Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

He was in trouble. Deep trouble.

Pouring himself a drink, Dustin stared out the bay window, oblivious to Tyreham’s magnificent wooded acres. Instead all he saw was Nicole, sitting straight-backed in the saddle, as natural astride Dagger as if she’d been born there. She’d handled herself and Dagger with all the finesse of a seasoned jockey, not a novice. Novice? Hell, his last three jockeys, each boasting a decade of experience, would have benefitted greatly from her instruction, she was that good. His practiced eye had seen Nick Aldridge’s influence in every facet of her performance: stature, technique, fluidity, coordination. Even her judgment when it came to assessing a horse’s limitations. She was indeed her father’s daughter, reflecting every iota of Aldridge’s intuitive skill in the tactics she’d taken with Dagger. In less than an hour, she’d transformed him from an unapproachable tempest to the champion he was meant to be.

She was superb.

But, contrary to Nicole’s misgivings, that wasn’t the cause of Dustin’s inner turmoil.

His lips curved into a mirthless smile. Nicole had accused him of undervaluing her abilities because she was a woman.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

Not only did he recognize her exceptional talent, he had no trouble accepting and heralding her as the best damned rider he’d ever seen. In truth, he’d be willing to bet more than his reputation; he’d bet his entire fortune and his whole line of thoroughbreds that she’d win the bloody Derby.

Further, he wouldn’t deprive her of that victory for anything on earth.

Thus, her concerns were unfounded. Between her skill and his resolve, he’d easily convince the entire racing world that Nicole was Alden Stoddard.

But deluding the public was one thing. Deluding himself was quite another.

This brought Dustin to his true quandary, the reality of which had struck him, full force, as he watched Nicole complete Tyreham’s course, her face flushed with the thrill of victory.

He could herald her as a jockey, but he could never—not even for the shortest of durations—view her as a man.

Biding his time had suddenly become an untenable option.

Tossing off his drink, Dustin stared broodingly into the empty goblet.

He’d expected Nicole’s masquerade to present difficulties; but never had he anticipated his feelings for her to be so powerful that he’d be unable to squelch them, even for a day. Yet, that’s precisely what was happening. Just now, seeing those amethyst eyes alight with triumph, her half-hidden face so spontaneously beautiful—jockey cap or not—his conscience and determination had waged major battle with his instincts. Ultimately, he’d needed every ounce of self-control not to haul her off Dagger’s back and into his arms, to feel her joy and hail her accomplishment as the wondrous feat it was.

To seal their elation in a dance as old as time.

All of which characterized the very avenue he’d promised Nicole he wouldn’t pursue.

So where the hell did that leave him? He couldn’t elude his feelings, nor could he act upon them. At least not until Nicole made the next move—an unlikely possibility, to say the least. Even under the best of circumstances, a sexual overture would be as foreign to Nicole as the donning of a corset. And now? Given that she spent every waking moment disguised as a man, coupled with the fact that the rare visits she’d agreed to allow him would occur in her cottage under her father’s watchful eye?

The prospects were less than grim.

And Dustin’s time was short.

Because once the culprits who’d threatened Nick Aldridge had been unearthed, the cause for Nicole’s disguise would be eliminated. At which point, there was every likelihood that she would vanish from Dustin’s life as swiftly as she’d materialized, and not only for propriety’s sake, for her own sake as well. Dustin could feel her confusion as palpably as he could her awakening. She was overwhelmed by the intensity of what hovered between them. Hell, so was he. But Nicole was young, inexperienced. Headstrong. Her misgivings would win out over her newfound emotion and drive her away.

It was up to him to get through to her first.

r /> But how?

With a muttered oath, Dustin refilled his glass, silently berating himself for erecting his own insurmountable barriers. In attempting to put Nicole at ease, he’d succeeded in digging his own proverbial grave. Think, he commanded himself, lowering the bottle of madeira. There had to be a way. A way to keep his promises to Nicole without letting the miracle of what was between them slip through his fingers. A way to maximize their time together; to get her alone without jeopardizing her disguise.

There was.

Dustin’s head came up, determination pulsing through his veins. The plan he’d just conjured up involved taking a hell of a risk, one that could backfire and wrench Nicole from his grasp forever. On the other hand, it could be just the answer he sought—his only answer.

It was a risk he had to take.

Abandoning his drink, Dustin once again consulted his timepiece, his mind racing ahead. He’d conclude his morning interview posthaste, especially since his final decision was virtually made. Both trainers vying for the position at Tyreham’s stables had flawless records and came with glowing recommendations. But Raggert, the candidate who was returning to Tyreham today, had been referred to Dustin by the earl of Lanston, a colleague whose instincts were second only to his own. Lanston had sung Raggert’s praises to the skies—a fact that weighed heavily on the fellow’s behalf. So, if Raggert were amenable, Banks’s job would finally be filled, and Dustin’s attention could return where it belonged.

To the Derby.

And Nicole.