Wishes in the Wind (20 page)

“Evidently, my two visitors came to that same conclusion. To ensure my cooperation, they suggested that should I want Alexander to remain healthy, I avoid Aldridge at all costs. Their warning was unmistakable. As was my response—unmistakable and unfriendly.” Dustin’s mouth set in harsh lines. “I don’t think they’ll come near Alexander. The missive I sent you was simply a precaution.” A swallow of brandy. “That’s all I can tell you.”

One black brow rose. “All you
can
tell me,” Trenton repeated. “An interesting choice of words. Why do I think you’re omitting a great deal?”

“If I am, that omission has nothing to do with my nephew. Further, you can rest assured I’m in the process of terminating those lowlifes’ careers. Permanently.”

An assessing pause. “You know more about Nick Aldridge’s disappearance than you told them, don’t you?”

“According to the papers, he’s recovering nicely.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“But that was my answer.”

Trenton sucked in his breath. “You’re up to your neck in something serious. Let me help you.”

“I can’t. Not this time.” Dustin rolled the goblet between his palms. “I’d be violating a confidence.”

“A confidence? Who the hell worth a damn would ask you to endanger yourself and your family? And to what end? You’re not a bloody investigator.”

That spawned a thought. “No, I’m not. Which gives me an idea.” Dustin tossed back the rest of his drink. “Thanks, Trent. You’ve just helped more than you realize.”

“You’re not going to tell me another damned thing, are you?”

“I’ve told you everything you need to know. You have simply to keep a watchful eye on your family. By the way, where are my beautiful sister-in-law and my rambunctious nephew?”

“At Broddington. We returned from Spraystone this morning. Why do you think it took me so long to get here? I wanted to come the instant I got your note. But Ariana is too insightful. She knows how I savor our visits to Wight. If I’d left the isle abruptly, she would have guessed something was wrong. I don’t want to worry her.”

“Nor should you. She has enough to deal with controlling that eight-month-old tempest of yours. Speaking of which,” Dustin tapped his upper lip. “Did you notice I shaved off my mustache? Your heir will now have to find a new distraction with which to torment me. That should take him, say, ten to fifteen minutes.”

Trenton didn’t smile. “You’re evading the issue. Why? You’re not in the habit of keeping things from me.”

Silence.

“Is it Nick Aldridge you’re protecting?”

“Trent, leave it alone. I can’t say any more than I have. You’ll simply have to trust me.”
Trust me.
Dustin’s own words triggered a reminder of the evening ahead, an evening that was fast approaching. “I hate to be rude, but I have to cut this conversation short.”

“Why? Do you have plans?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Anyone I know?”

“No. At least not yet.” This query Dustin met head-on. “But you will. Soon. The instant it’s remotely possible.”

Slowly, Trenton lowered his glass to the side table. “That sounds serious.”

“It is. Or rather, it will be.”

Surprise registered on Trenton’s face. “When did this happen? You were at Spraystone a week ago, ornery and unattached.”

“That was then. This is now.”

“You became deeply involved with someone in a matter of days?”

“In a manner of minutes,” Dustin corrected. He shot Trenton a pointed look. “As you did with Ariana.”

“That was entirely different.”

“Really? How?”

“Ariana needed help. I needed—her.”

An ironic smile. “The situations are more analogous than even I discerned.”

Trenton inhaled sharply. “Dustin, is this woman the cause of whatever crusade you’re on? Because, if so …”

“Trent, you’re beginning to sound like an overprotective parent. When I’m ready to disclose my secrets, you’re the first one I’ll seek out. Now, go home to Ariana. Stop worrying about your son—and your brother. We’re both Kingsleys. We’ll survive.” His grin widened. “Better than survive, if I have my way.”

“Are you implying …”

“Good night, Trent.”

Throwing up his hands, Trenton complied. “All right, good night.” Reaching for the doorknob, he paused. “You’ll summon me if you need help?”

“When have I ever sought your help with women?”

“Very funny. I meant with the threats and with whatever those threats are dragging you into.”

“I’ll let you know the minute I’m free to discuss it.”

A nod. “Dustin, be careful.”

“I will.”

Glancing back over his shoulder, Trenton regarded his brother with thoughtful understanding. “I can’t wait to meet her. She must be extraordinary.”

A smile curved Dustin’s lips. “She is.”

“A gown?” Nick Aldridge’s mouth fell open. “You’re wearing a bloody gown?”

“Stop making such a fuss, Papa.” Nicole descended the steps, glancing self-consciously down at herself. “Do I look all right?”

The vulnerability in her voice penetrated her father’s surprise. “You look beautiful. More than beautiful. Breathtaking. And not only because of the gown.” He raised her chin. “There’s a glow in your eyes that wasn’t there before. A glow, I assume, caused by Dustin Kingsley.”

Nicole lowered her lashes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. But I wouldn’t worry. He’ll never notice. The man is so smitten with you, he can barely see straight.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so. What I don’t know is what he intends to
do
about his pent-up ardor.” Worry furrowed her father’s brow. “Nickie—”

“Papa, don’t.” She lay her forefinger across his lips, determined to squelch this particular subject before it began—again. The last thing she needed was a reminder of Dustin’s womanizing ways or a lecture on how to ward off his advances.

Especially when her conviction to ward them off dwindled more by the minute.

