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“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.
