Wishes in the Wind (25 page)

“You didn’t speak a word the entire way home.”

“I had a lot to think about.”

“Dammit.” Dustin’s breath expelled in a hiss, his gaze darting about their section of the stables, now momentarily deserted. “We need to talk. Alone. Tell me when.”

“I don’t know. My father is not in a particularly generous mood today.”

“He wanted to shoot me dead.”

“That was my fault. I’m not sophisticated enough to conceal … certain things.”

Dustin’s swallow was audible. “I should have insisted on speaking with him.”

“What would you have said?” Nicole asked softly, staring at the ground. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Besides, the point is a moot one. Papa doesn’t talk when he’s angry, he shouts, except when he’s truly outraged. In those cases, he stews for a while, then bellows. Evidently, this is one of those cases.” She sighed. “Immediately after shutting the door in your face last night, he stalked off to bed. He hasn’t spoken to me since. By this evening, he will.”

“Derby—” Dustin made a move to hold her, then checked himself. “I’m sorry. I never intended to—”

“Please, Dustin, stop apologizing.” On the heels of uttering his given name, and in her normal voice, she glanced about them, needing to verify that they were not being overheard. Reassured, she met his gaze, whispering, “I wanted those moments as much as you did.”

Emotion—heated, drenching—surged between them.

“I meant every word I said,” Dustin managed huskily.

“I know you did.” Nicole had to fight the relentless urge to fling herself into his arms. “But now is not the time to discuss this.” She wet her lips, her admission emerging in a breathless rush. “I’m having a hard enough time continuing this pretense in light of what’s happened.”

A vein throbbed at his temple. “I need to be with you.”

“Give Papa a few days. Give
me
a few days to bring him around. Please, Dustin, give me some time.”

Time. Her choice of words seemed to incite a private battle within him. Abruptly, he nodded, his intensity clearly unabated, yet somehow simmering beneath the surface. “Take whatever time you need. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“Will you?” she heard herself murmur, searching his face for some palpable assurance.

Emotion darkened his midnight eyes to near black. “The fires of hell couldn’t keep me away.” His gaze delved deep into hers. “And Derby, in answer to that silent wish you made moments ago, one day the child I’m holding
will
be ours.”

“T
HAT WAS BREATHTAKING.”

Ariana shook her head in amazement, leaning back from where she’d been perched, whip-taut, on a fence near the course’s end, straining to see Stoddard and Dagger complete their final lap. “I can’t remember the last time I saw such an impressive display of horsemanship. Dustin, you’re right.” She climbed down to stand beside her brother-in-law. “The Derby is all but yours.”

“Two minutes, forty seconds,” Raggert called out from a dozen feet away, looking as astounded as Ariana.

“Two and forty,” Dustin muttered, his expression pensive. “That beats last year’s Derby winner by six seconds. Taking into account that Tyreham’s course is similar in terrain to Epsom’s, and only several lengths shorter, I’d say that’s damned good. Damned, unbelievably good.”

He loped over to his jockey. “Stoddard, you’ve outdone yourself. Do that on Derby Day and first place is ensured.”

Nicole touched the brim of her cap. “I’ll certainly try, my lord.”

A broad grin split Dustin’s face. “Do that.” He glanced at Raggert, who had just reached them. “Do you still think Dagger is hopeless?”

Nicole blinked, astonished that Raggert had openly supplied Dustin with a negative assessment of Dagger.

The trainer’s response astonished her even more.

“I owe Dagger
and
Stoddard an apology,” he admitted. “I was too hard on them both. Sorry about that,” he said directly to her, a note of respect in his voice. “I had no idea you could ride like that.”

“Dagger’s the one who makes it possible. But I appreciate your praise.” With that, she glanced at Dustin. “I’m going to cool him down, if that’s all right, sir. He’s tired.”

“He’s not alone in that regard,” Dustin noted aloud. “You look rather peaked yourself. You’ve been pushing pretty hard these past few days. After Dagger’s cooled down, why don’t you take a few hours off?”

“Thank you, my lord. I appreciate that.” Nicole understood at once that Dustin was giving her the afternoon not only to recoup her strength but to work things out with her father.

“Are you staying at Tyreham?” Raggert was asking.

