Wishes in the Wind Page 17

  Emotion constricted Nicole’s throat as she savored the full extent of his offering. “I’ve judged you unfairly, haven’t I?” she asked in a small, shaky voice. “There’s so much more to Dustin Kingsley than the marquis of Tyreham.” A breath of a pause. “Tell me about him.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Whatever you’ll share with me.”

  His knuckles caressed her cheek. “I’ll share anything with you, Derby.”

  Nicole felt her insides melt. “Trenton—is he your only brother?”

  “My only sibling. He’s two years my senior.” A twinkle. “The eminent duke of Broddington.”

  “An architect and a duke?”

  “Um-hum. Also a dedicated, faithful husband who’s hopelessly in love with his wife, and one hell of a good father. See? The Kingsleys follow paths of their own making, not those paved by the nobility.”

  Nicole flushed. “I suppose I deserved that.”

  “I meant to enlighten, not hurt, you. I’m demonstrating how little titles mean. Trent’s the same fine man he was eight years ago, when Father died and bequeathed him a dukedom.”

  “And you? From whom did you inherit your title?”

  “I didn’t. It was bestowed upon me by Queen Victoria.”

  “Really?” Nicole leaned forward, fascinated. “When? Why?”

  “About a decade ago. My father was a close friend of Her Majesty and the prince consort. Trenton and I often accompanied Father on his summer visits to Balmoral and Osborne House. During one of our trips to Balmoral, there was an attempt made on the queen’s life. I was in the right place at the right time, and interceded. Her Majesty insisted on rewarding my efforts. She knew how I felt about Tyreham. Father designed this estate with me in mind. Accordingly, she named me the first marquis of Tyreham. End of story.” Dustin studied Nicole’s wide-eyed astonishment, and grinned. “Have I finally impressed you?”

  “You saved the queen’s life?”

  “I gave her a very ungentlemanly shove as she alit from her carriage, then knocked down the culprit who was waving a pistol at her head. The man was clearly insane. He was seized by Her Majesty’s guards and permanently confined to a madhouse.”

  “No wonder she was grateful.”

  “Ironically, she had occasion to be grateful again, only this time not to me but to Trenton. Two years ago he rescued Princess Beatrice from drowning in Osborne Bay.”

  “How did the queen reward him? He was already a duke.”

  A perceptive smile. “She gave him something far more valuable than a title. She gave him Ariana.”

  “His wife?”

  Dustin nodded. “It’s a long story, steeped in a lifetime of vengeance. Suffice it to say that my brother was ostracized for a crime he didn’t commit—one that was orchestrated by a very twisted mind. Trent spent six years plotting his revenge. The man it was aimed at was Ariana’s brother. So, when the queen offered Trent anything for sparing her youngest daughter’s life, he asked for a royal decree commanding Ariana to marry him.”

  “He wed her just to punish her brother?”

  “He thought so.” A grin. “The truth is he fell in love with her the moment they met.”

  Nicole reacted to the obvious affection in Dustin’s tone. “You love them both very much.”

  “I do. And their tyrant of a son, as well.”

  “They have a child?” Nicole’s face lit up. “How old is he?”

  “Eight months, and aging us all fast. His antics are enough to bring the British army to its knees. He crawls faster than I walk, and thinks of more things to destroy than I can count.” Dustin’s voice grew soft. “And I hope I have a houseful just like him some day.”

  Tears welled up in Nicole’s eyes, and it was all she could do not to blurt out that she wanted those children to be hers.

  “Now let’s talk about you.” Dustin changed the subject abruptly.

  “What about me?” she managed.

  “Well, I already know you began riding at the age of two, spoke French fluently by ten, and loathed needlepoint almost as much as you did sketching.”

  Realization made Nicole wince. “Sully,” she muttered. “Lord, what else did he tell you?”

  “Oh, a multitude of things, but he spent most of his time instructing me.”

  “Instructing you? Is that what you meant when you said he was offering advice?”

  “Indeed. He wanted to be certain I realized how special you are, how well you should be treated. He grilled me thoroughly on my feelings for you and my intentions with regard to your future. The whole conversation was very enlightening.”

