Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

It seemed to go on forever, this pinnacle of sensation, crashing and crashing like great untamed waves. Then, the waves subsided slowly, gradually, the aftermath drifting about them in dizzying clouds of fulfillment.

Awareness came gradually, in minimal degrees, contentment supplanting urgency as they lay together, still joined, gasping for breath, shaking with reaction.

Nicole began to cry, tears stealing from beneath her lids, trickling down her cheeks onto Dustin’s shoulders.

He rolled to one side, staying inside her, reaching for his discarded coat and wrapping it about them. “Don’t cry, darling,” he murmured, stroking her back. “Please don’t cry.”

That only made her weep harder.

“Nicole.” He took her face between his palms, thumbs capturing her tears as he gazed deeply into her eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen—not here, not now. But my feelings for you …” He drew a shuddering breath. “Did I hurt you? Is that why you’re crying?”

She shook her head.

“Then what is it? Regret? Shame? Because those reasons I could not, would not abide. What just happened between us was nothing short of a miracle, and miracles occur at their will, not ours.”

“It’s neither regret nor shame,” she choked out. “I wanted this every bit as much as you did. I just never expected to feel so … so shattered.” She looked up at him, bewildered and raw and achingly vulnerable. “Oh, Dustin, if I were terrified before, I’m panic-stricken now.”

His expression softened, enveloped her in warmth. “And if I were sure before, I’m surer now.”

“When you’re with other women …” She swallowed. “Is it always like this?”

“Never. It’s never like this.” Tenderly, he kissed her. “Perhaps that’s because I’ve never made love before tonight.”

God, how she wanted to believe that his love alone could make everything right. “Tell me again that you’ll overcome all the obstacles,” she whispered.

“Every last one. Derby, tell me your fears, and I’ll obliterate them.”

“No.” Nicole reached up, pressed her fingers to his lips. “Please, I’m not ready for this conversation—not tonight. Just give me the words.”

He gathered her close. “The future is ours, Nicole. I promise you.”

She grasped on to his pledge, closing her eyes and willing it to be so.

But in her heart she knew that just as twilight must descend to dusk, wishes must give way to reality.

“Two minutes forty-six seconds.” Brackley snapped his timepiece shut with a flourish. “That was last year’s winning time exactly.”

“It was indeed,” Dustin concurred, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Nicole bring Dagger around.

“You’re not pleased?” Brackley shot his employer a puzzled look. “I know Stoddard’s last run was six seconds faster, but Tyreham’s course is shorter, not to mention more familiar. Considering this was his initial run at Epsom, two minutes forty-six seconds is good, my lord.”

“It’s better than good. It’s excellent.” Dustin’s gaze was still fixed on Nicole. “However, bear in mind that it was achieved under unnaturally optimum conditions—good weather, no other horses to contend with, none of the pressure that will accompany the actual race. We need to provide a little authenticity to refine Stoddard’s skills.” He turned to Brackley. “Next session, bring Winning Streak. I’ll ride her, simulate a two-contender race with Stoddard, and maybe throw a challenge or two his way.”

Brackley heaved a sigh of relief. “For a minute I thought you meant to suggest Raggert for the job. I’m relieved you mean to do it yourself. Raggert and Stoddard don’t exactly get along.”

“No, they don’t.” Dustin shot Brackley a quizzical look. “What do you think of Raggert?”

A shrug. “He’s all right, I guess. Does his job. Although, while you were at Newmarket, he spent hours and hours overseeing Stoddard. He seems to think the boy will take advantage if left to his own devices. I disagree. I’ve never seen a more devoted jockey.”

“Did you mention that fact to Raggert?”

“Of course. But he insisted that with you away, it was his responsibility to make sure Stoddard was exercising Dagger right, riding him as often, but not more often, than he should. I stopped interfering. After all, it’s not my place to tell a trainer what to do.” Glancing in Stoddard’s direction, Brackley frowned. “Did you mean to return with Winning Streak this afternoon, sir? Because if you don’t mind my saying so, I think we should wait a day. Stoddard’s not himself this morning. He’s awfully pale, and he’s got circles under his eyes. My guess is that with the Derby looming closer, he’s starting to feel the strain. He’s not the type to talk about his worries, he keeps them to himself. But I do think he’s getting scared.”

A stab of guilt accosted Dustin as the ironic truth of Brackley’s statement struck home. “I couldn’t agree more.” Purposefully, he straightened, surveying the area just beyond the winning post where Nicole was cooling Dagger down. “Alert Saxon to ready the carriage. I’ll advise Stoddard that we’re heading back to Tyreham.”

“Of course, sir.” Brackley hastened off.

Dustin walked toward Nicole, thinking about the true reasons for her unsettled state, wishing he knew what to say, how to reach her. She’d been quiet and distant all morning, avoiding his gaze, not speaking to him unless it was necessary. Further, Brackley’s observation of her depleted state was accurate. She was pale, with deep circles etched under her violet eyes. Obviously, she hadn’t slept a wink. But, unlike Brackley, Dustin knew precisely why.