”

“Trenton, don’t.” Ariana abruptly rose, turning her back to him. “Don’t lie to me. I can learn to endure your secrets, but I cannot bear your lies. I know just who I am, and that is neither Baxter nor Vanessa. I’m not practical enough to be considered overly intelligent. … My head is always in the clouds. And although I’m hardly unpleasant to look at, I will never approach my sister in beauty. So let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Trenton came to his feet, then turned Ariana to face him and cupped her chin. “Your head is in the clouds, misty angel. You’re such a warm-hearted, oblivious little fool.” He stared at her, an odd, faraway light dawning in his eyes. “Someday you’ll realize the truth. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to tell you.”

Ariana caught his wrist, slowly shaking her head. “No.” She was stunned to hear herself refuse. “I don’t want to hear the truth … at least not this part of it. I don’t think I can bear hearing about your feelings for Vanessa. I suppose I’m a coward, but I can’t help it. Forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” He laughed harshly. “I assure you, misty angel, there’s nothing to forgive. I only hope that one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Soberly, she stared up at him. “Let’s not discuss my life … or forgiveness … any more. I want to learn about you … not the Trenton of these past six years, but the Trenton who lived before.”

He was silent, his expression guarded. “There isn’t much I can add,” he answered at last. “I’ve already told you about my schooling, my sketching. …”

“Did you and Dustin quarrel a lot?”

“I suppose we did on occasion.” The abrupt change in subject mystified him. “Why?”

“Did you share confidences? Protect each other from outsiders? Stand up for each other with your parents?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” Trenton laughed. “Why does my relationship with Dustin interest you so?”

Ariana’s eyes glowed as she pictured the two boys she’d seen in the photographs. “I told you, I’ve never had a true sibling. Vanessa and Baxter were more like parents to me, especially since my real parents died when I was a child.”

“Do you remember your father and mother?” Idly, Trenton rumpled her auburn tresses, watching the sunlight catch the bright strands and ignite them into copper fire.

“A bit. Mostly what I remember are our Christmases.”

“Why your Christmases?”

“Because they were magic. When Mama and Papa were alive, Christmas at Winsham was a fairy tale come true. I remember everything: decorating the tree, hanging the mistletoe from the ceiling while I sat on Papa’s shoulders, sneaking batter from the cookies Mama baked. Most of all, I remember that wondrous feeling: excitement, anticipation, and joy all rolled into one, an emotion so vast it made you want to hug yourself even while it caused butterflies to form in your stomach that kept you awake all night. But morning would finally come and all of us would topple down the stairs to the sitting room, gathered around the fireplace where we belonged … a real family. …” Startled, Ariana realized she was crying. “I’m sorry,” she said shakily, wiping her cheeks. “We’re supposed to be talking about you. I didn’t mean to go on like that, nor did I expect to become so emotional. It’s just that I haven’t had Christmas since …”

“Don’t explain.” Trenton cut her off hoarsely, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Don’t even try.”

Slowly, Ariana’s arms slid around him as she gratefully accepted the comfort she had long craved but never received. “Maybe we could spend this Christmas at Spraystone,” she whispered hopefully against his chest. “We could gather evergreen sprigs and perhaps some chrysanthemums and camellias and black ivy berries. Then, if it snows, we could watch the world turn white, and the wrens would sing and the sparrows—”

“Yes,” Trenton agreed huskily, his arms tightening around her. “We can do all that, misty angel. I promise.”

She raised her head. “Broddington holds nothing for you, does it?”

“To the contrary, Ariana, it’s hold is powerful … and terribly painful.”

“Because you lost your father there?” Seeing Trenton’s expression, she knew instantly he intended to shut her out. With a gentle, beseeching look, she reached up to touch his cheek. “Please tell me. I’ll do my best to understand.”

Trenton’s lips twisted bitterly. “It was a long time ago, Ariana. Too much has happened that can never be undone.”

“Dustin told me that your father’s death was sudden, despite his depleted health. Is that true?”

Silence.

“Trenton?”

“Yes, dammit, it’s true!” He jerked away, turning his back to the reminders her questions brought.

“He died just after Vanessa,” Ariana persisted. “Are the two events related?” She saw her husband’s shoulders stiffen and softly added, “I’ve told you I don’t believe you killed Vanessa. Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because you wouldn’t believe what I’d tell you, Ariana. Leave it alone.”