Wishes In The Wind Part 6

That had the desired effect.

Halting, Dustin stared at her, the ironic significance of her words sinking in. "d.a.m.n." 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 a.s.sume, 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 m.u.f.fled 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 h.e.l.l 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 h.e.l.l not soft like most blue bloods. In fact, he's d.a.m.ned menacing when he's mad."

"I didn't ask for an a.s.sessment 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."

"I don't see why Tyreham would hire a jockey he means to stash away, Coop," Archer commented, scratching his head. "Maybe Aldridge really is in Scotland."

"Maybe." Coop abandoned his task, dragging a scarred forearm across his brow, and veering slowly to face them. "But we know d.a.m.ned well he's not hurt. Scared probably, but not hurt."

"Who cares?" Parrish shrugged. "Wherever he is, he's not racin'. So who needs him? I say we let him rot."

"You say?" A warning flashed in Coop's eyes. "You're not paid to think, Parrish, you're paid to act. And I say we try a different approach to unearth Aldridge."

Parrish scowled, failing to hear or heed the implicit threat in Coop's reprisal. "There's no point," he persisted. "Aldridge is useless to us if he's not in the saddle. So why are we wastin' our time ..."

He never completed his statement.

In one motion, Coop whipped a blade from his boot and shoved Parrish against the wall, the knife at his throat. "Shut up, you stupid fool," he hissed. "Or I'll carve you into little pieces. I said I want Aldridge. More specifically, our employer wants Aldridge-no matter where he is or what he's doing. The reasons don't matter, the outcome does. So, if you both want to stay healthy"-his glance darted to Archer, watching him flinch as the blade nicked Parrish's skin, drawing a drop of blood-"you'd better find him. Fast. Have I made my point?"

"Yeah, Coop. You made it," Parrish squeaked.

An instant later he was freed, and he leaned against the wall, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a nearby cloth and pressing it to his neck. "You want us to go to Glasgow and search?"

"Search where, you dimwit? Glasgow is a city, not a village. What would you do, comb the streets asking each pa.s.serby if he'd seen a wayward jockey?"

"What about startin' with Aldridge's relatives-you know, the cousins of his dead wife? Wouldn't he be stayin' with them like the rumors say?"

"First of all, rumors are rarely fact-especially if they're started by a man who chooses not to be found. Second, our employer has used all his resources to uncover these supposed cousins. They've vanished from the face of the earth, if they ever existed at all. So, we're back where we started. Even if Aldridge is in Glasgow, we don't know where he's hiding. He might very well have a.s.sumed a disguise and a new ident.i.ty to keep from being found. Besides"-Coop's lips curved into an ugly smile-"my guess is there's a much easier way to get our hands on him. Rather than scour the whole British Isles, we'll simply get him to come to us."

"And how do we do that?" Archer asked cautiously.

"Through Sullivan."

"Sullivan?" Parrish blinked. "He's Aldridge's best friend. He's sure as h.e.l.l not goin' to help us find him."

"Not willingly. But with a bit of persuasion."

"You want us to rough him up a little?"

"No, I want you to rough him up a lot. And not only with your fists. Use whatever tools you need. Make it messy, but not fatal. We need Sullivan alive. I want news to reach Aldridge that, just to discover his whereabouts, you thrashed his buddy within an inch of his life. As for Sullivan, I want him coherent and so terrified that, if he does know where Aldridge is, he'll happily furnish us with the address. Or at the very least, he'll wire Aldridge on his own and plead with him to reemerge."

"What if Sullivan doesn't know Aldridge's hidin' place?"

"Then we wait. It shouldn't take long for Aldridge to get wind of Sullivan's brutal beating. I expect he'll be on the next rail home."

"You think so?"

"I do indeed. Remember, Aldridge has just two weaknesses, his daughter and his old pal Sully. And since the little chit Nicole is tagging along with her father, Sullivan is our only remaining bait. Further, devotion aside, you know how honorable"-the word was a bitter sneer-"Aldridge is. If he won't throw a race, he sure as h.e.l.l won't sacrifice his friend's life to save his own neck."

"You're probably right."

"I know I'm right." Pensively, Coop regarded the tip of his blade. "Grab Sullivan at home, not the stables. That would be too risky, especially given how thorough a job you need to do and how much time it'll take to do it right. You know where he lives." His gaze shifted back to his henchmen. "Now get on it."

Glancing at Archer, Parrish shifted uncomfortably, still holding the cloth to his neck. "Uh, Coop-I know you're busy"-he wet his lips-"but you did say we'd get our money after we finished with Tyreham."

