Wishes In The Wind Part 18

Nicole whimpered, stroking the taut planes of his back, her lower body lifting instinctively to bring him closer. Dustin's body answered, thrusting forward, pressing deep, deep into the warm cavern he sought. His hips began a reflexive rhythm, nudging her thighs farther apart, driving him against her core with an agonizing motion thwarted only by their remaining layers of clothing.

Hot jolts of sensation coursed through Nicole, coiling low in her abdomen, pooling in liquid heat at the very spot where Dustin's hard ridge of flesh teased. Desperately, she sought more of the friction, matching his rhythm, arching each time he thrust, oblivious to everything but the need to ease the throbbing ache that only intensified with each frustrating roll of her hips.

"Nicole, don't. Ah, G.o.d ... sweetheart ..." Wildly, Dustin shook his head; his hands, in the process of shifting to his trouser b.u.t.tons, halting, balling into fists on either side of her, fists that shoved him away even as his hips urged him forward.

"No." Nicole caught his forearms, totally beyond rational thought as she tried to stay his retreat. "Oh, Dustin, if you stop ... I can't bear it."

"Nor can I." Sweat dampened his brow, his entire body quaking with unsquelched urgency. "But I have to stop. Derby, I'm going to shatter. I'm going to tear off your gown and take you right here, right now, and d.a.m.n the consequences."

"I don't care."

"Yes you do. And so do I."

Dustin's words were a sobering douse of reality, and Nicole fell silent, blinking bewilderedly up at him.

"My G.o.d, Nicole." He gazed deeply into her eyes. "Have you any idea what you do to me? What you reduce me to?"

"What?" she whispered, torn between unfulfilled need and the rush of shame beginning to claim her.

"This." He indicated their position, half naked and entwined on a wooden floor, and shook his head in awed amazement. "This is what you do to me. I'm frantic. So crazed to have you I'm ready to erupt. I planned nothing more than to taste your mouth, and I've all but taken you on the b.l.o.o.d.y cabin floor. No wine, no flowers, no soft words." A self-deprecating pause. "The accomplished lover you fear is no more. He vanished the instant I took you in my arms."

Those words went straight to Nicole's heart, holding her humiliation at bay. "That is the loveliest compliment you could ever pay me."

"It's no compliment," he replied solemnly, kissing the hollow between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "It's truth."

She shivered. "I still ache," she confessed in a tiny voice.

"My beautiful, honest Nicole." With the greatest of efforts, Dustin left her, rising to his knees and tugging her clothes into place. "I ache, too."

Watching his fingers refasten her gown, Nicole blushed crimson, reality descending in a great, rushing wave. "I look like a wanton."

Dustin seized her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Don't ever say that," he commanded fiercely. "Don't even think it. A wanton? You're a total innocent. What happened here was my doing, not yours."

Her smile was soft, starting deep within. "Thank you for your gallant attempt to spare my sensibilities. But I seem to recall partic.i.p.ating quite fully in our ... our ..." Again she blushed.

"Lovemaking," he finished for her. "Call it lovemaking, Nicole, because with us, that's all it ever could be." His grip eased, his fingers shifting to caress her cheek. "Shame has no place between us. Neither does regret." He started to say more, then decided against it.

"Every time I think I've adjusted to these feelings you inspire, you incite new ones," Nicole admitted. "I'm constantly flailing about in uncharted waters ... and drowning."

Dustin gathered her against him, his lips buried in her hair. "You might not believe this, Derby, but I feel exactly the same way. What's happening between us is astounding." His voice grew husky. "A miracle."

Nicole squeezed her eyes shut, moved beyond words by his implicit meaning, equally terrified by the enormity of what lay ahead-an enormity that was suddenly too great to bear.

Once the threats to her father were resolved, she'd no longer be able to hide behind the myth of Alden Stoddard, no longer be able to hold the future at bay. Presumably, she'd resume her life as Nicole Aldridge-leave Tyreham, the turf, and Dustin.

Unless she chose otherwise.

She knew, without question, that Dustin would expect some sort of decision from her with regard to their relationship. He'd stated over and over that he wanted her in his life, although in what capacity, she wasn't sure. But whatever her role, he certainly wouldn't settle for broken, isolated moments of privacy such as these. Neither, for that matter, would she.

So where did that leave them? Did he intend to offer her his name or only his bed and his protection? And, even if it were marriage he had in mind, did she have the strength-or the will-to sacrifice her way of life for his? To become, of all things, the marchioness of Tyreham? A role which, regardless of what Dustin claimed or how smitten he was, would involve relinquishing the stables for the manor, overseeing a staff, entertaining n.o.blemen, taking tea with their wives.