“Temporarily, yes,” Nicole replied cautiously. “Lord Tyreham has been kind enough to let me use one of the vacant cottages while I’m training for the Derby. It allows me more practice time.”

“Do you live far from here?”

The queries were innocent enough, but Nicole felt sweat begin to trickle down her back—sweat that had nothing to do with the exertion of galloping the course. “I live in London.” She kept her tone as casual as she could. “The East End.”

“Ah, that would take some travel time.” Raggert bobbed his head sympathetically.

“Yes, too much travel time.” She was being needlessly curt, and she knew it. But, apology or not, she couldn’t shake her mistrust for this man. And his questions, well-meaning or not, were unnerving her terribly.

As if sensing his rider’s unease, Dagger snorted, kicking the dirt.

“Sorry, boy.” Nicole patted his back. “I’d best walk him, my lord. If you’ll both excuse me …” She didn’t wait to be formally dismissed. After all, her responsibility was to Dagger, who’d just reminded her he needed cooling down.

So did her father, she reminded herself a half hour later as she approached the cottage.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the key in the lock. “I’m home.”

Silence.

Squaring her shoulders, Nicole braced herself for the tempest she was about to stir up. What she’d told Dustin had been the precise truth—her father hadn’t uttered a word since she crossed the threshold last night. But the look he’d given her had spoken volumes and, although he’d retired to his chambers posthaste, she’d heard him pacing the floors until dawn.

Silently, she chastised herself for being unable to conceal her guilt and embarrassment until reaching the privacy of her own chambers. Being honest was one thing, being stupid quite another.

She peeked into each room on the first floor, only to find them empty. With a frustrated sigh, she mounted the stairs, bypassing her room and heading directly to her father’s.

He was sitting in an armchair, staring off into space with an expression more brooding than angry.

“Papa, are you all right?”

A tired shrug. “I have no answer for you, Nickie.”

The anguish in his voice tore at Nicole as his anger never could. Slowly, she crossed the room, kneeling beside the chair. “Dustin let me leave early so you and I could talk.”

“That would be fine if I knew what to say.”

“I have a wonderful way to begin.” With renewed excitement, she seized his hands. “Dagger and I completed Tyreham’s course in two minutes and forty seconds.”

Her father reacted exactly as she’d prayed he would.

“Two and forty?” His head came up, triumph glittering in his eyes. “That’s six seconds faster than last year’s winner.”

“Yes. And Dustin said the course here is only a few lengths shy of the one at Epsom.”

“Bloody hell, you’re going to win the Derby!” Nick erupted, nearly crushing her fingers in his. “I knew it. I could feel it. But now it’s on the verge of happening.” He shook his head in proud amazement. “Damn, I’m proud of you, Elf.”

“Thank you, Papa.” She held his gaze. “Your pride means the world to me. If I ever lost it, I don’t know what I’d do.”

One dark brow arched. “You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you? Bringing me around like that headstrong stallion of yours.”

“You know me better than that. Horses excepted, I’ve never ‘brought anyone around’ in my life. I haven’t the tact or the patience for it. And, even if I did, I certainly couldn’t bring
you
around. You’re twice as stubborn as Dagger. No, Papa, the reason I spouted out my news was because I wanted to share it with you and because it was the perfect way to break the silence that’s separating us. We’ve always been able to talk, and now is no time to let that change. Shout at me if you must. Bellow out whatever anger or shame you’re experiencing, but please don’t erect a wall between us. I can’t bear that.”

“Shout? Bellow? I wish it were that easy.” Nick drew a slow, unsteady breath, then exhaled, his words taut with emotion. “When you were three years old and you played too close to the back end of a horse, I shouted. When you were five, and you took it upon yourself to ride bareback without permission, I bellowed. When you were ten, and you sneaked out, spending the night in the carriage so you could accompany me to the Manchester races, I punished you. But you’re twenty now, Nickie. You’re a grown woman. I can no longer set things right with a word or a deed. Have you any idea how terrifying that is for a father? To realize his child is in danger, and there’s not a bloody thing he can do to save her?”

“I’m not in danger, Papa.”

