Wishes in the Wind - Softcover

Kane, Andrea

3.8

242 ratings by Goodreads

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0671534831 ISBN 13: 9780671534837

Publisher: Pocket, 2001

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Nicole Aldridge, daughter of England's most acclaimed jockey, Nick Aldridge, whisks her father into hiding to protect him from blackmailers who have threatened his life for refusing to throw a race. Desperate to keep her father safe and the two of them fed, Nicole dresses as a boy and answers an ad addressed to her father by the Marquis of Tyreham. As Nick's "prot�g�," she wins the position of jockey, hired by the marquis to run the race of a lifetime: the celebrated Epsom Derby.

Dustin Kingsley, Marquis of Tyreham, renowned as a thoroughbred breeder and the ton's most sought-after bachelor, is restless, empty -- until he meets the beautiful stranger sitting by the Thames. Determined to win Nicole's heart, Dustin plunges headlong into the ominous mystery eclipsing their future, hell-bent on convincing Nicole that he's the only man for her.

An impossible masquerade, a never-to-be-forgotten Derby, and a cherished wishing locket propel Nicole and Dustin toward a climactic finish, where danger threatens a love destined -- by wishes and fate -- to prevail.

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About the Author:

Dear Readers,

I've been a "cerebral" type all of my life. I have a non-stop, questioning, analytical mind. I love doing crossword puzzles. To this day, I snatch the Sunday New York Times magazine section every week before the rest of my family can get to it. I then labor over that puzzle until I've exhausted myself (or finished the whole thing). In school, I read Agatha Christie books one after the other, and tried feverishly to outsmart Hercule Poirot.

On the other hand, I'm a die-hard sentimentalist. I cry at old movies and believe in striving for happily-ever-after. Relationships and family mean the world to me, not only in films and novels, but in real life, as well. The bonds we form with each other are often what sustain us in our most difficult moments, and what enhance our most jubilant celebrations.

To sum it up, I'm an interesting combination of idealist and pragmatist. And that works perfectly with what I write. The idealist in me loves writing romance, and the pragmatist in me loves writing suspense. I feel very fortunate that I'm able to combine the two, and give you books that keep you at the edge of your seat, but at the same time, make you care.

To keep up with me and my novels (past, present and future), visit my website at: www.andreakane.com.

You can email me at WriteToMe@andreakane.com.

Chapter 1

Newmarket Suffolkshire, England April 28, 1875

Die, Aldridge.

The painted words pierced Nicole's soul like the fatal stab of a dagger.

Bloodred, they trickled down the stall's rear wall, sending shards of terror streaking up her spine. Unconsciously, she gripped Oberon's reins more tightly, unable to enter the thoroughbred's quarters, equally unable to back away.

All semblance of the past hour's reveling vanished in a heartbeat, the jubilant celebration spawned by her father's victory in the 2,000 Guineas forgotten in lieu of this grotesque spectacle.

Die, Aldridge.

Nicole's eyes squeezed shut -- a futile gesture, for it could not erase the imprint of that pointed, sinister threat.

"Nickie?" From thirty feet away, Nicholas Aldridge sensed, rather than saw, his daughter's reaction. Extricating himself from his fellow jockeys, he made his way through Newmarket's stable to her side, patting Oberon affectionately as he passed. "What's wrong?"

His question died in his throat as he followed Nicole's gaze. "Damn," he swore softly.

"Papa," she managed, turning to face him. "What...?"

"It's paint, Nickie. Only paint. Not blood."

"I realize that." She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "But its meaning is clear." Violet blue eyes studied her father astutely. "It's because of the race, isn't it? Because you wouldn't cooperate?"

Her father glanced furtively from side to side. "How did you know about that? Sullivan swore to me he wouldn't say a word."

"Sully told me nothing. He didn't need to. I'm not blind, Papa. Nor am I deaf. I've heard you tossing about at night, just as I heard your hushed conversations with Sully. Thus, I know what pressure you've been suffering these past weeks. But I had no idea the consequences of your refusal could be as serious as -- " Nicole broke off, her tormented stare returning to the ominous crimson letters. "Who painted that?" she demanded. "Exactly who are these horrible men? Are they capable of making that threat a reality?"

"The scum who painted that message are merely pawns, Nickie. They deliver messages with their fists." Shoving back his cap, Nick dragged a forearm across his brow, then gulped at the bottle of ale he held. "As far as who issued their orders, I have no idea. But will he make sure they're carried out? I fear -- " His mouth snapped shut.

Nicole needed no further reply. Her chin came up, determination overriding panic. "Then we must act. Now. Before they have time to do so first."

"Act?" Fatherly protectiveness surged to life in Nick's eyes. "Nicole, you don't understand what -- who -- we're up against. These men are experts at coercion. There's no way for me to escape. I knew that from the instant I was approached, just as I knew there'd be hell to pay if I didn't throw this race. My visitors made that very clear." His somber gaze returned to the painted message. "Consequences," he muttered. "Pursuit. Harassment. Hell, even a beating. I expected all that. I also figured they'd try to blacklist me. None of it would have worked. I'm too damned tough to whip into submission and too damned good at what I do to be banned from the course. But murder?" His expression grew haunted, as if by uttering the word aloud he'd made the prospect all the more tangible.

"Let's go, Papa." Nicole was already in motion, having urged Oberon into his stall and untacked him with the skillful speed of a professional head lad. Snatching up a rag, she seized her father's bottle of ale, dousing the wall and vigorously scrubbing until the warning was no more than a muted blur. "There. Now no one will know the reason we fled."

