Echoes in the Mist Read online

  “Damn it, Ariana,” he growled, his eyes darkening to nearly black. “I’m not a saint.” He was already moving, unable to hold back any longer.

  “That feels so good,” she whispered, awed and totally oblivious to Trenton’s warning.

  With a husky laugh, he bent his head, covering her mouth with his, gliding his hands beneath her silky bottom to lift her into his thrusts. “Ah, misty angel, my beautiful, innocent seductress,” he murmured, drawing back only to press deep within her once more. “You burn me down to my soul.” He bit lightly at her lower lip. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

  “You. I want you, Trenton.” The frantic feeling had returned, her body wild for release.

  He stared down at her for an endless moment, taking in her rosy cheeks and flushed breasts, her shallow breathing, the helpless arching of her body beneath his. A look of raw, naked emotion crossed his face just before he took her mouth purposefully, ready to give her what she so desperately craved.

  Penetrating her mouth with his tongue, Trenton drew Ariana’s hips up to meet the powerful surge of his. Again and again he repeated the dual motion, possessing her so totally she couldn’t breathe, nor did she want to.

  The tidal wave of sensation roared to life inside her once more, drowning her in its wake, and Ariana struggled recklessly for that elusive relief that hovered just out of her reach.

  “Don’t fight, love,” Trenton panted into her open mouth. “Let me take you there. Trust me.”

  Ariana stopped struggling at once.

  She felt Trenton’s hands tighten on her hips, his thrusts become deeper, more powerful, faster. Ariana’s nails scored his back, her cries mounted with each plunging thrust. Fervently, her body tightened around his, beneath his. And all the while he breathed hot, explicit instructions in her ear, guided her from one shimmering plateau to another, until they teetered on the highest precipice, plummeted over its magnificent edge.

  The tidal wave burst, sending waves and waves of sheer, dazzling euphoria exploding inside her, cresting and falling with each spasm of her body. She cried out his name, heard his exultant shout of release, and then there was only the wondrous feeling of being crushed in his arms, the very essence of him pouring into her body, melding her climax with his own.

  And at last there was peace.

  CHAPTER

  8

  TIMELESS, LANGUOROUS MINUTES ELAPSED.

  Ariana sank into the mattress, blanketed beneath Trenton’s solid weight, dimly aware that his sweat-drenched body was still shuddering with powerful aftershocks. Reality held at bay, she drifted, her limbs weak as water, her mind floating on clouds of contentment. So this was the glorious aftermath of passion, this feeling of incomparable oneness. She closed her eyes. Please, she prayed silently, never let it end.

  Long moments later, Trenton raised his head, gazing wearily down at his wife through sober, sated eyes.

  Feeling his scrutiny, Ariana forced her lids to open, and what she saw on Trenton’s face made her heart leap with happiness. His expression was unguarded, devoid of its customary anger and arrogance, filled with awe … and a touch of remorse.

  Instinctively, Ariana reached up, erasing the lines of concern from his forehead with gentle strokes of her fingertips, gliding her hand through the damp, silky texture of his hair.

  Trenton bent to kiss her soft, bruised lips. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, giving him a shy smile. “Yes. A bit crushed, but fine.”

  Instantly he eased off her, frowning when she flinched at his withdrawal. “You’re in pain.”

  “No,” she quickly denied, unwilling to relinquish this wonderful new intimacy that flowed between them. Never having imagined such closeness existed, she longed to preserve the wondrous bond they had just forged with their bodies. “I’m not in pain. Just discomfort.”

  She wanted to sob out a protest when Trenton rolled to his feet and left her, crossing the room to fill the china basin with cool water. Alone in the massive bed, bereft and unsure, Ariana felt abandoned, insignificant and utterly alone. For the briefest of instants, she seriously considered begging him to come back and hold her, then dismissed the notion as nonsensical. Trenton would think she had lost her mind.

  Perhaps she had.

  Raising her head, Ariana studied him candidly. He was bronzed, magnificent and as totally oblivious to his own nakedness as he was to the loneliness settling heavily on her heart. She sat up straighter, the sheet falling to her waist, making her abruptly aware of her own nudity.

