Wishes in the Wind (45 page)

A true melding of her life and Dustin’s.

Smiling, Nicole recalled one of the highlights of the festivities: the moment she and Dustin had taken Brackley and Poole aside to a secluded cluster of trees in order to tell them the truth.

Solemnly, Dustin had explained that, as Brackley and Poole were more family than servants, he’d wanted to personally introduce them to his bride. Both men had been deeply moved, and Brackley had begun by humbly thanking Lord Tyreham for inviting him to this momentous occasion.

“My lady,” he’d then stammered, bowing awkwardly to her. “I’m honored to meet you.”

“And I as well, Lady Tyreham,” Poole had echoed, with a more practiced bow.

“Meet me?” With feigned surprise, Nicole had inclined her head quizzically. “Why, you both act as if we’re strangers.” Seeing their baffled expressions, she’d leaned forward, purposely lowering her voice to become Stoddard’s. “At least Dagger had the good sense to recognize me.”

Would she ever forget the looks on their faces?

“Damn.” Brackley’s mouth had dropped open. “I mean … forgive my language, my lady. I mean …”

“I know what you mean.” Nicole had squeezed his arm, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “Now this must remain our secret. I have no intention of relinquishing my Derby victory.”

Poole had stored for a full minute before speaking. “All this time …”

“All this time,” Dustin had assured him cheerfully.

Somehow, Nicole doubted poor Poole would ever recover from the fact that he hadn’t guessed the truth.

The bride’s musings were interrupted by a quiet click from behind her.

Pivoting about, Nicole’s heartbeat accelerated at the sight of her husband leaning back against their connecting bedchamber door, studying her from beneath hooded lids. Clad only in his dressing robe, he surveyed her hotly, drinking her in from the crown of her dark, unbound hair to the soft curves of her body, visible through her thin lace-trimmed nightgown.

“At last,” he said huskily. “The ultimate wish fulfilled.”

Crossing over, he drew her away from the window and into his arms.

Nicole gripped the lapels of his robe, her palms opening over the smooth silk. “And what wish is that?” she asked softly.

“You.” Tenderly, his thumbs caressed her cheekbones. “Do you know how many times I’ve stood in that doorway, scrutinizing this room and wondering if I’d ever find a reason to cross its threshold, a woman to fill its emptiness—and mine?” His gaze fell to Nicole’s wishing locket, and he caught it in his palm. “Perhaps your locket’s magic has extended to me, as well.”

“I’m sure it has,” Nicole breathed. “Everything about tonight is magic.”

Dustin’s midnight eyes darkened, his fingers tunneling through her hair. “Did I allow you enough time to get ready?” he asked in a tone that clearly said he had no intentions of granting her even one second more.

“Oh, indeed you did, my lord.” Nicole gave him a radiant smile. “I’m beginning to see the benefits of a lady’s maid. It’s amazing how much faster one can dress and undress with the proper assistance.”

“Really? Well, I hope you haven’t become overly accustomed to your new maid. You won’t be seeing her for many, many days. Then again—” Dustin’s hand tightened on his wife’s nape, urged her forward to receive his kiss. “You won’t be dressing, either.”

Nicole’s eyes drifted shut as Dustin’s lips brushed hers, a brief, heated caress that made her body tremble, her breath expel in a rush.

“My beautiful bride,” he whispered, “I’ve nearly died dreaming of tonight.”

“I’ve nearly died
waiting
for it,” she confessed, twining her arms about his neck.

He kissed her again, this time more deeply, caressing the delicate line of her spine and exploring her mouth with tenderness, desire, and a carefully leashed restraint that Nicole wanted no part of.

“Dustin—” She drew back, searched his face. “It’s been forever.”

“Longer,” he corrected. “But I want our wedding night to be everything you ever wished for.”

“It already is. It became that the instant we were pronounced man and wife.”

“Ah, Nicole.” Dustin’s embrace tightened, and he seized her mouth with a kind of raw desperation, opening it to his
^v
tongue, his taste, his possession. “I love you. God, I love you so much.”

She pressed closer, thinking that nothing could be more right than this exquisite, incomparable moment—only to find that the next one surpassed it. With uninhibited joy, she gave herself up to her husband’s spell, kissing him back with all the fervor in her soul.

