Wishes in the Wind (28 page)

“I’ve already forgotten,” she admitted breathlessly. “But that comes as no surprise to you, does it?”

In answer, Dustin drew away, framing her hot face between his palms. “You have the mistaken notion that I’ve traveled this road before. I haven’t. Ever. With anyone. What I’m feeling now is as new to me as it is to you and equally as precious. If you believe nothing else, believe that, because I’m not leaving this cottage until you tell me you do.”

A dreamy smile touched Nicole’s lips. “Then perhaps I’ll alter my original decision to say I believe you. In that way, I can delay your good-byes indefinitely.”

With a groan, Dustin lowered his head again, kissing her until the very earth seemed to move. “Once I have you, there will be no good-byes,” he breathed into her lips. “I’m going to stay inside you, fill you until we’re one, pour my soul into yours until neither of us is ever empty again.”

“For how long?” Even as the question tumbled out, her amethyst eyes widened with dismay, clearly conveying her desperate wish to recall it.

“Forever.” The need was too great, the words emerging with a will all their own. “Nicole, don’t you understand? I love you.”

The declaration hovered, then sank in, feeling more right than even Dustin had imagined.

Nicole’s lips trembled, and two tears trickled down her cheeks.

Irrational fear tightened Dustin’s chest, and his arms locked about her, staying any chance of flight. “Sweetheart, don’t be frightened. And for God’s sake, don’t pull away. You don’t have to answer. You don’t have to say a bloody thing. I promised you time, and I intend to give it to you. Please darling, don’t cry.”

“I won’t pull away. I can’t help crying. And frightened? I’m more than frightened. I’m terrified.”

“Why? Because I love you?”

“No,” she replied, her slender body quivering with emotion. “That alone wouldn’t terrify me. The reason I’m terrified is because I love you, too.”

N
EWMARKET WAS BUSTLING WITH
activity, much as Dustin had expected. With the second spring meeting commencing the next day, thoroughbreds were beginning to arrive, both from the nearby stables and from afar by rail, and anxious owners were muttering to trainers who, in turn, were issuing last-minute instructions to their head lads.

“Shall I accompany you, my lord?” Saxon inquired quietly as Dustin alit from the carriage.

“That won’t be necessary, no. I have yet to delve deep enough to frighten whoever’s at the helm of all this into ordering his hoodlums to stifle me. However, my
open
and intensive grilling of his conspiring jockeys should change that.” Dustin’s gaze swept the small crowd of people. “Even then, I doubt those bastards would be stupid enough to accost me in the center of Newmarket.”

“Hardly, sir. Still, I won’t venture far. Just in the event you need me.”

“I appreciate that, Saxon.” Dustin withdrew his timepiece and glanced at it. “I’ll meander through the paddock and see who’s about. Then, I’ll pay a visit to the Jockey Club and finalize the details for my entries at Epsom. I don’t expect to learn too much today. Many of the jockeys are still arriving. Still, it’s a start. Tomorrow will be even more productive.”

“Yes, sir.”

With the impersonal nod one would give one’s driver, Dustin strode off, making his way to the front of the stands along the Rowley Mile Course. Casually, he surveyed the thoroughbreds, sizing up their potential out of sheer force of habit.

“Tyreham.”

A familiar voice brought him around, and Dustin turned to see a tall, impeccably dressed gentleman approach.

“Lanston,” Dustin greeted his friend, “good to see you.”

“And you.” The earl reached his side. “I thought you were ensconced at Tyreham with the trainer I wish I’d never given away—least of all to you.”

Dustin chuckled. “I was and I am. But I had business in Suffolk and couldn’t resist assessing things at Newmarket.”

“Are you entered in this meeting?”

“No. As you just pointed out, I’m preoccupied with getting things in order at Tyreham. So I withdrew all those entries I’d scheduled for the upcoming fortnight from this meeting at Newmarket straight through the Knowlet Stakes at Manchester.”

“Why? Because you wouldn’t win?” Lanston raised an amused brow.

“No, because I never do things by half measures, as you well know.”

“Well, take heart. You wouldn’t have won anyway, at least not at Newmarket. I’ve entered three of my prize mounts in the Two-Year-Old Plate, the Maiden Plate, and the Rous Stakes, respectively. I intend to sweep all three races.”

“Excellent. I wish you the best of luck. May you do precisely as you proclaim.”