Dear Lord, how could she abide such an existence, much less conform to one?

"Nicole?" Dustin caught her face between his hands, tilting it back to read her expression. "What are you thinking?"

Her lashes lifted. "That there are so many obstacles."

"I'll overcome every d.a.m.ned one of them." With that, he stood, tugging her to her feet, steadying her when she swayed. "I will, you know," he vowed quietly, reb.u.t.toning his shirt and waistcoat. Tenderly, he reached forward, touching her wishing locket and giving her that bone-melting smile. "I'm not so foolish as to let a miracle get away."

Ten.

THE MAN FROWNED. THE grounds outside Epsom were exceedingly muddy, leaving ugly stains on his fine leather shoes. That meant he'd have to return home and change-an annoyance that did not fit into his plans at all.

Whatever the cause for today's meeting, it had best be important. d.a.m.ned important.

"I'm over here," came a raspy voice from a nearby cl.u.s.ter of trees.

The man veered toward it. "What is it, Cooper?" he hissed, glaring at the stable owner. "Have you found Aldridge?"

"Not yet, no."

"Then what the h.e.l.l was so important that you sent for me? Haven't you learned from our previous complication that we're not to be seen together?"

"Yeah, I learned." Coop leaned against the tree, folding his arms across his chest. "But we have a problem you should know about."

"Well?"

"Archer and Parrish took care of Sullivan. He told them nothing, and so far, he's made no move to go to Aldridge. Neither, for that matter, has Aldridge come to him. But someone else did."

"Who?"

"Tyreham."

The man sucked in his breath. "Kingsley went to Sullivan? Why?"

"He must be snooping around, either to find Aldridge or to find out why someone else wants him so bad. I don't know the details-Tyreham didn't exactly invite Archer and Parrish in for tea and conversation, but Archer said Tyreham got to the cottage right after he and Parrish left. Obviously, he saw the kind of condition Sullivan was in. I'm sure the old jockey told him what happened. The question is, what does Tyreham plan to do about it?" He paused, ma.s.saging his scarred forearm. "And what do we plan to do about Tyreham?"

"Indeed."

"That's not all. After he left Suffolk, Tyreham made another stop on his way home. At Preighbrook's."

"Dammit." The oath emerged in an angry hiss. "He must have connected Aldridge's disappearance to Redley's death."

"Well, he sure as h.e.l.l wasn't paying a social call. Preighbrook's so old he can barely stand up."

"True. But, being as feeble-minded as he is, he also couldn't have told Kingsley anything of importance."

The toe of Coop's boot dug into the ground, slashing blades of gra.s.s. "What do you want me to do, have Archer and Parrish thrash Tyreham?"

"I think not. Not yet." The man pursed his lips, idly fingering his silk neckcloth. "First let's see what the marquis has in mind. That should be easy enough to learn."

"How? You can't just walk in and ask him."

"I needn't do anything so rash as that. I have a new resource at Tyreham, remember?"

An ugly smile curved Coop's lips. "I'd almost forgotten. Yeah, that's right. You do."

"I'll contact that resource. In the meantime, tell Archer and Parrish to keep watching Sullivan's house. It's early yet. Perhaps news of the beating has yet to reach Aldridge-wherever he is. If I need further help with Tyreham, I'll summon you." A meaningful look. "Do not summon me."

His glance fell on Coop's forearm and, with a shudder of revulsion, he turned, retracing his steps over the damp grounds.

"You asked to see me, my lord?"

Poole stood at attention in the doorway to Dustin's study.

"Yes, Poole." Dustin rose from behind his desk. "Come in. And close the door behind you."

"As you wish, sir."

Dustin waited until the task was done, broaching the subject without further preliminaries. "You've been with me a long time, Poole. I needn't tell you how highly I value your abilities nor how greatly I rely upon your discretion."

"No, you needn't. But I thank you nonetheless."

"I require a favor."

"Anything, sir."

"One that must remain strictly between us."

"Of course."

Slowly, Dustin walked around front of his desk, perching on its corner. "This pertains to the missive we sent my brother, the one that brought him charging to Tyreham like a rampaging steed, and to the hoodlums that necessitated my sending it."

Poole's expression remained unchanged. "I gathered as much, sir."

"Your nephew, Thorne Saxon-he's still residing in Surrey, is he not?"

"He is." A flicker of comprehension. "He lives a mere ten miles away. And, if I might be so bold as to antic.i.p.ate your next question, he's now a fine, seasoned investigator. In fact, he just recently left the employ of Mr. Hackberth to strike out on his own."