Dustin groaned, lifting her up and into him, devouring her mouth with an urgency that far transcended the physical. His tongue sought and found every tingling surface, stroked them with tender, heated caresses that branded them as his. Molding her to fit against him, he held her there, cupping her bottom and pressing his rigid erection into the warm haven between her thighs, kissing her again and again until neither of them could think, or talk, or breathe.

Nicole’s head was spinning, her body liquid with longing as the hard ridge of Dustin’s flesh throbbed against her yearning core, burning through the fine layer of her nightdress. She wanted to part her legs to him, feel him thrust deep inside her, fill the hollow void he’d created and only he could fill. Instinctively, she moved against him, and he made a rough sound deep in his throat, crushing her closer still, his hands moving reverently over the hidden curves of her body.

“Dustin.” She tore her mouth from his. “Please—take me to bed.”

Her plea was more than enough.

Wresting himself away, Dustin seized the hem of her nightdress, pulled it over her head, and cast it to the floor. “You’re even more breathtaking than I remembered,” he managed hoarsely, his ravenous stare raking her with a need that made the throbbing inside her quicken.

With a heated shiver, Nicole reached forward, unbelting his robe and pushing it open. He flung it alongside her nightdress, then swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

“I want you more now than I did before—more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life,” he rasped, lowering her to the sheets. Ever so lightly, he traced the curves of her breasts, brushed the hardened peaks of her nipples, then stopped, fanning her hair out over the pillow and standing back to make love to her with his eyes.

Nicole’s breath was coming in shallow pants, her whole body flushed with arousal. Lying perfectly still, she surveyed her husband, wondering at the incredible sexual magnetism he exuded, as natural to him as breathing. He wasn’t even touching her, yet her body was throbbing in conjunction with each shift of his intensifying scrutiny. She nearly sobbed aloud when his gaze found the core of her femininity, his expression growing taut with strain, hot with desire. “Dustin.” She was hardly aware she’d said his name, her own greedy stare instinctively dropping to his rigid manhood, now huge and pulsing with its need for her. Awed, her gaze returned to—and locked with—his.

Dustin took an inadvertent step toward the bed, then checked himself, his jaw clenched against the tide of sensation they both knew was already out of control. “No,” he attempted, giving voice to the words. “I want to make this last for hours, days …”

“Dustin … please,” Nicole whispered, opening her arms to him.

Restraint vanished.

With a growl of capitulation, Dustin covered Nicole with himself, seizing her mouth in a kiss so openly carnal that Nicole moaned with the dizzying impact, arched instinctively against him. “Yes,” she breathed as his lips left hers, blazed a trail down her body, igniting an inferno every place he touched.

“Perfect,” he muttered against her breast, drawing the aching nipple into his mouth. “You’re heaven.”

“Oh, Dustin.” Nicole’s eyes drifted shut, and she shivered, holding his head to keep him there even as her body arched to lure him further along his path.

He captured her hands in his, intertwined their fingers as he shifted to her other breast, bathed it in liquid fire, then inched his way down the bed, worshipping her with reverent strokes of his mouth.

Abruptly, Nicole needed to share the magic, to discover the warmth and textures she’d been unable to explore during their one all-too-brief joining.

Wriggling free, she urged her startled husband to his back, running her palms over the powerful breadth of his shoulders, down the contours of his hair-roughened chest. “It’s my turn,” she whispered, gazing up at him.

Excitement flashed in Dustin’s eyes. “I’m all yours,” he murmured huskily, stretching his arms overhead.

Nicole felt a surge of exhilaration. She shifted her hands, teased his nipples with her thumbs, and was rewarded by his low groan of pleasure, the tightening of his nipples beneath her touch. Venturing downward, her fingers traced the steely muscles of his abdomen, the corded muscles of his thighs, and her gaze returned to his, saw the shimmer of anticipation reflected there.

She answered it.

Dustin went taut when her fingers closed around his shaft, stroked its rigid length. A hard shudder wracked his body, and he groaned—a primal sound of male need—before he seized her wrist, taught her the pleasure she was capable of bringing him, then relinquished himself to her magic.