  Nicole wanted to drop through the floor—almost as much as she wanted to know what Dustin’s answers to Sully had been.

  “Then again, that’s how I knew to bring you here,” Dustin added, lifting her chin with his forefinger. “Sullivan told me how much you love stargazing. Stargazing and twilight.” He caressed her cheek. “Next time we’ll share twilight, but tonight I wanted you to see where I do my stargazing. I hoped you’d savor it as much as I do.” His gaze fell to her mouth. “Tell me, Derby, is that what you were doing the night we met? Sitting along the Thames and stargazing?”

  “Star wishing,” Nicole breathed. She brought up her hand, fingers enveloping the locket that dangled about her throat. Solemnly, she held it out for Dustin to see.

  “It’s lovely,” he murmured, leaning forward to inspect the delicate piece of silver.

  “My mother gave it to me when I was five. According to her, it’s a wishing locket.”

  “Is it?” Rather than amused, Dustin looked intrigued. “In what way?”

  “Mama had a wondrous, fanciful mind. She believed that all the wishes I ever made would be stored inside this locket. After which, fate would decide when to make each wish a reality.”

  “What a remarkable thought.” Dustin touched the clasp but made no move to open it. “Your mother sounds like an extraordinary woman.”

  “She was.” Nicole’s voice quavered. “That’s who I was thinking of when you came upon me that night along the Thames. She gave me so much, and I miss her every day.”

  Dustin’s fingers sifted through Nicole’s hair, caressed her nape in warm, comforting strokes. “How long has she been gone?”

  “Seven years.” A sigh. “When you were describing Ariana’s effect on Trenton, I couldn’t help but think of Mama’s effect on Papa. The way he tells it, he never did much wishing before she came into his life. Racing was his only passion and his only dream. He says Mama was his own priceless miracle.” Teardrops glistened on Nicole’s lashes. “I suppose once you’ve been given a miracle, it’s far easier to believe they exist.”

  “That’s true,” Dustin concurred softly. “I’m discovering as much myself. Right here, right now.”

  Their gazes locked.

  “My beautiful miracle.” Dustin drew her against him, his muscles taut with emotion. “Let me hold you. Let me feel you in my arms.” He covered her mouth with his. “God, how could anything be more right?”

  Nothing could, Nicole thought silently, entwining her arms about his neck. She leaned into him, meeting his kiss with her own, parting her lips in silent invitation. Apprehension vanished, reservations scattered like leaves in the wind. At that instant, Dustin ceased to be a nobleman and she a commoner. He was a man, and for the first time in her life, Nicole felt very much a woman.

  Whispering Dustin’s name, she pressed closer, immersing herself deeper in his sensual spell. She shivered as his tongue possessed her mouth, swept her into a world of heady sensation and drugged desire. He lifted her off the floor, molded her body to his, and devoured her with a passion that was as tangible as it was consuming.

  “Nicole …” He raised his head, his breath coming as hard and fast as hers, his magnificent eyes smoky with desire—a desire rooted in something far more profound than lust. His lips traced her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the pulse at her throat. When he seized her mouth
again, there was a new urgency in his kiss, one he tried valiantly to control, but which Nicole felt nonetheless.

  “Dustin, I want this,” she breathed fervently. “I …” She struggled to form a coherent sentence. “I’m not afraid.”

  A harsh groan ripped from his chest, and he dragged his mouth away, shaking his head. “Nicole, this is not what I had planned. I didn’t bring you here to seduce you.”

  “We’re only kissing. You’re not seducing me.”

  “Aren’t I?” He set her feet on the floor, his expression stark with self-censure. “I want you so much I can’t think. And, despite my best intentions, I seem to be using every technique I know to make you want me just as much.”

  “Is this wanting?” Nicole murmured, light-headed with sensation. “It feels wonderful.” She drew his mouth back down to hers.

  “Nicole, listen to me.” Dustin buried his hands in her hair, tugged her head back to meet his gaze. “I meant what I said yesterday. I want more than tonight, more than this. I want you. All of you. Today. Tomorrow … and after.”

