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“What would you have said?” Nicole asked softly, staring at the ground. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Besides, the point is a moot one. Papa doesn’t talk when he’s angry, he shouts, except when he’s truly outraged. In those cases, he stews for a while, then bellows. Evidently, this is one of those cases.” She sighed. “Immediately after shutting the door in your face last night, he stalked off to bed. He hasn’t spoken to me since. By this evening, he will.”
“Derby—” Dustin made a move to hold her, then checked himself. “I’m sorry. I never intended to—”
“Please, Dustin, stop apologizing.” On the heels of uttering his given name, and in her normal voice, she glanced about them, needing to verify that they were not being overheard. Reassured, she met his gaze, whispering, “I wanted those moments as much as you did.”
Emotion—heated, drenching—surged between them.
“I meant every word I said,” Dustin managed huskily.
“I know you did.” Nicole had to fight the relentless urge to fling herself into his arms. “But now is not the time to discuss this.” She wet her lips, her ad
mission emerging in a breathless rush. “I’m having a hard enough time continuing this pretense in light of what’s happened.”
A vein throbbed at his temple. “I need to be with you.”
“Give Papa a few days. Give me a few days to bring him around. Please, Dustin, give me some time.”
Time. Her choice of words seemed to incite a private battle within him. Abruptly, he nodded, his intensity clearly unabated, yet somehow simmering beneath the surface. “Take whatever time you need. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
“Will you?” she heard herself murmur, searching his face for some palpable assurance.
Emotion darkened his midnight eyes to near black. “The fires of hell couldn’t keep me away.” His gaze delved deep into hers. “And Derby, in answer to that silent wish you made moments ago, one day the child I’m holding will be ours.”
Eleven
“THAT WAS BREATHTAKING.”
Ariana shook her head in amazement, leaning back from where she’d been perched, whip-taut, on a fence near the course’s end, straining to see Stoddard and Dagger complete their final lap. “I can’t remember the last time I saw such an impressive display of horsemanship. Dustin, you’re right.” She climbed down to stand beside her brother-in-law. “The Derby is all but yours.”
“Two minutes, forty seconds,” Raggert called out from a dozen feet away, looking as astounded as Ariana.
“Two and forty,” Dustin muttered, his expression pensive. “That beats last year’s Derby winner by six seconds. Taking into account that Tyreham’s course is similar in terrain to Epsom’s, and only several lengths shorter, I’d say that’s damned good. Damned, unbelievably good.”
He loped over to his jockey. “Stoddard, you’ve outdone yourself. Do that on Derby Day and first place is ensured.”
Nicole touched the brim of her cap. “I’ll certainly try, my lord.”
A broad grin split Dustin’s face. “Do that.” He glanced at Raggert, who had just reached them. “Do you still think Dagger is hopeless?”
Nicole blinked, astonished that Raggert had openly supplied Dustin with a negative assessment of Dagger.
The trainer’s response astonished her even more.
“I owe Dagger and Stoddard an apology,” he admitted. “I was too hard on them both. Sorry about that,” he said directly to her, a note of respect in his voice. “I had no idea you could ride like that.”
“Dagger’s the one who makes it possible. But I appreciate your praise.” With that, she glanced at Dustin. “I’m going to cool him down, if that’s all right, sir. He’s tired.”
“He’s not alone in that regard,” Dustin noted aloud. “You look rather peaked yourself. You’ve been pushing pretty hard these past few days. After Dagger’s cooled down, why don’t you take a few hours off?”
“Thank you, my lord. I appreciate that.” Nicole understood at once that Dustin was giving her the afternoon not only to recoup her strength but to work things out with her father.
“Are you staying at Tyreham?” Raggert was asking.
“Temporarily, yes,” Nicole replied cautiously. “Lord Tyreham has been kind enough to let me use one of the vacant cottages while I’m training for the Derby. It allows me more practice time.”
“Do you live far from here?”
The queries were innocent enough, but Nicole felt sweat begin to trickle down her back—sweat that had nothing to do with the exertion of galloping the course. “I live in London.” She kept her tone as casual as she could. “The East End.”