  Hastily, she covered herself, wondering what Trenton expected of her now. She could hardly excuse herself and leave, as this was her bedroom. Should she rise and don her nightgown? Act nonchalant and pretend nothing was changed? Impossible.

  She watched him pour water on a clean cloth, chewing her lip nervously and wishing she had thought to ask Theresa questions about what happened afterward. Would he speak of what had transpired between them and expect her to do the same? Would he sleep in her bed or retire to his own room now that their marriage had been consummated?

  With total candor, Ariana admitted to herself that she longed to have him spend the night beside her. Was that improper? Her lips twitched at the thought. Everything she’d felt and done tonight had been improper. Improper and absolutely wonderful.

  Hesitantly, she searched for the right words to say, words that would convince him to stay without sounding foolish and pathetic. Perhaps he read her thoughts, for, to her joyous surprise, he turned and walked back, pausing beside the bed with the cloth in his hand.

  Seeing her uncertain expression, Trenton smiled. “Let me ease this ache as well.” He sat beside her and peeled away the sheet, gently sliding her thighs apart to cleanse her.

  Ariana tensed, instinctively closing her legs and catching his arm. “What are you doing?”

  “I told you. I’m alleviating your soreness.” He smoothed the rumpled tendrils from her cheeks, giving her a look of pure male satisfaction. “Your modesty is a bit belated, wouldn’t you say?” He brought her fingers to his lips, unable to disguise the husky possessiveness in his voice. “Considering that I’ve just caressed and tasted every inch of you?”

  Ariana blushed scarlet and lowered her eyes.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he murmured solemnly. “Let me.”

  Ariana felt herself responding to Trenton’s sensual command with the same innate trust he always seemed to elicit from her. Silently, she relaxed her legs, watching him wash the insides of her thighs ever so gently with the soothing cloth. Her eyes widened at the sight of blood.

  “I’ll never have to hurt you again,” he promised quietly, answering her unspoken question.

  She nodded, following the motions of his hands as they came to rest at the junction of her thighs. She sighed with pleasure at the exquisite relief of the cool compress on her raw, sensitive flesh … relief followed by a tingle of pleasure.

  “Feel good?”

  She started. How could he know?

  “Yes.” He answered for her, his voice deep, rich.

  “Yes,” she breathed, blushing anew as she remembered what he had been doing when he had last asked that question of her.

  Trenton chuckled, stroking softly. “Such a wonderful embodiment of contradictions, misty angel. So passionate, so very shy.”

  “As are you.”

  His dark brows rose in amusement. “Passionate? Or shy?”

  “Neither. I mean … well, yes, but what I meant was an embodiment of contradictions.”

  He continued the sensuous circling of the cloth. “To the contrary, my breathtaking bride, at this moment I am singularly driven in my intent.”

  “I’m not sure I understand your intent,” she whispered, hot pleasure radiating out from his caressing hand.

  He stared down at her, his eyes hooded, dark with reawakened passion. Slowly, he tossed the cloth aside, replacing it with his fingers.

  Ariana shivered. “Trenton …” The rekindled se
nsations escalated rapidly inside her, obliterating whatever inhibitions she might have had. Urgently, she reached for her husband, needing to share the exhilaration.

  Trenton’s gaze followed the path of her slender fingers as they feathered across his shoulders, the muscles of his arms. His features tightened, and a hard tremor shook his body.

  “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, catching her hand and guiding it to his chest. Slowly, he drew her palm down his torso, gliding her fingers through the pelt of dark hair, along his rib cage, rubbing her palm over his nipples, groaning as they tightened instantly at her touch. “Feel my heartbeat,” he rasped, placing her hand flat over the drumming in his chest. “Feel what you do to me.”

  Ariana was lost in the wonder of his body. The rough textures, the powerful muscles … so this was what made a man different from a woman. Not so different, she amended, feeling his nipples stiffen against her hand.