“Aren’t you? You’re getting more and more deeply involved with a man who, quite possibly, wants nothing more than what to him would be a few days, weeks, or months of pleasure, but what to you is the most precious gift you have to offer—a gift that can never be regained or offered again. And I don’t only mean the gift of your innocence, either. I mean all that goes with it—your heart, your soul, your spirit. You’re just like your mother, Nickie. You can offer no less than all of yourself. Once. To one man. And God help you if it’s the wrong man.”

“It isn’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Nicole scrutinized her father, insight sparking to life. “You don’t believe Dustin is the wrong man, Papa.”

“Belief and certainty are very different. In this case, they’re worlds apart.” Nick scowled. “Besides, we’re not discussing me, we’re discussing you. I asked how you can be so bloody sure Tyreham is the right man for you?”

Wetting her lips, Nicole addressed her father’s question in a way she prayed he’d understand. “You said I’m like Mama, at least in matters of the heart. Well, you’re absolutely right. Mama fervently believed that instincts were miracles; gifts bestowed upon us as guides to our future. And how could I doubt her? After all, her instincts guided her straight to the most wonderful man on earth—you. I remember her telling me it took but one glance for her to determine you were her future, a certainty she didn’t question once in fifteen years. Papa, I got that same feeling when I met Dustin, although I’ve spent every waking moment since then challenging my judgment.” A shaky sigh. “I suppose that’s because much of me is not like Mama but like you, practical, contemplative, considering every possible ramification. But, the fact is, no amount of logic or resistance can alter the simple, inevitable truth—I’m in love with Dustin Kingsley. He’s the right man. He has to be because he’s the only man I could ever feel this way about. I don’t know how to convince you. All I have is a feeling, and feelings come with no tangible evidence to plead their case. They also come with no guarantees, although I understand how badly you want me to have one. Papa.” Nicole’s voice quavered, and she could taste her own tears. “I love him. I’ve tried not to. I’ve done everything I know how to protect my heart. But it’s already lost—no, not lost, given. As for my virtue, which you forfeited a whole night’s sleep fretting over, it’s intact. The ironic thing is that the very man you mistrust is the one who made certain it stayed that way.”

A brief flash of relief—gone as swiftly as it appeared. “This isn’t only about … physical intimacy.”

“I know,” she answered simply. “Nor is my relationship with Dustin. There’s something special between us, something I can’t explain. An affinity, a magnetism, an innate understanding that’s been there from the start. I don’t know where our feelings will lead or even if I’ll be able to endure the outcome when it occurs. But I know I must try. If I don’t, I’ll be empty for the rest of my life. Please, Papa, put aside your protective instincts long enough to remember what it was like between you and Mama. Once you do, help me. I need you now every bit as much as I did when you lifted me onto my first horse and held me so tightly I knew I’d never fall.” A rueful smile shone through her tears. “Yes, I’ve grown. Unfortunately, my problems have followed suit. While I recognize I must seek my own answers and find my own solutions, it’s knowing your strength and love are there that gives me the courage to do so.” Her voice dropped to a hush. “I love him so much, Papa.”

A wealth of memories darted across Nick’s face as he gazed soberly down at his daughter. “I know you do, Elf.” Awkwardly, he groped for a handkerchief and dried her cheeks. “I don’t mean to make it harder for you. I just”—he cleared his throat—“want so much for you to be happy.”

“I realize that.” Nicole caught the handkerchief, pressed it between her palms. “I’m a lucky woman. I have two extraordinary men in my life who want my happiness and who always seem able to dry my tears.”

“I pray that lasts forever. But, Nickie, if anything should happen … if Tyreham should disappoint you, hurt you …” Another pause. “I’ll be here. Of course, I’ll tear him limb from limb first, but, after that—I’m not too old to hold you up and keep you from falling.”

“Nor am I too old to ask you to,” Nicole whispered. Reaching up, she gave him a hard, swift hug. “Thank you, Papa.”

“You’ll be wanting to see him again, I suppose?”

The gruff question made her grin. “You suppose right.”

“Well, tell him he can come by tonight—for a little celebration.” A spark of pride. “Two minutes forty seconds, you said?”

“That’s what I said.”

“That definitely calls for a drink. Tell Tyreham to be here at eight.”

“I could invite him for dinner,” Nicole suggested hopefully.

“Yeah? And who’s going to cook it?”

Her lips twitched. “I could invite him to
bring
dinner,” she amended. “Assuming his cook wouldn’t mind supplying it.”