"No," Coop corrected, a paralyzing gleam reigniting his eyes. "I said you'd get a portion of your money after you finished with Tyreham. How much of it depended on how much information you unearthed-which, in this case, is nil. What's more, I have a strong aversion to greed, especially when the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who display it haven't done a thing to earn their keep." His grip on the knife tightened until his knuckles were white. "And I have an even stronger aversion to being pressured."

"C-Coop ..." Sweat broke out on Parrish's brow."-we didn't mean ..."

"Don't do it again." Coop shoved his free hand into his pocket, extracting several five-pound notes. "Here." He tossed the money at Parrish's feet, waiting until the frightened thug had s.n.a.t.c.hed it up. "Split that with Archer," he commanded. "It's all you're going to see until you've finished this job. Now get the h.e.l.l out. And don't come back until Sullivan's been taken care of and Aldridge is on his way home."

"Okay, Coop." Archer had already begun backing off.

Parrish glanced at Archer, then at the meager amount he held. Hastily, he straightened, abandoning all thought of arguing the insufficient sum. "Thanks, Coop," he muttered, inching away a hairbreadth behind Archer. "We'll take care of everything."

"You'd better. I react even more violently to being failed than I do to being pressured." With callous deliberation, Coop stared down at his scarred forearm, kneading the disfigured skin. "Needless to say, so does our employer."

Five.

"PAPA, I'VE TAKEN CARE of everything." Nicole glanced out the cottage window, noting that the sun was beginning to peek its head up over the horizon. "Why are you behaving like an ornery tiger?"

"Because I feel like one, that's why."

With an exaggerated sigh, Nicole tucked the final pin into her upswept hair, tugging at her cap to make certain it wouldn't budge.

"Why not clamp your hair down with steel bands?" Nick muttered, glaring at her over the rim of his coffee cup. "You've already done that to your chest."

Nicole bristled, unused to her father's disapproval-or his explicit references to her figure. "I'm doing what I must." She eyed herself critically, making certain the binding beneath her shirt was doing its job. Satisfied that her curves were totally concealed, she crossed the cottage's small but cozy kitchen and poured herself some coffee. "What's more, you knew what I intended when I responded to the marquis's ad. Disguising myself as a boy was a crucial part of my plan. I wore this binding when I left for my interview yesterday, and you did no more than grumble. So why have you been ranting since I returned with the news that I'd gotten the position?"

"Because a few unexpected changes accompanied you back from Tyreham," Nick retorted, slamming his cup to the table. "None of which I had time to consider during our flight from the inn. h.e.l.l, I scarcely had enough time to wire our new address to Sully. But I've had plenty of time to think since then. And I'm furious at myself for allowing you to push me into this insanity."

"Papa, I thought you'd be pleased with this cottage. It's more than adequate for our needs, and Lord Tyreham has generously offered it free of charge."

"I'm not talking about the cottage and you know it. I'm talking about the reasons why we had to move here in such a blasted hurry. If you remember, your plan in trying to get this job was to buy us time-and wages-until I could resurface from this b.l.o.o.d.y seclusion I'm confined to. We agreed you would train in my stead to pretend to compete in the summer meetings. Pretend, Nickie. I made it plain that I refuse to allow you to actually enter those races. So what happened? Lord Tyreham was so impressed by my letter and your skills that he decided to speed up our schedule. To have you run the Derby. This year's Derby, the one that's taking place in three weeks. Needless to say, you were thrilled and agreed straightaway, without even consulting me. Like a tempest, you whirled us up, swept us off to Tyreham, and now intend to begin full-time training in"- he glanced at the clock-"a quarter hour. Well, dammit Nicole, I'm still your father. And I can still forbid it."

"But you won't," Nicole replied softly. "Because you, better than anyone, know how much running the Derby means to me. Oh, Papa, it's been my dream ever since you sat me on my very first horse. I can feel it, taste it, savor the sensations of crossing that line. It's one race, Papa. How dangerous can it be?" She gave him an impish grin. "Besides, if I'm half as extraordinary as you claim, maybe I'll win."

"You are extraordinary. But you're also a woman, whether or not you care for the idea. You're also my daughter"-his voice faltered-"all I have left in the world. And I know you, perhaps better than you know yourself. You think running the Derby will satisfy your pa.s.sion, but it'll only feed it, make you want more. It'll whet your appet.i.te, sink into your blood like a heady dose of brandy. And, speaking of brandy, let's not forget that you'll be gallivanting about with a bunch of raucous jockeys who believe you're one of them. You'll also be prancing onto the racing scene at the precise time when those crooked b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who threatened my life are avidly seeking a new target and in hot pursuit of their old one-me. According to what you told me last night, they've gone so far as to threaten Lord Tyreham-at his own home, no less-should he ever consider hiring me."