A knock at the front door spared her further explanation. “Please, Papa,” she soothed, reassuring him as best she could. “Have faith in my judgment.”

“I do. It’s the marquis’s intentions I question.” With that, Nick headed over and—hearing the requisite “It’s Tyreham”—opened the door. “My lord,” he acknowledged.

“Good evening, Aldridge.” Dustin stepped inside, seductive as sin in his dark coat and trousers. “Is Nicole—?” He broke off, staring at Nicole as if she were an apparition.

“My reaction precisely,” Nick commented dryly. He cleared his throat, stepping aside to let Nicole join her escort. “Have a nice stroll.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Nicole murmured. She walked toward Dustin, wondering how any man could be so heartstoppingly handsome. “Good evening, my lord. Shall we go?” When Dustin said nothing, merely continued to stare, she asked, “Are you well?”

“What I am is speechless.”

Nicole felt her lips curve. “Somehow, I doubt that.” She turned to her father. “I’ll be home shortly, Papa.”

“Yes. In an hour,” Nick confirmed. “That’s ten o’clock,” he called after them, posted dutifully at the threshold.

Dustin began to chuckle. “Subtle, isn’t he?” he inquired, taking Nicole’s elbow and leading her away from the cottage.

“No, he’s not.” Nicole lapsed into silence, keenly aware of Dustin’s touch, the proximity of his presence. Her own thoughts were a jumble of activity, her emotions raw and exposed. She’d anticipated tonight with all the giddy apprehension of a woman who knew her life was about to be forever changed by a man, a concept that both elated and terrified her.

She’d grappled with her feelings since yesterday, but it wasn’t until tonight, while performing the uncharacteristic ritual of donning feminine attire, that the true significance of Dustin’s words had found their mark.

Can you honestly tell me you don’t come alive when we’re together? Not only when we touch, but when we talk? When we laugh? Even when we argue? Ah, Derby, we can right life’s wrongs and balance its inequities … together.

No, she couldn’t deny it. Dustin had pervaded her life from the instant they’d met and not only during those brief, wondrous moments when she was in his arms. But along the Thames when they’d talked … on Tyreham’s course when she trained … in this very cottage when he’d supplanted flattery with truth—for her. The affinity between them was rare, irrefutable, and no amount of trepidation could erase it.

It was then that the inevitable realization had struck—spawning those few, life-altering words.

She was in love with Dustin Kingsley.

The very acknowledgment, though unsurprising, heightened her misgivings to immense proportions, because whatever hope she’d had of shielding herself from Dustin’s spell was now gone. The die was cast, the risk taken.

And her heart was no longer hers.

Now it was in the hands of fate.

Reflexively, her fingers went to her throat, brushing the soothing shape of her wishing locket where it hung gracefully—and, for tonight, openly—about her neck.

“You’re very pensive,” Dustin observed as they strolled through the woods.

“Am I?” Nicole blinked, raising her overheated face to the cool night air. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.” Dustin’s midnight gaze roved possessively over her. “You look exquisite. Precisely as you did the night we met.”

“That’s probably because I’m wearing precisely the same gown I wore the night we met,” she replied, her heart drumming against her ribs. “I own only two. This one is a bit more stylish than the other.”

“What made you decide to wear it tonight?”

Nicole averted her gaze. “I suppose I wanted to look like a woman, for once.” The slightest of pauses. “For you.”

“Thank you.” Dustin’s voice was husky. “I’m honored.”

“Where are we going?” she blurted, noting the remoteness of this section of woods, now blocking the tenants’ cottages from view.

“You’ll see.”

Staring at her slippered feet, Nicole contemplated what she should say next, and how in God’s name she could speak past the lump in her throat.

“There.” Dustin paused, pointing. “That’s where we’re going.”

Her head came up, her brows drawing together as curiosity temporarily supplanted anxiety. “A cabin.” She gazed questioningly up at Dustin. “Who lives there?”

“No one. At least not permanently.” Looping an arm about her waist, Dustin urged her forward. “Come. Your father allocated one hour to this walk. I don’t want to waste a moment of it.”

Reaching the door, he eased it open, leading Nicole inside. Rather than lighting a lamp, he crossed over and threw open the wooden shutters, waiting as moonlight drenched the sparsely furnished room. “For you,” he announced, beckoning her over. “A gift I’ve never shared with another. And, in our case, one I believe will mean far more than diamonds or sapphires.”

Nicole walked over to stand beside him, staring, first out at the rapid descent of the trees, then upward to the starlit skies, her view of the heavens unmarred by so much as an oak or a church spire. “How beautiful,” she breathed. “The moon and the stars. Brilliant diamonds cast across a sapphire sea. No jewels could compare.”

“I agree.” Silently, Dustin followed her gaze. “I built this cabin several years ago.”

“
You
built it?”

“Um-hum. My father was an architect—a brilliant one—as is my brother Trenton. I dabbled alongside them. And while I cannot boast their genius, I absorbed enough knowledge to design a structure or two. This one is my favorite, simple though it might be. It’s my own personal sanctuary.”

“From what?” Nicole whispered.

“From the elaborate life you think I value so highly. You know—the lavish balls, the countless women, the frivolous parties.” Moonlight drifted over his magnificently handsome features. “Here there are no balls, no vapid conversations, or meaningless liaisons. There’s just me, my thoughts, and the night.” He turned to her, his expression tender. “And now you.”

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.”