Eagerly, Nicole complied, glorying in her husband’s blatant masculinity, her own wondrous sense of abandon as she teased him with featherlight strokes of her fingertips, more purposeful sweeps of her palm. A sudden thought struck her, and on impulse, she lowered her head, murmuring, “The way you made love to me in the cabin—with your mouth—would that please you as well?”

“I won’t survive,” he ground out, trembling as her hair swept his thighs.

She paused, giving him a siren’s smile. “Try,” she breathed, taking him into the warm cavern of her mouth, tasting him as he had her.

Dustin nearly launched off the bed. Whip-taut, he arched like a bowstring, gripping the headboard to steady the harsh tremors wracking his body. “Nicole, I can’t.” Even as he commanded her to stop, his hips lifted, begging her to take more of him.

Recalling her own helpless ecstasy when he’d done this to her, Nicole ignored her husband’s protests, concentrated on the mysteries of his body and the miracle of his response. She savored his size, his velvety hardness, the warm droplets of fluid he was unable to repress.

“Nicole … God, sweetheart, you’re killing me.” Desperately, Dustin fought to withstand the exquisite torture, broken love words escaping him, his knuckles white with the strain of holding back.

With a hoarse growl, he reached his limit.

“No more.” Dragging her from him, he rolled her onto her back, pressing her thighs wide apart. He knelt between her legs, staring down at her, his forehead slick with sweat, his midnight eyes nearly black with passion. “I’m about to explode.” He leaned forward, his fingers finding and opening her, sliding inside.

Nicole’s breath caught in her throat as Dustin stroked her delicate tissues, stretched her narrow passage to receive him. Sensuously, his fingers glided in and out of her heated wetness, his thumb circling and teasing the tight little bud that cried out for his possession.

“Now—oh, Dustin, now.” She sobbed aloud, twisting on the pillow, reaching for him.

“Not yet,” he muttered, his chest heaving with the exertion of holding back. “I’m too close to the edge. The minute I go into you, I’m going to erupt. I need you with me.

Drowning in passion, Nicole shook her head, realizing on some impalpable level that he was worried about giving her pleasure.
Dustin, please …
she wanted to shout.
I’m already over the edge. Please … please …

All words and thoughts vanished as he bent down, utterly possessing her with his mouth, his fingers continuing their unbearable assault as his lips and tongue devoured her sweetness.

Nicole shrieked, sensation slamming through her, screaming along her nerve endings, hurtling to a crashing peak beneath her husband’s sensual onslaught. “Dustin!” she sobbed, her entire being shattering in a wild, unbearable release.

Instantly, he raised up, thrust deep inside her, erupting even as he did. His climax intensified as Nicole’s tremors convulsed around him, and he surged forward, pouring into her in wild, drenching bursts of completion. “Nicole … hold me,” he ground out, lifting her legs higher, wider, needing to be as deep inside her as possible.

Nicole wrapped herself around him, gasping his name with each flood of his seed, each spasm of her body.

They collapsed in each other’s arms, Dustin’s head dropping into the crook of her neck, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his body buried inside her still.

Eyes closed, Nicole drifted, stroking her husband’s damp back, conscious of every magnificent nuance—his lingering shudders, his harsh, rasping breaths, but, most of all, the warm wetness of his seed inside her, the tangible evidence of their union. “I love you,” she whispered.

Shakily, Dustin raised up, gazed solemnly into his wife’s eyes. “God, how I love you, Mrs. Kingsley. And I was right. You
are
a miracle.
My
miracle.”

Tears glistened on her lashes. “You’re quite miraculous yourself, my lord.”

They fell silent, savoring the aftermath, awed by the total oneness spawned by their lovemaking.

Long moments later, Dustin stirred, sifting strands of Nicole’s hair through his fingers, and smiling that lazy, bone-melting smile that made her breath catch.

“What?” she murmured.

“I was just thinking that you did away with my noble intentions once again. I meant for this, our first joining as husband and wife, to be all I denied you the first time—slow, tender, prolonged. It was anything but.”

“That’s true. Are you disappointed?”

Again, that heart-stopping smile. “I’m drunk with discovery. Ecstatic with happiness. And insane with love. But disappointed? No.” He brushed her lips with his. “Besides, we have countless opportunities ahead of us tonight. This was but the first.”

Nicole shivered, her pulse quickening. “Also true. Tell me, my lord, how long must we wait before taking advantage of our second opportunity?”