  Warming to her sensual explorations, Ariana squirmed free and came to her knees, her other hand joining its mate. She felt the thundering of Trenton’s heart, heard his breath expel in a hiss, just before he seized her hand again and dragged it down to his painfully rigid erection.

  “Touch me,” he commanded. His grip tightened at her hesitation. “Ariana … I need to feel your hands on me.”

  Ariana did as he asked, gliding her fingers over his smooth, throbbing shaft, learning his size, his incredible heat. His chest heaved with the exertion of restraint, his eyes burned cobalt blue. But he made no attempt to move, submitting totally to her innocent exploration.

  Ariana stroked her fingers lightly along his length, gliding up to the satin tip. She looked down in stunned wonder when her fingers grew damp, repeating the caress as if to verify his reaction.

  “I … can’t… hold … back …” he got out through clenched teeth. “Your hands …” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “I don’t want you to hold back,” she answered, transfixed by the miracle of life he contained. “I didn’t.”

  That did it.

  With a growl of severed control, Trenton caught her in his arms and toppled them both to the bed, pressing her thighs apart even as he shook his head in denial. “It’s … too … soon. Your body …”

  “Wants yours,” she confessed breathlessly.

  “You’re sore …” He crowded slowly into her, dragging air into his lungs with great, shaky gulps.

  “Yes,” she agreed, wincing a bit, yet opening herself fully, eagerly, for his possession. “But I don’t care.”

  “God …” he choked out, burying himself inside her hot, tight wetness.

  Ariana wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting her legs to hug his flanks as he had taught her. There was some pain, yes, but it was eclipsed by an almost unbearable surge of passion that seized her, obliterated all else from her mind.

  “Tell me if I hurt you,” Trenton grated, easing himself from her velvet heat, only to push deeper, farther inside her. Part apology, part command, his words swirled through her mind, impalpably lulling as a soft summer breeze. Entrenched in sensation, Ariana barely managed to nod, silently giving Trenton his answer.

  This time was stunningly brief, unchecked and unimaginable. Trenton waited only until he felt his wife dissolve around him in rhythmic spasms of completion, her cries echoing inside his head, before he lunged forward, pouring himself into her in a great pulsing release.

  Still trembling with reaction, Ariana knew the moment Trenton’s anger returned, a viable entity that crept between their tightly joined bodies. His hands balled into fists, digging into the damp sheets, and he swallowed audibly, fighting some inner demon, struggling to bring himself under control. In one taut, fluid motion, he rolled away from her, lying rigidly on the far side of the bed.

  The narrow space dividing their bodies was as vast as an unbridgeable chasm. Ariana closed her eyes, tears burning behind them. This was not what she’d visualized for the aftermath of their passion. This was … beyond bearing.

  She turned onto her side, her back to her husband, seized by a bleakness that was worse than any she’d endured in the past. Until today she’d been a child: alone, perhaps, and insignificant. But tonight she’d shared herself wholly with this stormy, enigmatic man who was now her husband, taken him into her bed and her body.

  And, in the process, into her heart.

  Had it meant nothing to him? Could he so easily relinquish that miraculous sense of completion, replace it with the frigid distance that now loomed between them?

  Ariana felt the bed give as Trenton swung his legs to the floor, preparing to arise.

  “Trenton?” Her voice was tentative, her eyes filled with bewildered questions.

  Trenton paused, his breathing uneven, his hair and forehead slick with perspiration. He stared down at her, his mouth set in grim lines. “What?”

  “You’re angry. Why?”

  His expression softened at the uncluttered candor of the question, the baffled distress it contained. “I’m not angry, misty angel. At least not at you. Perhaps at myself.” Almost against his will, his self-deprecating gaze swept her fragile nakedness. “I should never have allowed this to happen. I lost control.”

  Ariana knew he referred to far more than their physical union. For some reason, he was angry at himself for the intensity of his own response. And she suspected that his reason involved Vanessa.

  An icy chill blanketed her heart. “You have no reason to be angry at yourself,” she countered, her tone wooden. Slowly, she raised up on one elbow. “You didn’t hurt me. … Nor did you force me.”