  “So do I,” she said dreamily. “But right now I want to savor the dizziness that besieges me when you hold me, the ache I feel when we kiss.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Is that wrong?”

  “No, darling, it’s not wrong. It’s very, very right.”

  “When we touch, it’s like there’s a tiny flame inside me that flares higher with each passing moment. Is that a result of the technique you just described?”

  An agonized sound. “God, I hope not.” Instinctively, he bent to resume the kiss, then checked himself.

  Nicole caressed his nape, realizing in some distant part of her mind that he was trying to protect her, flagrantly aware that at this precise minute, she wanted no part of that protection. Her fingers crept around to his jaw, caressed the warmth of his skin, feathered down his neck.

  Dustin’s muscles went rigid.

  “Stop.” He captured her hand, his own shaking violently.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m at the bloody edge of my control.” His expression was a combination of wonder and amazement. “And you’ve barely even touched me.” He kissed her palm, hesitated, then moved to her wrist, the inside of her forearm—waging an internal battle Nicole could actually feel. “You’re so perfect,” he muttered, capturing her other arm and repeating his caresses. “Soft. Warm. Intoxicating.” He pulled her against him. “I can almost feel you under me.” He buried his lips in hers.

  Desire slammed through Nicole along with a loud, unheeded warning. “Dustin.” She breathed his name, wrapping her arms about his neck. “Don’t stop—not yet.”

  He tore his mouth away, but only to burn a blazing trail of kisses down her throat, the upper swell of her breasts. He descended further, his open mouth tracing the edge of her bodice. “The timing’s all wrong,” he rasped. “I have to bring you home.”

  “Just a few minutes then.” Her hands slid beneath his coat, uncertain what to do, unwilling to forego doing it. “Show me,” she breathed. “Please.”

  Something inside Dustin seemed to snap.

  With relentless purpose, his fingers swept down the front of her gown, dispensing with the buttons in a few lightning-quick seconds, tugging the sides apart. He anchored one arm about her waist, leaning her backwards to give him greater access to her heated skin.

  “Oh … God.” Nicole’s knees buckled when his lips surrounded her nipple, tugging it through the confines of her chemise. Flames shot through her, liquid fire pooling at her loins, and she scarcely heard Dustin’s hoarse groan over her own whimper of pleasure.

  But she felt him, oh, she felt him. Touching her, caressing her—his solid strength taking her weight, keeping her from collapsing to the floor. Trembling as violently as she, he shoved her bodice down to her waist and pushed aside her chemise, eliminating a portion of the intolerable barrier that separated them.

  His greedy eyes devoured her.

  “You’re beautiful.” He caressed her breast as if it were a priceless treasure, sending shards of pleasure shooting through her. “How could you bind down such beauty?”

  Nicole’s answer was a moan, as Dustin bent and claimed her with his mouth.

  Had she thought his caress devastating before? If so, then now, without even a thin scrap of material between them, it was unendurable.

  She cried out as his lips enveloped her nipple in velvet heat, tugged it into the damp haven of his mouth. Shrugging out of his coat, he paused only to cast it to the floor before lowering her onto it, following her down. Half covering her with himself, he bent to her other breast, laved it with his tongue.

  And seared his mark on her soul.

  As if from faraway, Nicole saw herself reach between them, unbuttoning his shirt and waistcoat, shoving the sides apart. Her palms glided over the hair-roughened surface of his chest to the broad width of his shoulders. “Let me feel your skin against mine,” she managed.

  Dustin complied, lowering his torso to hers.

  The first contact was electrifying.

  Dustin threw back his head, emitting a harsh growl of. excruciating pleasure. “Derby … I …” He moved against her, dragging his chest across her nipples, shifting her legs so he lay between them, nestled in the cradle of her thighs. He seized her mouth, cupping the back of her head to fuse their lips more totally, his thumb tracing erotic circles on her breast.

  Nicole whimpered, stroking the taut planes of his back, her lower body lifting instinctively to bring him closer. Dustin’s body answered, thrusting forward, pressing deep, deep into the warm cavern he sought. His hips began a reflexive rhythm, nudging her thighs farther apart, driving him against her core with an agonizing motion thwarted only by their remaining layers of clothing.

