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Then where the hell had it come from?
The wind whistled through the trees, and Trenton lifted his head slowly, with the sudden, eerie feeling he was not alone.
From fifty feet away, a woman beckoned him. She wore a tight-fitting lime silk gown with a low, square-cut bodice reminiscent of the 1860s. Her hair, a lush mane of flaming red, billowed out around her, catching the moonlight and reflecting it back.
Suddenly she extended both arms in his direction and uttered a single word. “Trenton …”
“No!” Trenton shook his head violently, staggering to his feet, unsure whether he was running toward the apparition or away.
It didn’t matter.
For when he looked again, she was gone.
CHAPTER
20
TRENTON WASN’T SURE HOW many hours he blindly walked the beach; but the sky’s harsh cloak of black was softening to a muted gray, signifying the oncoming dawn, when he found his way back to Broddington.
He had traversed shock and denial and moved into self-censure by this time, contemplating the possibility that he was indeed losing his mind.
“Trenton?” Ariana appeared at the foot of the stairs, wearing only a nightgown and robe, her auburn hair tumbling about her shoulders. “Are you all right?” She followed him into the drawing room, where he proceeded to pour himself a healthy portion of brandy. “Trenton!” She seized his arm, frightened by his disoriented, disheveled state. “What’s happened?”
Trenton stared blankly at her over the rim of his brandy glass. “Hello, misty angel. I’ve returned from hell only to find it again.”
Ariana snatched the glass from him and slammed it onto the table. “I’ve been worried sick about you—you’ve been gone all night! And while I was agonizing, you were out drinking, of all things?”
“I assure you, I am completely sober. That brandy you just wrenched from me is the first drink I’ve had. However,” and he picked up the bottle with a hand that shook violently, “I intend to finish every last drop until I am so soused I can hardly move, let alone think.”
“Why? Where did you go? What happened to reduce you to such a state?”
“Vanessa happened.” He lifted the brandy bottle to his lips, taking a long swallow.
“Vanessa? Oh, Trenton, is this about that book again? I thought I’d helped you understand—”
“It’s not about the book.” He dragged his hand across his forehead. “At least not the book alone.” He stared broodingly at the bottle he held, emotions racing across his face. “Dammit!” he exploded suddenly, hurling the brandy bottle against the marble column with all his might, sending a spray of shattered glass and brandy throughout the room.
“Dear Lord …” Ariana was truly frightened. “What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”
Trenton’s head snapped around. “Because I, apparently, am insane. Did you know that, misty angel?” He raked long, unsteady fingers through his hair. “I’ve lost whatever little portion of my mind I had left. So if your brother told you I was crazy, he didn’t lie.”
“You are not crazy.” She frowned. “Is that where you were? With Baxter?”
“Hardly. No, I was walking.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I went out to clear my head.”
“Where did you walk?”
A pause. “To the River Arun.”
“Oh, Trenton.” Ariana touched his wrist tentatively, afraid to send him into another rage. “Why do you insist on torturing yourself?”
“I didn’t. She did.”
“She? Who?”
