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“Is that what happened?” Trenton opened his mouth over hers, urging her thighs apart and settling himself between them. “Odd, I see it differently. I rescued you, yes, but in the end it was I who was saved. Although I admit my loss that night was far more extensive than yours.”
“Your loss?” Ariana’s voice was breathless, her body opening to receive the intimate invasion of his. “I don’t understand …”
Reverently, Trenton gazed down at his wife, burying himself, body and soul, in her welcoming warmth. “On that night, my love, you lost only your way. While I lost my heart.”
“Sorry to leave Spraystone?” Trenton asked, resting his chin atop Ariana’s bright head as the Kingsley carriage made its way to Broddington.
“Yes … and no,” Ariana replied truthfully, warm and content in Trenton’s arms. “The past few days have been heaven. But I miss Broddington and Theresa and Dustin. Poor Dustin …” she smiled ruefully, “he must be thoroughly confused and pacing the floors awaiting our return.”
“I suspect Dustin has kept himself quite busy.” The sparkle in Trenton’s eyes was lost to his wife, whose face was buried in her husband’s shoulder. “Besides, I more or less explained the outcome of things in my letter. Dustin won’t be worried.”
“Nor will Theresa. I’m sure she knew even without the letter.”
“I’m sure she did.”
Ariana tilted her head back to gaze out the window at the darkening sky. “I wonder where Odysseus is. I half-hoped he’d visit us on Wight.”
Trenton smiled. “As did I. I owe him a huge debt of thanks. Your owl turned out to be quite a hero.”
“As I said, he’s much like you, Trenton: an unwilling champion and a solitary wanderer seeking his way.”
Gratefully, Trenton tightened his hold about his wife. “My solitary days are over.
I’ve found what I’m seeking.”
Anticipation coursing through him, Trenton knew there was but one thing remaining to make his joy complete.
Twilight had given way to dusk when the carriage passed through Broddington’s iron gates. The manor was quiet, devoid of activity.
Ariana frowned as Trenton helped her alight. “I wonder where Jennings is: It’s not like him to ignore a message. You did tell them when we’d be returning, didn’t you?”
“I did.” Trenton looped an arm about Ariana’s waist, guiding her away from the front door and toward the path that led to the side of the house.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Trenton … what on earth is going on?” Ariana was totally bewildered. While the manor itself seemed deserted, a bright glow emanated from the direction in which they were headed.
“Come, misty angel, we don’t want to be late.”
“Late? Late for what? Where are you taking—” Her voice was abruptly silenced, transformed into a quiet gasp of stunned disbelief. “Oh my God …”
The conservatory rose before them, regal and majestic, its doors thrown open wide. In the center of the room was an enormous fir tree, illuminated by hundreds of tiny wax tapers, decorated with candy, fruit, and charms. The glow of the candles drenched the conservatory in golden light that spilled out onto Broddington’s waiting grounds.
Draped around the room, from corner to corner, were ropes of evergreen sprigs; laurel leaves with rosettes of bright colored paper, punctuated with wreaths of ivy and berries. Delicate chrysanthemums and camellias were arranged in baskets, and a huge table, piled high with gifts, was tucked against the far wall, beckoning Ariana toward it.
Most of all, were the beloved, smiling faces: Dustin, Theresa, even Jennings, beaming at Ariana, sharing her joy, their eyes filled with love.
It was Christmas.
“Trenton … I…” Tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks, Ariana couldn’t speak.
“Come, love.” He took her hand, guiding her into the fairy-tale-come-true. “Aren’t you going to open your presents?”
“Wait!” Dustin called out, pointing to the ceiling. “You’re standing underneath the mistletoe.”
With a twinkle, Trenton drew Ariana into his arms and kissed her. “Merry Christmas, misty angel,” he murmured.
