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Ariana trusted him. Despite everything he was putting her through, she trusted him. His answer was as simple as that.

Snatching up the journal, Trenton stalked out of the room and down the hall, rapping purposefully on his wife’s door.

“Yes?”

He found Ariana brushing her hair at the dressing table. Seeing the spontaneous joy that flashed across her face, he felt a stab of guilt. This was the first time he’d sought her out since their return to Broddington—except each night, when he fused their bodies in an urgent attempt to bury his pain along with his seed, to lose himself inside this miraculous woman who loved him.

Shoving the door shut, Trenton tossed the journal onto her bed. “Vanessa and I were never lovers.”

Slowly, Ariana placed her brush down. “I see.” She stood, walking over to him. “I’m glad.”

“You believe me?”

“If you tell me you and Vanessa weren’t lovers, then, yes, I believe you.”

“Despite what you read in the journal?”

Ariana tipped her head back to look up at him. “Vanessa’s words can’t alter what I’ve learned about you this past month. You’re an ethical, principled man. Seduction is not something you would treat lightly.”

“I’ve told you I’m not a hero, Ariana,” he warned quietly. “Nor was I so terribly noble when it came to women. I’ve had my share.… Your sister just didn’t happen to be one of them.”

A spark of amusement flickered in Ariana’s eyes. “So I gathered from Dustin. Plus, don’t forget I’ve experienced your … proficiency first hand. So I assure you I’m not surprised to learn I wasn’t the first woman in your bed.”

Trenton stared down at her, unsmiling. “There was a time when I was greatly drawn to Vanessa. If I hadn’t happened upon the truth when I did, things might have been different.”

“What truth?”

He inhaled sharply. “I have a lot to tell you. None of it is very pretty.”

“I’m listening.”

Without giving himself time to reconsider, Trenton related the whole story. He spoke of his first meeting with Vanessa, her faithlessness, her obsession to wed him, her ultimate treachery. Last, he recounted the night she’d died.

“I did threaten to kill her,” he admitted harshly. “I wanted to kill her.”

“But you didn’t kill her.” Ariana’s face was white, her eyes wide and stunned by all she was ingesting.

“Nor did she kill herself.” Trenton shook his head adamantly. “Not unless she’d gone totally mad. You didn’t know her, Ariana. Not really. I did. In her right mind, Vanessa would never have taken her own life.”

“She was my sister, Trenton!”

“But you were a child. You didn’t know what she was capable of … what they were both capable of.”

“Both?” Ariana looked ill. “This involves my brother, doesn’t it?”

“If you don’t want to hear it, stop me now.” Trenton cupped her chin. “I detest hurting you any more than I already have, misty angel.”

“Tell me,” she whispered.

“Baxter apprised you of the fact that I had Vanessa’s journal. Did he mention how I got it?”

“He said you threatened him and our family; that he had no choice but to give it to you.” Her voice trailed off. “He was lying, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” Trenton wanted to brutalize Baxter at that moment; not for what he’d done to the Kingsleys, but for what he was doing to Ariana. “Your brother sent for me immediately after Vanessa’s death. He accused me of killing her. I denied it. He produced the journal, read me portions of it. I was shocked and sickened by Vanessa’s warped interpretation of our relationship. But Caldwell wanted more than my reaction, even more man my humiliation. He wanted my money.”

Ariana clutched at Trenton’s forearms. “He blackmailed you?”

“Repulsive as it sounds, yes. He showed me Vanessa’s suicide note, said the choice was mine. His precious sister was gone and nothing could bring her back. He wanted compensation … and he wanted it now. In short, he was either going to quietly mourn Vanessa and go on with his life, or furnish the journal, and implicate me as a murder suspect. It was as simple as that.”

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