Wishes in the Wind (7 page)

“You’ve made your point, my lord—Dustin,” she amended, detecting the clenching of his jaw. “Now what is it you want from me?”

“From whom? Nicole Aldridge or Alden Stoddard?”

“Both.”

“Very well.” He walked slowly toward her. “From Alden Stoddard, I want answers.”

“That’s what I was afraid of, once you mentioned this mysterious incident you have yet to disclose.” Sighing, Nicole resettled her cap more firmly on her head. “So you
were
toying with me when you offered me the job.”

“You didn’t let me finish. I also want first place in the Derby. And I believe Stoddard is the man to hand it to me.”

“You were serious then?” Her chin shot up. “The job is mine?”

“Um-hum.” He stifled a grin—as well as a nearly unbearable urge to haul her against him and kiss her senseless. “If your father says you’re that good, you must be.” He continued toward her, halting only when mere inches separated them. “Is everything you said about being Aldridge’s protégé true?”

“Yes. I practically grew up in the stables.”

Dustin searched her face. “Why?”

“Because I adore horses. Because I come alive when I ride.”

“That wasn’t the question I wanted answered.”

“I suspected as much.” Nicole’s fists knotted at her sides, steeling her to deliver the necessary reply. “Which why did you require an answer to? Why am I dressed this way? Because the marquis of Tyreham couldn’t be expected to take me seriously as a female jockey. Why is my father taking this risk? Because he believes, as I do, that I’m a damned good rider. And why now? Because Papa’s life depends on it. Does that cover all your whys?”

Despite the menacing significance of her final words, Dustin chuckled. “You and Dagger should be a good match. You’re as fiery as he.”

Nicole blinked. “Nothing I just said surprised you, did it?”

“No.” He raised her clenched fist to his lips, unable to resist teasing her. “But I do think you owe me an apology for assuming I’d dismiss your riding abilities simply because you’re a woman.”

Now she looked totally stunned. “Have you given any thought to the consequences of allowing me to ride in the Derby?” Guilt tinged her cheeks as she realized how true her words were. “If not, you must. You’re renowned and respected on the turf. You could be disqualified, penalized, if someone should see through—”

“They won’t.” His breath grazed her knuckles. “But I thank you for your integrity and your concern.” Kissing a path to her wrist, he smiled at the way her pulse accelerated at his touch. “I know what I’m doing, my fervent Derby contender. Fret not. Beneath my”—he raised his head, giving her a wicked grin—“handsome, well-bred, and devastatingly charming exterior lies a shrewd businessman, one who is hell-bent on winning. And winning means taking risks. I’m taking one with Dagger. I’m taking another with you. Both will pay off.”

“And you called me arrogant?” Nicole murmured, shivering a bit as he nuzzled the sensitive underside of her forearm. Lashes lowered, her expression was an open contradiction of dazed awareness and stubborn denial as she struggled to retain her train of thought. “Dustin, what I said about Papa—you knew, didn’t you? That he’s in trouble, I mean. Whatever occurrence preceded my arrival, it alerted you to that fact.”

“Yes. I knew.” He hesitated. “Two men called on me this morning just prior to your visit. It seems they spotted my personal in the
Gazette
and would prefer I not hire your father. They told me so in no uncertain terms.”

“They threatened you?”

“More or less.” A wave of tenderness swept through him at the sight of her worried expression. “Fear not, love. I can take care of myself.” His glance turned meaningful. “And my houseguests, as well.”

“If Papa and I stay here, we’ll be endangering you.”

“No you won’t.” Dustin pressed his forefinger to her lips, silencing her protest. “Guaranteed. Now, tell me what your father’s done to anger the wrong people enough to pursue him and to necessitate your taking the drastic step of masquerading as a boy.”

That distracted her, and she stiffened, sparks of anger igniting her eyes. “I’m not masquerading. Other than the difference in gender, Alden Stoddard is Nicole Aldridge. This”—she indicated her attire—“is who I am. The person you met the other night was a facade. She doesn’t really exist.”

“Doesn’t she?” Dustin drew her closer. “You’ve haunted me for two nights you know. Which leads me to another why. Why did you run away? Did you think I meant you or your father harm?”

“It wasn’t you. I would have run from anyone who approached me.” She hesitated.

“Nicole, if you’ll forgive my bluntness, I already know far more than you originally intended. You might as well tell me the rest. And, sweetheart, you can trust me.”

