Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

“Many reasons. Some of which I supplied on the river walk, when I explained why I was out walking alone rather than immersing myself in the season’s balls. One of which I supplied a moment ago when I admitted how seldom I’ve employed honesty in my dealings with women. And others of which I can’t supply at all, for they’re beyond my comprehension.” He frowned. “Do you know I can’t recall the last time I shared a meaningful conversation? Offered something more profound than a practiced compliment or a senseless nicety? Not just with women but with anyone, save Trent and Ariana. Yet with you—” He shook his head in amazement. “You remind me there’s more. Even after three fleeting chats. I can’t explain it any better than that, for I’m not sure I fully understand it myself.”

“Who is Ariana?”

Dustin started. He’d become so absorbed in his explanation, he’d nearly lost track of what he’d said. “What?”

“Ariana,” Nicole repeated cautiously. “Is she a … friend?”

There was no mistaking it. Nicole was bothered by the possibility.

Abruptly, Dustin wanted to whoop with joy. “Y

es, Derby, she’s a friend. But not in the way you mean. She’s my sister-in-law, married to my brother Trenton.”

“Oh.” Relief, vivid as the dismay that had preceded it, flashed across her face.

“She’s a very special young woman. We became friends the instant we met—the very day she married Trent. If there’s such a thing as a marriage made in heaven, they have it.”

“I see.” Nicole looked puzzled. “Is she dishonest?”

He blinked. “No. She’s remarkably sincere.”

“Then why do you assume she’s unique?”

“Because I’ve known quite a few women. And, believe me, I know of what I speak.”

Nicole chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, then. For so sophisticated a man, you’ve had very limited experiences with women. I’ve been fortunate. In my case, just the opposite is true. Despite my narrow circle of acquaintances, I’ve always found men to be engaging companions, unpretentious in both discussion and recreation.”

Rage. Dustin nearly jolted at its unfamiliar intensity. More staggering still was its cause: jealousy. Fierce, undiluted jealousy. He wanted to choke the life out of every nameless, faceless bastard who’d come near her. “What men?”

“Pardon me?”

“What men? And what recreation?”

Stunned comprehension dawned. “The kind one partakes in outside the bedchamber,” Nicole retorted, her chin set in that mutinous way Dustin was coming to recognize. “With men who have assets more meaningful than a betting book of wagers on who their next paramour will be.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Bear in mind, my lord, that unlike you, I haven’t spent the better part of my life between the bedsheets. I grew up in the stables, amid fine men like Papa, Sully, and all the other jockeys and trainers I’ve been fortunate enough to know. And, before your eyes once again darken to that fierce shade of blue-black, I mean ‘know’ in the fellowship sense, not the biblical one.”

Dustin’s lips twitched. “I’m glad,” he said without a shred of remorse. “Because, despite the fact that I’m not a violent man, I felt suddenly compelled to kill each and every male who’s ever so much as touched you.”

“Once again, I appreciate your concern for my welfare. Although this time that concern was most unnecessary. To be blunt, the only male who’s ever touched me, as you put it, is you.”

Abruptly, the world looked brighter.

“Good. I intend to keep it that way.” He glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Dagger is back, having either received his exercise or provided Brackley with his. Before I take you out there and perform the introductions, may I have Nicole’s answer?”

She was frowning, evidently still pondering the undue severity of his reaction. Hell, he didn’t blame her. He’d been equally astonished himself.

“Dust …Lord Tyreham.” She searched his face. “You and I are worlds apart.”

“That, Derby, is not an answer.”

Another pause. “You did agree that I would race Dagger, no matter what my answer might be?”

“Only if Dagger agrees.”

“He will.”

A chuckle. “Then, yes. You’ll race Dagger. Regardless of your decision. You have my word.”

“All right.” Nicole sighed, looking eager and reluctant all at once. “Four o’clock. At the cottage. Come for tea.” An impish twinkle. “By the way, I’d suggest you eat beforehand. I have it on the best authority that my scones are more lethal than bullets. As for attire, you’ll have to endure my wearing breeches. And not only to avoid discovery. As I explained—”