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“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?
Filled with questions, Ariana ducked beneath the water, rinsing the soap from her hair, wishing she could just as easily wash the insecurities from her mind.
“Would you like some help, my lady?” Theresa leaned over to wipe Ariana’s eyes with a thick towel.
Ariana smiled at the irony of the question, knowing Theresa too well to assume she’d merely meant help with the bath. “I’m more than a little muddled. Yes, I’d say I need some assistance.”
Theresa perched on the side of the tub. “You’re feeling better, my lady?” She broke off, her eyes twinkling. “Pardon me … Your Grace,” she corrected herself. “Now that is going to take some getting used to!”
“For both of us,” Ariana agreed quietly.
With a knowing lift of her brows, Theresa continued: “Shall we begin by confronting your questions about last night?”
“You were right,” Ariana blurted out. “He didn’t hurt me.