Surprise flickered across Lanston’s patrician features. “It’s not like you to be so magnanimous, Dustin. Especially when I know bloody well that your plans for the remainder of the racing year hinged on retaining Nick Aldridge, who’s injured and out of the country indefinitely.”

“True. Well then, I suppose I’m far more charitable then even I realized.”

“Hah.” The earl’s pale eyes glinted. “More likely, your good nature spawns from the rumors I’ve been hearing about your anonymous Derby contender.”

Dustin’s expression was the epitome of innocence. “Anonymous? Really, Edmund. You, of all people, know who I’m entering. You sold Dagger to me.”

“I wasn’t talking about the stallion, although Lord alone knows how you expect that maniacal demon to take the Derby. I was referring to your new jockey—Stoddard, I hear his name is.”

“You hear correctly. And, if I might be so bold as to offer some advice, I’d suggest that should you be entered in the Derby—withdraw. You’ll only lose.”

“That sure, are you?” Lanston inquired idly, brushing an imaginary speck off his sleeve. “I’m impressed. Tell me about this fellow.”

“No.”

Lanston started. “What?”

A broad grin. “You heard me. I’m not going to reveal one bloody detail about Stoddard, other than what’s listed in the sheet calendar. You’ll simply have to wait and see for yourself.”

“Surely your strategic silence doesn’t apply to your friends?”

“It applies to everyone. Stoddard is new at this, as you’re aware, and I don’t want anyone upsetting him or breaking his concentration. Not a tout, a backer, even a close friend who, despite our long-standing association, also happens to be a competitor. No, Lanston, this is one victory I mean to protect … and to savor.” Dustin patted the earl’s shoulder. “Once the race is over, Raggert is welcome to fill you in on every aspect of Stoddard’s training. He timed the lad yesterday, as a matter of fact. Stoddard is already besting last year’s winner by more than a nose, and that’s without the advantages handicapping will afford us, given the meager number of races Dagger has taken part in.”

Lanston kept his face carefully devoid of reaction, the ever-so-slight dilating of his pupils the only indication of his concern. “I see. Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” He cleared his throat. “And Raggert? He’s working out satisfactorily, I presume?”

“He only started yesterday, but with qualifications such as his, I expect he’ll be an asset to Tyreham’s stables.” A knowing twinkle lit Dustin’s eyes. “By the way, should your inquiry about Raggert—uttered on the heels of my refusal to discuss Stoddard—be a reminder of the colossal favor you did me, issued in the hopes of inciting my guilt, you may save your breath. I’ve saved your neck on more occasions in the past than I’d care to recount. So consider us even. If, however, you are truly concerned with my view of Raggert’s skills, ask me again at Epsom. By then, I’ll have watched his training methods long enough to render an opinion.”

“You’re certainly in high spirits,” Lanston asked with a wry grin. “Even cockier than usual.”

“I suppose I am.” Abruptly, Dustin broke off, his gaze shifting to the paddock.

“What is it?” Lanston asked, following Dustin’s stare to the two jockeys who’d appeared.

“Someone I’m most eager to speak with.”

“Parker? Or Cralley?”

“Parker.”

“Why? Are you thinking of retaining his services?”

“Hardly,” Dustin muttered. “But I do have a host of questions for him.” He swung back to face Lanston. “Have you seen Alberts, by the way?”

“At Newmarket, you mean?” Slowly, Lanston shook his head. “Actually, I haven’t seen Alberts race since you discharged him. No one was particularly eager to take him on, knowing how displeased you were with his abilities.”

“Well, I hope to discuss those very abilities with him. So, if you happen to spy the fellow, let him know I’m looking for him.”

“Of course.” Lanston studied Dustin thoughtfully. “You aren’t reconsidering your decision to dismiss him, are you?”

“Not for a moment.” Dustin cleared his throat. “Edmund, would you excuse me? I want to speak with Parker before he’s immersed in preparations for tomorrow.”

“Of course. Will I see you at the Jockey Club later?”

“Absolutely. I have to collect Stoddard’s license and resolve a few details with the Stewards.”

“And then?” A corner of Lanston’s mouth lifted. “You do intend to stay for a portion of the meeting, don’t you—to witness my triumphs?”

“I’ll be here for a day or two. After which, I must get back to Tyreham and prepare for the Derby.”

“Splendid. That’s more than enough time for me to gloat over my soon-to-be victories.”

