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whereabouts.”
    “Ah, yes, Sullivan.” A nod. “I’ve seen him race. He’s a fine jockey.”
    “He’s also our closest friend. He helped us locate safe quarters, then spread the news of Nick Aldridge’s supposed injury. The rest was up to me.”
    “Up to you?”
    “Yes. I convinced Papa to entrust me with the responsibility of earning our wages, at least for a time. After fifteen years, I was more than able to fulfill the requirements of any job in the thoroughbred world.”
    “As a boy.”
    “As a boy,” Nicole confirmed. “But first, I had to find an available position. In order to do that, I had to pore over the ads of every newspaper I could get my hands on, which meant I had to venture onto the streets of London to buy those newspapers.” She grimaced. “So I dressed the only way I could to ensure concealment—in the reprehensible apparel I had on the night we met.”
    “You looked lovely.” Dustin couldn’t help but grin at her shudder of revulsion—the complete antithesis of any reaction he’d ever received from a lady. “The only way you could ensure concealment …” he repeated. “Am I to conclude you don’t often don conventional attire?”
    “Never, if I can help it. I only own two gowns, and those I bought just to appease Papa. Only for him would I have suffered the misery of wearing that ridiculous day dress. Not to mention that torturous corset, which nearly succeeded in suffocating me to death.”
    Laughter rumbled from Dustin’s chest. “So that was the cause of your near swoon.”
    “Corsets should be declared illegal,” she informed him with a lift of her chin.
    “I couldn’t agree more.” He caressed her nape, keenly attuned to her tiny quivers of pleasure. “I’ll remember never to suggest that you wear one.” His voice grew husky. “We have yet to probe the question, what do I want of Nicole?”
    “I’m afraid to ask.”
    “Don’t be.” He tipped her head up to his. “One kiss,” he urged, nipping at her lower lip. “The same one we began but never finished.”
    “Dustin—” The bewildered expression was back on her face. “Given the circumstances, I don’t think that’s wise.”
    “Probably not,” he agreed. “But, as I told you, I believe in taking risks, especially when my instincts scream out that I should.” He drew her close.
    “My instincts are shouting just the opposite,” she whispered, wide-eyed.
    “In that case, let’s listen to mine.”
    With that, his mouth closed over hers, silencing her protests and completing the awakening that had begun two nights before, on a private bench along a moonlit walk.
    A kiss—Dustin knew it only as a prelude to passion, the preliminary step in an age-old dance that culminated in bed.
    Not so with Nicole.
    The sweetness of her mouth, the hesitant parting of her lips as she silently granted him entry, was a breathtaking entity unto itself, as foreign as it was humbling. Trembling with emotion, Dustin enfolded her in his arms, deepening the kiss in deliberate, gradual shimmers of sensation. His tongue glided inside, softly stroking every velvety surface, learning every delicate texture. Then it sought hers, melding in an exquisite, shattering caress more poignant than anything he’d ever experienced.
    Nicole felt the impact, too, for she stiffened, clinging and retreating all at once.
    “Don’t.” Dustin breathed the protest into her open mouth, tightening his embrace even as he ordered himself to slow, to remember her innocence, her inexperience with men.
    He felt as inexperienced as she.
    “Stay.” His lips circled hers. “Just a moment longer—stay.”
    She paused, and he could actually feel her indecision.
    Cautiously, he repeated the caress, his tongue penetrating, sliding sensuously against hers.
    She melted, moaning softly and entwining her arms about his neck.
    “Yes,” he managed, shuddering at the. unbearable beauty of the contact. “Nicole … kiss me.” He molded her against