Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

For the umpteenth time he berated himself for letting last night ensue without the preparation, the prelude, the formalized commitment he’d intended to elicit before joining his body to hers. He’d never believed himself capable of such a total and utter loss of control. But when she’d looked up at him with those smoky amethyst eyes, caressed him with those innocent, coaxing fingertips … Even now, he shuddered, just remembering.

Nonetheless, he should have resisted, knowing bloody well what the consequences would be. Last night had been devastating, overwhelming, and—to use Nicole’s own description—shattering. Afterward had been the time for hushed words, all-night caresses, discussions of the future—their future. Oh, he’d made an attempt, but she hadn’t been ready. It was too soon, her mind still dazed from the intensity of their union, her body still trembling as it struggled to recover. If only he could have held her longer, reassured her until her tremors had subsided and her mind had cleared. Then he would have enumerated the details he’d worked out to resolve their future, erased her fears, one by one, until she’d been as sure as he that they belonged together. But time was the one thing he hadn’t had—not when they’d already been away from the cottage for hours. So what had he done? Helped her dress, brought her home, and left her to her thoughts … and her uncertainty.

And to a woman like Nicole, who couldn’t give half measure, the only way to combat emotional uncertainty was with a wall of self-protection, a tangible barrier between them.

Given that reality, how the hell could Tyreham and Stoddard resume their casual rapport as employer and jockey?

“Hello, Derby.” Dustin reached the object of his quest, falling into step alongside her and Dagger. “Nice run. Excellent pacing.”

“But only adequate timing,” she supplied, staring straight ahead.

“Two

minutes, forty-six seconds. I’d say that’s significantly better than adequate.”

“Better but not good enough.” Her brows knit, and she shifted a bit in the saddle. “I’ll run the trial again later today. Perhaps by then my … concentration will improve.”

“Your concentration was perfect,” Dustin corrected. “You’re just exhausted. And you won’t run the trial again today. You’ll run it tomorrow. With me as your competition, incidentally. That way we can work on your maneuvers as well as your concentration and pacing. As for today, we’re going back to Tyreham. You’re to do nothing but rest.”

In response to his proclamation, Nicole’s shoulders sagged with relief.

Dustin caught Dagger’s reins in an inconspicuous manner, gently bringing Nicole around to face him. “Are you all right?”

She lowered her gaze, staring at the saddle and not pretending to misunderstand. “Yes. Just tired and—” She broke off, a flush staining her cheeks. Again she shifted, this time with a flinch.

Dustin tensed, a new worry intruding. “Are you hurt? Did you injure yourself?”

Her flush deepened. “No.” A spasm of pain crossed her face. “May I dismount now?”

Realization struck Dustin with all the force of a tidal wave.

“Damn.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I never thought … it didn’t occur to me that … Derby, I’m such a bloody fool.” He helped her dismount, silently castigating himself for his utter stupidity. He’d been so busy worrying about her emotional state, he’d completely overlooked her physical one. The way he’d taken her last night, with a bottomless craving he couldn’t plunge deep enough to assuage, it was a wonder she could walk, much less ride. It had been her first time. And not only had she been a virgin, she’d been so small, so tight. What she needed today was to soak in a warm bath, not to gallop across Epsom Downs.

Had he lost his bloody mind?

“Derby …” He gazed down at her, seeing the discomfort on her face and loathing himself for causing it. “I’m sorry.”

She reacted instantly to his self-censuring tone, a brief, reminiscent smile touching her lips. “Don’t be. I’m not. As for the soreness, I’m sure it will be gone by tomorrow.” Selfconsciously, she glanced about. “Where’s Brackley?”

“With my driver. Advising him that we’re preparing to leave.”

“What explanation did you give him?”

“None. It was his suggestion that you forego riding until tomorrow. He saw how exhausted you are. By now I’m sure he’s also noticed the three touts that are combing the stands, scribbling down the incredible speed at which you just took the course, waiting to besiege you with questions. Derby, we can’t leave things this way,” he inserted abruptly. “We have to talk. Not now, obviously. And not later today, because I want you to have a warm bath and go to bed, but soon. Tomorrow. Before you’ve had too much time alone—time in which you’ll doubtless convince that stubborn mind of yours to believe in truths that are, in fact, utter falsehoods.”

Nicole absorbed his speech, understanding flashing in her eyes. “Very well, my lord. I’ll have that bath and a good night’s sleep, then early tomorrow morning, you may speak to me as kindly and convincingly as you know how. But be advised that no amount of persuasion will soften me into taking it easy with you. Should you presume to race alongside me at Epsom tomorrow, I shall beat you by at least five lengths.”

Dustin blinked at the unexpected change in tenor. Then a surge of love rushed through him at the humbling realization that by resorting to spontaneous banter, Nicole was trying to console him. “Is that so?” he asked huskily.

“It is, indeed, not only so but a promise.” She paused, holding his gaze. “And like you, Lord Tyreham, I never make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

“The duke and duchess of Broddington are here to see you, sir,” Poole announced from the study doorway. Dustin’s head came up. “Here? It’s nearly midnight” He was on his feet, striding toward the doorway. “Is Alexander …?”

“The young marquis is well and with his parents,” Poole was quick to answer. “But His Grace is quite upset, as is the duchess. They wish to see you at once. Shall I send them in?”

“Of course. And have their rooms made up. It’s much too late for them to travel back to Broddington tonight.”

“That’s already taken care of, sir. Mrs. Ladley is making up the rooms herself.”