  Trenton made a move toward her, then rapidly checked himself. Rigidly, he turned away and reached for his robe.

  “Don’t.” The word was out before Ariana could call it back.

  His head jerked around. “Pardon me?”

  The flush on Ariana’s cheeks deepened, but she took the plunge nonetheless. “Please don’t leave.”

  “It’s late, Ariana. I’m going to my room so you can sleep.”

  “I know where you’re going.” She fought the urge to retreat. With forced bravado, she raised her chin a notch. “And I’m asking you to stay.”

  “Stay.” He repeated the word slowly, as if it were foreign to him.

  “Yes, stay.” She drew a sharp breath. “With me.”

  Trenton’s jaw clenched, and for a moment she thought he meant to relent. He seemed to battle some fierce inner conflict, one that had no answer.

  For a long while he said nothing, only stared at her, taking in her innocent sensuality and honest allure. Suddenly he came to his feet. “No.” He shook his head emphatically, refusing not only Ariana’s request, but all that went with it. Snatching up his robe, he shrugged into it, keeping his gaze averted. “Good night, Ariana.”

  The door closed behind him.

  Ariana stared into the darkness, aching as much for Trenton’s sake as she did for her own. Filled with unanswered questions and unexpected emotion, and too drained to cope with either, Ariana wrapped herself in the blankets and, with a weary sigh, surrendered to the relentless pull of slumber.

  “Are you awake, my lady?”

  Theresa’s voice, followed by the sound of running water, coaxed Ariana out of a fitful doze. Blinking, she sat up, momentarily disoriented. One glance at the tangled sheets was enough to remind her where she was.

  Nearly bolting from the bed, she collided with Theresa in the center of the room.

  “Good, you’re awake,” Theresa said brightly, adjusting her wilting bun and looking not the least bit ruffled over her mistress’s stark, disheveled nudity. She gestured toward a small door. “I’ve run your bath.”

  Ariana blushed, glancing discreetly about, wondering where, amid the heap of bedcovers, her nightgown was buried.

  “Your gown was soiled. I’ve taken it to be laundered.” On the heels of answering Ariana’s unspoken question, Theresa paused. “Are you in discomfort, my lady?”

  Ariana averted her eyes. “A b
it.” She dragged her gaze back to Theresa’s. “That is normal, isn’t it?” she asked anxiously.

  “Normal and unavoidable. Hence the bath I’ve run.” She took Ariana’s hand. “Come. You’ll feel refreshed and renewed in no time.”

  The luxurious bathroom was grander, more elegant, than any Ariana had ever seen, its marble tub polished and gleaming with alabaster hues identical to those lining the room’s exquisitely paneled walls. Sinking gratefully into the scented water, Ariana had to admit that Theresa was right: The bath did indeed feel glorious. She closed her eyes and let the hot water work its magic, seeping into her throbbing muscles and soothing her in places that had never before ached.

  Her mind drifted to last night … and the cause of her discomfort.

  Trenton.

  Just thinking about him made her body quicken and her heart skip a beat. Her wedding night had been a turning point in her life, an introduction to physical pleasure and an awakening to her own dormant passion. She was still awed by the power of her husband’s lovemaking, the oneness of their union.

  And yet, despite the intimacy they’d shared, Ariana was no closer to understanding Trenton than she’d been yesterday … no nearer to discovering the true cause of his anger.

  Soaping her hair, she again wondered how she could feel so totally safe with a man who harbored a rage that erupted like lightning, a man with a secret that threatened to destroy all in its path. Recalling Trenton’s tenderness, his anguished expression when he’d breached her maidenhead, his gentle ministrations, his tortured ambivalence when he’d left her bed … recalling all that, Ariana had her answer. She might not understand her husband, but, deep inside her, she knew him. Better, perhaps, than he knew himself.

  What she didn’t know was what he wanted of her. Not in bed, but in fact. Why had he married her? What had happened between him and Vanessa all those years ago? Did he hope to assuage the agony of losing Vanessa by wedding her sister?