Slowly, she nodded. “I do trust you. I have from the start. I’m not certain why, but I do.” She inhaled sharply. “There are horrible men after Papa—and all because he’s honest and won’t succumb to their demands to forfeit races.”

“Money. Why am I not surprised?” Dustin’s jaw tightened fractionally. “Have you seen these men?”

“No, but I’ve witnessed their threats firsthand.” In a rush, she detailed what had happened after the 2,000 Guineas when she discovered the ominous message in Oberon’s stall. “Papa and I fled Newmarket then and there. The thought of losing Papa—I was terrified. I still am. Then I met you, and your kindness meant more than I can say. But when you pressed for my full name, I panicked. Given Papa’s fame, I knew you’d recognize the surname Aldridge the instant I said it. And, being that Sully had just circulated the rumor that Papa was recuperating in Scotland, I couldn’t risk your guessing that if Nick Aldridge’s daughter were still in London, Nick would be, too. So I bolted.”

“‘Sully’?” Dustin pounced on her reference.

“Gordon Sullivan. The only other person who knows Papa’s whereabouts.”

“Ah, yes, Sullivan.” A nod. “I’ve seen him race. He’s a fine jockey.”

“He’s also our closest friend. He helped us locate safe quarters, then spread the news of Nick Aldridge’s supposed injury. The rest was up to me.”

“Up to you?”

“Yes. I convinced Papa to entrust me with the responsibility of earning our wages, at least for a time. After fifteen years, I was more than able to fulfill the requirements of any job in the thoroughbred world.”

“As a boy.”

“As a boy,” Nicole confirmed. “But first, I had to find an available position. In order to do that, I had to pore over the ads of every newspaper I could get my hands on, which meant I had to venture onto the streets of London to buy those newspapers.” She grimaced. “So I dressed the only way I could to ensure concealment—in the reprehensible apparel I had on the night we met.”

“You looked lovely.” Dustin couldn’t help but grin at her shudder of revulsion—the complete antithesis of any reaction he’d ever received from a lady. “The only way you could ensure concealment …” he repeated. “Am I to conclude you don’t often don conventional attire?”

“Never, if I can help it. I only own two gowns, and those I bought just to appease Papa. Only for him would I have suffered the misery of wearing that ridiculous day dress. Not to mention that torturous corset, which nearly succeeded in suffocating me to death.”

Laughter rumbled from Dustin’s chest. “So that was the cause of your near swoon.”

“Corsets should be declared illegal,” she informed him with a lift of her chin.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He caressed her nape, keenly attuned to her tiny quivers of pleasure. “I’ll remember never to suggest that you wear one.” His voice grew husky. “We have yet to probe the question, what do I want of Nicole?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“Don’t be.” He tipped her head up to his. “One kiss,” he urged, nipping at her lower lip. “The same one we began but never finished.”

“Dustin—” The bewildered expression was back on her face. “Given the circumstances, I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But, as I told you, I believe in taking risks, especially when my instincts scream out that I should.” He drew her close.

“My instincts are shouting just the opposite,” she whispered, wide-eyed.

“In that case, let’s listen to mine.”

With that, his mouth closed over hers, silencing her protests and completing the awakening that had begun two nights before, on a private bench along a moonlit walk.

A kiss—Dustin knew it only as a prelude to passion, the preliminary step in an age-old dance that culminated in bed.

Not so with Nicole.

The sweetness of her mouth, the hesitant parting of her lips as she silently granted him entry, was a breathtaking entity unto itself, as foreign as it was humbling. Trembling with emotion, Dustin enfolded her in his arms, deepening the kiss in deliberate, gradual shimmers of sensation. His tongue glided inside, softly stroking every velvety surface, learning every delicate texture. Then it sought hers, melding in an exquisite, shattering caress more poignant than anything he’d ever experienced.

Nicole felt the impact, too, for she stiffened, clinging and retreating all at once.

“Don’t.” Dustin breathed the protest into her open mouth, tightening his embrace even as he ordered himself to slow, to remember her innocence, her inexperience with men.

He felt as inexperienced as she.

“Stay.” His lips circled hers. “Just a moment longer—stay.”

She paused, and he could actually feel her indecision.

Cautiously, he repeated the caress, his tongue penetrating, sliding sensuously against hers.

She melted, moaning softly and entwining her arms about his neck.