“Hmm?” Dustin’s mind was far away. “Oh, your champions, yes.” He patted his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll buy the victory drinks. In fact, I’ll begin with a prelude-to-victory drink. I’ll meet you at the Jockey Club in an hour.”

Leaving the earl, Dustin wound his way around to the paddock, strolling up to Parker. The jockey stood beside his mount, assessing the competition, his back to Dustin.

“What are you contemplating?” Dustin asked quietly. “How to win this race or how best to lose it?”

Parker’s head snapped around, and he stared at Dustin as if seeing a ghost. “W-what?” He swallowed, obviously attempting to bring himself under control. “Aren’t you the marquis of Tyreham?”

“I am.”

“You must have mistaken me for someone else. Who are you looking for, m’lord?”

“You.” Dustin glanced about the paddock. “How much did they offer you to throw this one? Five hundred pounds? More?”

Parker clutched the saddle of the thoroughbred beside him, his eyes darting about frantically. “No one’s approached me on this meeting. I swear it.”

“But they’ve approached you in the past?”

Sweat trickled down Parker’s jaw.

“The way I see it, you can answer me now or I can address my concerns to the Stewards. With very little effort, I’ll have your license revoked and ensure you don’t ride anywhere for a long, long time.”

“And if I answer?”

“Then I’ll turn around, retracing my steps from this paddock and retaining my silence. Given, of course, that you assure me you’ve thrown your last race.” Dustin’s stare was icy. “Well?”

“Twice,” the lad managed, his voice so low Dustin had to strain to hear it. “I only did it twice. Once at Doncaster, once at York. They gave me two hundred fifty pounds the first time, four hundred the second.”

“Who did? Who paid you?”

Again Parker’s gaze swept the area. “I don’t know their names.”

“Describe them.”

“Two men, one tall, the other heavyset with pale eyes and muscles thick enough to crush me. I know—he used them on me when I balked about throwing the second race.” The boy’s mouth trembled. “Please, Lord Tyreham, if they find out I told you this …”

“No one’s going to find out. You’re going to answer one final question, and then I’m going to walk away, and you can tell all your nosy pals, who at this very moment are straining to eavesdrop on our conversation, that I’m considering offering you a retainer for next season.”

A frightened nod. “What’s the question?”

“During these visits, did the men mention any names—most particularly the names of whoever sent them? Think, Parker. Think hard.”

Brow furrowed, Parker struggled to remember. At last, he shook his head. “No, m’lord. Never. They didn’t do much talking. They told me what they wanted, threatened me if I opened my mouth, and disappeared. I only saw them three times—when they made their first offer, when they paid me and ordered me to throw the second race, and when they paid me for that race. I haven’t seen them since. And I don’t want to.” He dragged his forearm across his sweat-drenched face. “Please, m’lord. That’s all I know.”

“I believe you.”

The jockey turned frightened eyes to Dustin. “Are you going to report me?”

“No. But, Parker, don’t throw another race. Ever,” Dustin warned, his lethal words a direct contrast to his tone and expression, both kept purposely affable for the benefit of passersby. “If those men should reappear, refuse them—threats or not. Otherwise, you can bid the turf good-bye. Is that clear enough?” He waited only for Parker’s emphatic nod. “Excellent. Your colleagues will never suspect a thing. Good day. And good luck in tomorrow’s race. May you run fortuitously and honestly.”

Turning, Dustin ambled off, satisfied that he’d acquired all the information Parker had to give.

Which wasn’t a bloody thing more than he’d already known.

The next two days proved equally futile.

Other than chatting with Lanston and concluding the final details pertaining to Stoddard’s Derby entry, Dustin was stymied at every turn. Of the additional seven jockeys he sought, three refused to say a word, their fear of physical harm obviously more powerful than their worry over losing their licenses; one took ill and didn’t ride; and three provided descriptions of the blackmailers that were nearly identical to Parker’s.

By the third day, Dustin was thoroughly disgusted, and more than a little uneasy. He hated leaving Nicole for so long, partially because he felt more secure when he was there to guard her tenuous role as Alden Stoddard, and partially because he missed her so much he ached with it.

For the umpteenth time in three days, his thoughts gravitated back to that crucial moment in the cottage doorway, the moment when Nicole had offered him her heart.

The reason I’m terrified is because I love you, too.