"Why? Hackberth is one of the most respected investigators in England."

"Indeed, sir. But, at the risk of sounding overly boastful, Thorne has acquired quite a following-clients who had begun making specific requests for his services. Mr. Hackberth was exceedingly proud. After all, he was the one who taught Thorne all his skills. He was also the one who broached the subject of Thorne's opening his own firm. According to Mr. Hackberth, there were a dozen and a half clients who would be delighted to take their business to him."

"Impressive." Dustin's brows arched. "Also a generous display on Hackberth's part. Not that it surprises me. From what I know of Hackberth, he's a most gracious man. Heaven knows he has enough clients to spare a few. Still, giving Saxon his blessing was very kind of him." A pause. "And very fortunate for me."

"Shall I summon Thorne, sir?"

"If you would, yes. I'd like to hire him to be both a trained pair of eyes and a bit of brawn, should it be needed. As I remember, Saxon was powerfully built, even as an adolescent."

"Even more so, now that he's grown." Poole cleared his throat. "Are you in danger, sir?"

"I hope not. But I'm going to be delving into the matter of Aldridge's disappearance more fully. I'd like Saxon to accompany me." A slight smile. "I hope he's adept at handling a carriage."

"Sir?"

"I don't want whoever is behind this reprehensible scheme to know I've hired someone, or even that I'm taking precautions. Therefore, when Saxon travels with me, he must be disguised as someone easily overlooked."

Poole's eyes glittered. "Like a driver, for example."

"Exactly."

With a nod, Poole reached for the door. "I'll summon him at once, my lord. He'll be honored to serve you."

"Thank you, Poole."

Alone, and satisfied that he'd taken the necessary steps to ensure his own safety, just as he'd promised the Aldridges, Dustin resumed the line of thought that had preoccupied him throughout the night and into today.

Nicole-and their hour together in the cabin, sharing their thoughts, their dreams.

Their bodies.

With a harsh sound, Dustin reached for his coffee cup.

He'd be lying to himself if he denied that his contemplations had repeatedly converged on those exquisite moments on the cabin floor.

Moments as unrivaled as they were unplanned.

A surge of tenderness claimed him along with the wonder of discovery. He'd told Nicole she was a miracle, and she was, but so was what had transpired between them, sensations so utterly distinct, so different from l.u.s.t that they redefined the parameters of pa.s.sion as Dustin had known them. The smoky longing in her eyes, the absolute trust in her motions, the honesty in her words. During that precious time before he'd regained his sanity, there had been no doubts, no boundaries. There had been only the two of them and the extraordinary feelings unfolding between them. True, Nicole had no basis for distinguishing lovemaking from s.e.x. But he did-thanks to her. The contrast was humbling.

As was the realization that had he not recovered his senses, she would have offered him her innocence.

And hated herself afterward.

Frowning, Dustin gulped down his coffee, confronting the gnawing anxiety that was as real, and as intense, as his elation-an anxiety that had hammered at his brain throughout the long hours till dawn.

What emotional damage had been done during those few poignant minutes? And how could he rectify it, overcome Nicole's guilt and regret, and convince her that what had happened between them was as right as dawn melding with day?

He'd never forget how bereft she'd looked, her awe transforming to shame even as they dressed-shame and self-reproach. Further, she openly placed blame for what had occurred not with him but with herself-a fact as untenable as her ensuing reaction. The result was that along with her gown, she'd restored that d.a.m.ned emotional barrier she'd erected between them, and no matter how valiantly Dustin had tried, he'd been unable to tear it down again. Not during those last seconds at the cabin, nor during their silent walk to her cottage. Several times his frustration had been so great he'd actually considered breaking his vow to Aldridge and spiriting Nicole away, just to rekindle her wonder, her dizzying joy, and, yes-if he were to employ that esteemed honesty she'd taught him-to keep her beside him, where she belonged. Lord, how he'd wanted to obliterate her self-condemnation, her qualms, her bewilderment; to see her face suffused with the exhilaration she'd displayed earlier.

And blame? Well, if blame were to be a.s.signed, he should be its sole recipient. Because he was seasoned enough to have antic.i.p.ated how devastating it would be to a virtuous young woman like Nicole to realize she'd come so close to surrendering her innocence. That unlike he-who understood that, despite the beauty of their physical encounter, their most profound sharing had occurred before they'd even touched-Nicole was too young, too naive to make that distinction. And, as much as he'd yearned to make her see the strength of what existed between them, he knew she wasn't ready. It was too soon to expect her to relinquish her doubts and fears, too soon for her to make the ultimate commitment he sought.