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With him.
It didn’t ease his conscience one iota that she’d been as eager as he, nor that she’d unfurled more completely with each of his intensifying caresses. In fact, it made him feel all the more a cad. Because he was well aware she’d been drowning in her first taste of passion, lost to newly discovered sensations more acute than she’d ever encountered, much less overcome. Lord, she’d never even been kissed. In short, she hadn’t a clue of the power desire wielded. He was the experienced one; she the novice. It had been his responsibility to set the limits, and he’d failed.
Dammit, he should have stopped sooner. Instead, he’d lost all control, nearly taking her virginity—and on the cabin floor, no less. With a half hour to return her to Aldridge’s quarters.
Aldridge. His reception certainly hadn’t helped matters. They’d arrived at the cottage to find him waiting like a cursed bloodhound, whipping open the cottage door so rapidly it left no doubt that he’d been pacing just inside it. And while Dustin had ensured that every article of Nicole’s clothing, every hair on her head had been wholly restored, he could do nothing to repress her guilty expression, nor could he force her averted gaze back to her father’s.
Aldridge’s curt goodnight had been as cool as his countenance, filled with more than a touch of suspicion. Hell, Dustin hadn’t a doubt that, were Nick not confined to his quarters, he would have stalked outside, dueling pistol cocked and ready.
And the bloody clock was first chiming ten.
Dustin slammed his cup to the saucer.
Why hadn’t he followed his instincts and told Nicole what was in his heart—given her the words. Lord knew, he’d started to, not once, but countless times. I love you. Three words he’d never spoken to another, words that had been lying in wait for just the right woman.
For Nicole.
The question was a rhetorical one. He knew perfectly well why he’d refrained from uttering his profession of love aloud: because he hadn’t a clue how Nicole would receive it. Especially offered in the aftermath of passion. Would she believe it? Embrace it?
Were she any other woman, Dustin’s answer would have been an unequivocal yes. The women he knew would have swooned with pleasure to be offered his heart—especially because it would be one step closer to his title and his money. But Nicole wasn’t other women. She wouldn’t welcome such a declaration unless she deemed it true. And he wasn’t at all confident she did—at least not yet. What he was confident of was the fact that she loved him in return, a certainty born of emotion, not arrogance. Yet, certain though he was of Nicole’s love, he was equally convinced that the enormity of what was happening between them was escalating too fast for her to handle. Especially in light of the fact that she was still grappling with her preconceived notions of who he was, how he lived, not to mention the aversion she had to his bloody title.
Didn’t she understand that he’d gladly relinquish it all for her?
The answer was, no, she didn’t. Not fully. Not yet.
Therefore, expressing his love might have bound her to him or it might just as easily have driven her away.
The latter prospect had effected his silence.
But not for long. Because, precisely as he’d sworn to Nicole last night, he intended to overcome every obstacle in their path and, come hell or high water, make her his.
Soon.
“Pardon me, sir.” Poole’s reappearance interrupted Dustin’s silent resolution.
“Yes, Poole?”
Poole stepped around the partially open door. “You asked me to advise you when Mr. Raggert arrived at Tyreham. Well, he’s been shown to his quarters and is unpacking.”
“Excellent.” Dustin rose. “Are you off to your nephew’s house?”
A nod. “But before I go, I have two unexpected visitors to announce.”
Dustin went taut. “Is it those hoodlums again?”
“Oh, nothing like that, sir. These are welcome guests, not destructive—”
Before he could finish his sentence, the door jerked forward another notch, clipping Poole on the shoulder and, having caught him off guard, sending him off balance.
Unceremoniously, and seemingly without regret, Alexander Kingsley crawled swiftly into the study, casting a curious glance at the astounded butler who was in the process of regaining his footing.
A crack of laughter erupted from Dustin’s chest. “Not destructive, you were saying?” Crossing the room, he scooped up his nephew at the same instant Ariana burst in. “Alexander? Where did you …?” She halted, sagging with relief when she saw her son in his uncle’s arms. “Thank goodness. I put him down only long enough to hand Poole my coat and admire that lovely new fern in your entranceway. When I turned, he was gone.”
“Thirty seconds. That’s all the time he needs.” Dustin gave his sister-in-law a warm hug. “What a splendid surprise!
To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“To the fact that your nephew’s been demanding ‘Un’l’ since you left Spraystone. Evidently, he misses you.” She turned to Poole. “Forgive me, Poole. Are you all right?”