“Yes,” he managed, shuddering at the. unbearable beauty of the contact. “Nicole … kiss me.” He molded her against him, feeling the pounding of her heart, the fragility of her form, the awakening of her response.

On and on the kiss went, tenderness melding with fire, the intensity escalating until it was nearly unbearable.

Abruptly, Nicole pulled away. “No.”

“Yes.” He reached for her, scowling as she backed off.

“I can’t,” she gasped, wildly shaking her head as if searching for a rational reason for her actions. “W-we come from different worlds.” She continued to retreat; Dustin continued to advance. “I work for you,” she tried, feeling the door behind her, tugging at the handle only to recall he’d locked it. “I’m supposed to be a man,” she burst out.

That had the desired effect.

Halting, Dustin stared at her, the ironic significance of her words sinking in. “Damn.” He raked a hand through his hair, his gaze roving restlessly from her jockey’s attire back to her kiss-swollen lips, the contrast slapping him like a douse of cold water.

Sharply, he inhaled. “We have a problem, Derby.”

The affectionate term brought frustrated tears to her eyes. “Don’t retract your offer,” she entreated. “Let me ride for you—and not just because of my dreams to race. Because of Papa. Please, Dustin. I’ll stay away from you. We’ll never kiss again—I promise.”

Whatever he’d been about to say vanished in the wake of her ludicrous vow. “What did you say?”

“I said we’ll never kiss again. You have my word.”

His chuckle erupted with a will all its own. “And you have my word we
will
kiss again. As for your unfounded apology, let me remind you that you didn’t initiate the kiss. I did.”

She contemplated that truth. “Very well, then, I promise to unman you if you ever initiate another.”

Dustin’s shoulders shook. “How comforting. I appreciate the warning, Derby. I’ll be sure to protect myself against oncoming injury the next time I take you in my arms.” Noting her drawn expression, he sobered, a wave of tenderness constricting his chest. “Alden Stoddard—what made you choose that name? The Alden, I assume, you derived from Aldridge.”

A flicker of hope invaded Nicole’s eyes. “Yes, I did. I wanted a bit of Papa with me when I raced. As for Stoddard—” She smiled. “It means ‘keeper of horses.’”

“Most fitting.” Dustin extracted his handkerchief, gently drying her eyes. “It appears my handkerchief is being put to use after all.”

“It appears so.”

Their gazes locked.

“Well, Stoddard,” Dustin emphasized the name, glancing over to consult the clock, “I suggest you take your leave. You’ll need time to collect your belongings and your father, then return to Tyreham for a good night’s sleep. I’ll have the cottage stocked with food. Training begins tomorrow at six A.M.”

Nicole’s smile was radiant. “Thank you, Dustin,” she whispered. Self-consciously, she cleared her throat, lowering her voice to a slightly deeper pitch. “Six A.M., my lord,” Alden Stoddard replied with a nod. “I’ll be at the stables—ready to train for our victory at Epsom.”

“Coop? We’re here.”

In the process of grooming his chestnut mare, Farley Cooper gave no sign that he’d heard the muffled proclamation. To the contrary, he kept his gaze fixed on the horse rather than raising it to the two men who’d, moments ago, entered his darkened stables.

Approaching boots plodded through the muck, then fell silent, alerting Coop to his visitors’ proximity.

“Did you hear me?” the heavyset man pressed. “We’re back from Tyreham. We had our chat with the marquis.”

“I heard you, Parrish.” Coop smoothed his horse’s velvet coat. “But before I listen to another word, did you make sure no one saw you come in here?”

“It’s nearly midnight, Coop. Who the hell would be at your stables except us and the horses?”

“I said, did you make sure?” Coop snapped.

“Yeah, we made sure,” the second visitor piped up. “The place is deserted. So are the grounds.”

“Good.” The brush stroked downward and paused. “So, what did you learn from Lord Tyreham?”

“That he doesn’t like to be threatened.” Parrish scowled, remembering the marquis’s surprisingly muscular build, his lethal reaction to the very mention of his nephew. “He’s sure as hell not soft like most blue bloods. In fact, he’s damned menacing when he’s mad.”

“I didn’t ask for an assessment of his character,” Coop spat. “I asked what you learned from him. Did Aldridge answer Tyreham’s ad or not?”

“Not accordin’ to the marquis.” Parrish shook his head. “And even if I thought he was lyin’, which I don’t, Archer and I have been snoopin’ around that estate for two days now. Especially the stables. And neither one of us saw any sign of Aldridge.”