"Fled?" Nick's head jerked around. "I just finished telling you -- "

"Hey, Nick!" Gordon Sullivan's deep voice interrupted them. Seconds later he strode into Oberon's stall. "We're celebrating your victory. What's keeping you and the elf?"

Unsmiling, Nick turned to his longtime friend and colleague. "They were here, Sully. They left their calling card."

Sully's grin vanished. "Dammit. I was afraid this might happen." He broke off, his uncertain gaze flickering to Nicole.

"Say what you like," Nick supplied. "My clever elf has figured it all out."

An unsurprised nod. "What type of calling card?'

"A threat," Nicole supplied, inserting herself between the men. "Painted in red. Bloodred. Sully, they mean to kill Papa. I've got to convince him to get out of here. Before it's too late."

"Kill him?" Sully echoed. "They used those words?"

"Their precise message was, 'Die Aldridge.' That's terrifying enough for me."

Beads of perspiration broke out on Sully's brow. "Nick, something's not right here. You know as well as I do that these bastards don't kill. Pressure, thrash -- yes. But kill? No." A flicker of apprehension. "Unless they're backed into a corner."

"You're talking about Redley," Nick supplied with a scowl of disbelief. "He was a bloody fool, Sully. Besides, we have no proof those lowlifes killed him."

"Don't we?" Sully's tone was ominously quiet. "You and I both ran the course at Doncaster last September. We both heard Redley boast to everyone within hearing distance that he'd thrown the St. Leger trial for himself, not for the scum who'd browbeaten him. He vowed to turn the tables, blackmail them out of thousands of pounds. Three days later, his quarters were ransacked and he was found dead."

"Oh, my God." Nicole went sheet white. "I thought he'd been robbed."

"It's possible he was." Nick wrapped a protective arm about Nicole's shoulders. "Stop it, Sully. You're scaring Nickie. Besides, the point is moot. I didn't give those hoodlums any cause for alarm. All I did was refuse to throw the race."

"Then why are they threatening to kill you?"

"The reasons don't matter," Nicole intervened. "Papa's safety does. I won't gamble with his life, Sully. I'm taking him away. Now."

Sully took in the all-too-familiar set of Nicole's jaw. "I agree, Nick must disappear, but not through your efforts, through mine."

"No." Nicole's veto was instant and fierce. "That would endanger your life as well. I won't have it."

"Nor will I," Nick concurred. "We'll find another way."

"Neither of you is thinking clearly," Sully accused with an exasperated shake of his head. "It's not my life that's at stake here. Nor is it solely yours, Nick." Scowling, he gave voice to the unpleasant truth. "These men aren't amateurs. They know everything about you -- including the existence of your revered only child. If you're in danger, so is Nicole."

"Damn," Nick hissed, all the color draining from his face. "I never considered that."

"Even if that's the case, Sully, you won't ensure my safety by risking your own," Nicole interrupted, her mind racing for answers. "So please don't get involved. This problem is mine. Mine and Papa's."

"Really?" Sully arched a brow. "And how do you intend to handle it? By dashing off to parts unknown like a reckless filly, Nick in tow? By running away with no strategy or means of survival?" He assessed Nicole's mutinous expression in utter exasperation.

Raucous laughter reached their ears.

"We haven't time for this argument now," Sully pronounced, glancing swiftly over his shoulder to confirm that none of their fellow jockeys had drifted close enough to overhear him. Confident that, for the moment, they remained alone, he dug into his pocket and extracted a key.

"Take Nick to my quarters. They're less than a mile from yours and a whole lot safer. Undoubtedly, whoever left that message knows where you live. By tomorrow they might have figured out that you've taken off, and come looking for you. I'll slip into your rooms tonight, before that happens. I'll fetch your things and bring them to you. By morning we'll have devised a plan to get you out of Suffolk -- both of you -- to transport you somewhere secluded. And I do mean secluded, not London during the heart of the racing season. Once we get you settled, you'll stay put until those bastards find a new victim. They can't hurt you if they can't find you. Now go."

"No bloody way," Nick denounced with a hard shake of his head. "Sully, have you lost your mind? I'm a jockey. How do you suggest I ride if I'm stashed away like some hidden treasure?"

"I don't suggest you ride. I suggest you stay alive. For your sake -- and Nicole's." Sully wasn't mincing words. "Now get the hell out of here before those ruffians come back to effect their threat." He groped in his jacket, pulling out several folded bills. "Take these. It's not much but it's all I've got, and, combined with your prize money, it'll be enough to buy you food and a place to stay."

"Keep your wages." Nick shoved his friend's hand away. "You're as noble -- and as rash -- as my daughter. Even if I were willing to give up racing and drop out of sight to protect Nickie, she and I need an income in order to survive. How long do you think we'd last on a few pounds?"

"We'll have an income, Papa," Nicole inserted, fists clenched at her sides. "I'll provide it."

Simultaneously, both men glared at her.

"What crazy idea are you thinking up this time, Elf?" Nick demanded, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"It's not crazy. It's perfectly reasonable. Sully just claimed that I, as well as you, are in danger. Or rather, that Nick Aldridge and his daughter are. Well, I can eliminate both the danger and our lack of money."

"And how will you do that?"

"By ceasing to be your daughter."

Another silence, more ponderous than the first.

"Listen to me, Papa." Nicole gripped her father's forearms, excitement tingeing her cheeks as her plan took shape. "Those men will be hunting for Nick and Nicole Aldridge. Well, we won't be found. You'll be in hiding. And I'll no longer be Nicole Aldridge."

"And who, may I ask, will you be?"

An unconcerned shrug. "I haven't invented a name. At least not yet. But what I call myself doesn't matter. What matters is what I shall be, not who. And the answer to that is any one of a dozen things. A stable hand. A...

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