  Hot jolts of sensation coursed through Nicole, coiling low in her abdomen, pooling in liquid heat at the very spot where Dustin’s hard ridge of flesh teased. Desperately, she sought more of the friction, matching his rhythm, arching each time he thrust, oblivious to everything but the need to ease the throbbing ache that only intensified with each frustrating roll of her hips.

  “Nicole, don’t. Ah, God … sweetheart …” Wildly, Dustin shook his head; his hands, in the process of shifting to his trouser buttons, halting, balling into fists on either side of her, fists that shoved him away even as his hips urged him forward.

  “No.” Nicole caught his forearms, totally beyond rational thought as she tried to stay his retreat. “Oh, Dustin, if you stop … I can’t bear it.”

  “Nor can I.” Sweat dampened his brow, his entire body quaking with unsquelched urgency. “But I have to stop. Derby, I’m going to shatter. I’m going to tear off your gown and take you right here, right now, and damn the consequences.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Yes you do. And so do I.”

  Dustin’s words were a sobering douse of reality, and Nicole fell silent, blinking bewilderedly up at him.

  “My God, Nicole.” He gazed deeply into her eyes. “Have you any idea what you do to me? What you reduce me to?”

  “What?” she whispered, torn between unfulfilled need and the rush of shame beginning to claim her.

  “This.” He indicated their position, half naked and entwined on a wooden floor, and shook his head in awed amazement. “This is what you do to me. I’m frantic. So crazed to have you I’m ready to erupt. I planned nothing more than to taste your mouth, and I’ve all but taken you on the bloody cabin floor. No wine, no flowers, no soft words.” A self-deprecating pause. “The accomplished lover you fear is no more. He vanished the instant I took you in my arms.”

  Those words went straight to Nicole’s heart, holding her humiliation at bay. “That is the loveliest compliment you could ever pay me.”

  “It’s no compliment,” he replied solemnly, kissing the hollow between her breasts. “It’s truth.”

  She shivered. “I still ache,” she confessed in a tiny voice.

  “My beautiful, honest
Nicole.” With the greatest of efforts, Dustin left her, rising to his knees and tugging her clothes into place. “I ache, too.”

  Watching his fingers refasten her gown, Nicole blushed crimson, reality descending in a great, rushing wave. “I look like a wanton.”

  Dustin seized her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t ever say that,” he commanded fiercely. “Don’t even think it. A wanton? You’re a total innocent. What happened here was my doing, not yours.”

  Her smile was soft, starting deep within. “Thank you for your gallant attempt to spare my sensibilities. But I seem to recall participating quite fully in our … our …” Again she blushed.

  “Lovemaking,” he finished for her. “Call it lovemaking, Nicole, because with us, that’s all it ever could be.” His grip eased, his fingers shifting to caress her cheek. “Shame has no place between us. Neither does regret.” He started to say more, then decided against it.

  “Every time I think I’ve adjusted to these feelings you inspire, you incite new ones,” Nicole admitted. “I’m constantly flailing about in uncharted waters … and drowning.”

  Dustin gathered her against him, his lips buried in her hair. “You might not believe this, Derby, but I feel exactly the same way. What’s happening between us is astounding.” His voice grew husky. “A miracle.”

  Nicole squeezed her eyes shut, moved beyond words by his implicit meaning, equally terrified by the enormity of what lay ahead—an enormity that was suddenly too great to bear.

  Once the threats to her father were resolved, she’d no longer be able to hide behind the myth of Alden Stoddard, no longer be able to hold the future at bay. Presumably, she’d resume her life as Nicole Aldridge—leave Tyreham, the turf, and Dustin.

  Unless she chose otherwise.

  She knew, without question, that Dustin would expect some sort of decision from her with regard to their relationship. He’d stated over and over that he wanted her in his life, although in what capacity, she wasn’t sure. But whatever her role, he certainly wouldn’t settle for broken, isolated moments of privacy such as these. Neither, for that matter, would she.