"Papa," Nicole squeezed his hand, "even if those animals happen to be at Epsom when I run, it won't matter. They'll never realize you and I are related, much less that I'm your daughter. They'll never even suspect I'm a woman. As for their illegal offerings, should they approach me, I'll make it clear from the start that I cannot be bought. And, as the Derby will be my one and only riding event"-she gave her father an I-promise-you look-"they won't receive a second chance to twist my arm."

Nick sighed, his heart weighted by a foresight his daughter had yet to acquire. "Let's put aside the issue of your racing but once," he said lightly. "Apart from all the possible danger, you have one h.e.l.l of a task ahead of you-readying this thoroughbred for the Derby. I needn't tell you that if he's really as skittish as the marquis says, he'll require calming in order to be tacked and mounted, much less raced."

"I know, Papa. And I'll use all the skills you've taught me. I'll make you proud, you'll see."

"I'm already proud, Elf. But I'm also worried. Not about the horse-if anyone can bring him around, it's you-but about the situation." Tension drew grim lines about Nick's mouth, cast shadows of doubt across his face. "You mean the world to me, Nickie."

"As you do to me. I'll prevail, Papa. I promise."

"You'll be alone. Neither Sully nor I will be there to watch over you."

That did it. Feeling her father's pain, his need to simultaneously offer his blessing and withhold it, Nicole knew what she had to do. No, she silently amended, what she chose to do.

All night long she'd tossed and turned in her new bed, grappling with whether or not to tell him the truth: that Dustin knew precisely who-and what-she was. Her instincts had screamed yes. Her father deserved to know. She'd never before kept anything from him, and she so badly wanted to divulge the details of Dustin's kindness, his vow to protect them. It would put her father's mind at ease and, at the same time, somehow validate the unfathomable emotions Dustin evoked inside her.

Yet, her intentions could backfire. Given Dustin's reputation, her father might balk when he learned that the womanizing marquis of Tyreham had realized from the start that his new jockey was female. Worse than balking, he might order her away-from Tyreham, from the Derby ... and from Dustin.

The very thought sp.a.w.ned an unwelcome constriction in Nicole's chest, one that had nothing to do with her binding and everything to do with her emotional and physical attraction to Dustin Kingsley. With great difficulty, and for the umpteenth time, she tried to squelch her fl.u.s.tered uncertainty. Fl.u.s.tered because-after but two kisses-she was already in over her head. Uncertain because, not only was she treading in uncharted waters, she was doing so with a man so devastating, so proficient in his charm, she could scarcely stay afloat.

"Nickie?" Her father was gazing expectantly at her, a myriad of questions in his eyes.

Abruptly, Nicole returned to the here and now, accosted by a cold dose of reality. This was what mattered, her conscience cried out, guilt rearing its ugly head. Her father's safety, their future, her commitment to the weeks ahead. She had no room in her life for a casual dalliance. Especially now. And especially with the man who'd just hired her and now held her fate in his hands.

Once again, reality intruded, refusing to allow such self-deception. Who was she kidding? Nicole thought with a resigned sigh. A casual affair? She? Under any circ.u.mstances? Even with a man as sinfully tempting as Dustin? Never. The prospect was as inconceivable to her as lying or stealing, as unnatural as the corset she'd been forced to wear. Essentially, she was just too honest, too principled.

Too provincial.

And Dustin, warm and intuitive though he might be, was anything but provincial. That she'd deduced instantly, despite her s.e.xual innocence. One didn't need firsthand experience to recognize charisma like Dustin's. It was a tangible ent.i.ty-innate, unmistakable, bone-melting. As was the self-a.s.suredness of his technique. The resulting message was clear: Dustin Kingsley knew women-intimately and often. In contrast, Nicole was a green schoolgirl, one who understood only the kind of fidelity and commitment her parents had shared, and who wasn't equipped to handle the aftermath of Dustin Kingsley.

So, yes, the timing was irreconcilable.

But so were she and Dustin.

Nicole drew a slow, inward breath. There was no choice. She'd have to forget those heart-stopping moments in his arms. They'd been a dream, an illusive taste of forbidden fruit.

She couldn't risk another bite.

"Elf?" By this time Nick sounded alarmed. "What is it? There's something you're not telling me. Is it about those thugs who threatened Tyreham?"

"No, Papa, nothing like that." Nicole raised her chin, determined to give her father the truth, or at least the part that might appease him.

On the other hand, it might explode in her face.

Reflexively, her fingers skimmed her pocket, grazing the comforting outline of her wishing locket.

"I won't be alone," she plunged in. "Even without you or Sully to look after me, I'll be in good hands." Here goes. "Lord Tyreham will see to my safety. He understands what you and I are up against. He's vowed to protect us."

"You've lost me."

"He knows, Papa."

Silence. Then, "Exactly what is it he knows?"