Dangerous Joy

by Jo Beverley

"Damn-it-all, are you blind?"

  "He won't attack me because he won't need to." She raised her chin. "I will kiss him willingly. Anywhere, anytime."

  Miles sucked in air, feeling as if he'd been punched. "As you were doing before I intruded?"

  "Exactly." But she turned away to look into the dancing flames in her fireplace.

  "Felicity, Dunsmore's no catch."

  She spun back. "Don't try to make these decisions for me. I know what I want."

  "You know nothing! What's the appeal of the man? He's handsome enough, but cold as a fish and has scarce a penny to bless himself with other than his son's money." Miles stopped dead. "That's it, isn't it? Kieran."

  "That's what?" But she wouldn't look at him.

  "You're trying to marry Dunsmore so as to look after Kieran."

  Her color betrayed her. "And what is wrong with that?"

  "Everything! Hell and the devil, Felicity, even if you marry the man, you can't protect the child. If Dunsmore decides to thrash Kieran every day, or send him away to the cruelest school in the land, you won't be able to stop him. If you were to try to take the matter to court, your position would be impossible. You'd only be his stepmother. And in the meantime, you'd be Dunsmore's wife. Think what that means!"

  Though her deepening color spoke of her agitation, she kept her eyes wide and steady on his. "You mean the marriage bed? I'm sure Rupert is an excellent lover."

  "I doubt that. He's not a man to be kind once the courting's over. Think of his behavior to his first wife."

  "Kathleen said he was a lusty lover."

  "Doubtless trying to get her with child so as to have a claim to her estate."

  "Whatever the cause, she had no complaint except that he ceased his attentions after... after Kieran."

  "Dammit, Felicity, she had no business speaking of such matters to a young girl."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, why should she be mealy-mouthed? I've held the mares for covering. I'm no swooning innocent. I would have thought that after our first encounter you'd know that. In full knowledge, I plan to marry Rupert Dunsmore. So, can we have an end to this matter of dragging me off to England? It will do no good and I would prefer to marry Rupert immediately."

  "Good or not, you are coming to England with me, Felicity. You need to meet some real men."

  She slapped the fan into the palm of her hand. "I don't need to meet real men. I am sure you think of yourself as a real man. I've met you, and it hasn't changed my mind at all!"

  She would have swept out of the room, but he seized her arm and dragged her close. "Perhaps you need more than a mere meeting, then, to see Rupert Dunsmore for what he is."

  She twisted angrily. "Are you going to show him up? But, no. You're my guardian, and you take your role so seriously." Her tone was scathing, and her eyes shot magnificent rage.

  "Since you won't be guarded by me, it's a lost cause." He spun her onto the bed and crushed her beneath him. She fought with every inch of her strong body, but he pinned her down ruthlessly. She tried to scratch, so he captured her hands.

  "Get off me, you foul, pox-ridden—"

  He silenced her with his lips. She bit him, and he jerked back with a hiss. She twisted again and almost won free, but he regained his hold.

  A burning pain shocked him back to his senses.

  He saw a row of deep scratches on his hand, already beading blood, and a small cat hissing inches from his nose. Horrified by his actions, Miles loosed his bruising grip and eased off Felicity, half-expecting to be clawed by her, too.

  She slithered off the far side of the bed, rubbing her bruised wrists, hair and eyes wildly disordered. "Try something like that again, Miles Cavanagh, and I'll put a pistol ball where it'll do the most good. On the Cross of St. Patrick, I swear it!"

  She scrambled to her feet and ran from the room. Miles collapsed into a chair, staring at an agitated black cat.

  "And by the Cross of St. Patrick, Gardeen, I'd deserve it. Thank you, little guardian."

  * * *

  Felicity watched from nearby until she saw Miles leave. Then she ran back into her room, slammed the door, and locked it.

  She collapsed onto the bench before her mirror and tried to pin her hair back into order. Her shaking hands were useless, however, and she sank her head onto them, fighting tears.

  She would not cry over any man, particularly not one like Miles Cavanagh.

  It had been as much her fault as his, though. She shouldn't have played with him as she had earlier, but it had been as if a wildness had seized her, commanding that she prove she could stir him as a man.

  A sob escaped as she thought of what might have been. Imagine if they had met more casually, he the stepson of her uncle, paying a visit to Foy Hall; she a simple, well-bred young lady. Then, their teasing conversations, their intertwining music, their moments of understanding could have been so precious.

  If she'd flirted with him, then, and he'd reacted with that hot, intent look, they could have kissed. They could have touched....

  Imagine if she'd been worthy of an honest man.

  Imagine if she'd never met Rupert Dunsmore.

  She pushed violently to her feet and paced the room.

  Damn Rupert Dunsmore to hell.

  He was desperate, though, and turning the screws. A week ago, he'd stopped Kieran's visits. Tonight, he'd told her he'd spanked the boy for insolence before leaving the house.

  The thought of her beloved son crying under that treatment broke her heart, particularly as the cause had been nothing the child had done, but her own actions.

  She stopped her pacing and tried for perhaps the millionth time to see some way out of the morass other than marriage to a man she despised. But for the millionth time, she failed.

  A mere child of fifteen, ill-guarded and not advised at all, she had let Rupert Dunsmore seduce her. She'd believed his tale of a miserable marriage. She'd believed his promise that she'd never become pregnant by him. When she'd found herself with child, she'd believed his protestations of guilt and repentance and let him and her grandfather save her from the consequences.

  She'd actually been grateful at the time!

  They'd arranged for her to visit "relatives in England" accompanied by Miss Herries. At the same time, Rupert had taken his "pregnant" wife to Cheltenham. In due course, the Dunsmores had returned in triumph to Loughcarrick with a healthy son.

  Some time later, Felicity had returned with a fine new wardrobe and tales of the pleasures of England to support her long absence. Some people, she remembered, had remarked that England did not seem to have agreed with her.

  Losing her child had not agreed with her, but life had improved. Once sure Felicity did not intend to snatch the boy back, Kathleen had welcomed her at Loughcarrick and Felicity had come to know her son. Poor Kathleen had been so utterly devoted to Kieran, and so deeply grateful for "the gift of him" as she put it, that Felicity's pain had been soothed.

  Since Rupert was generally absent, enjoying life in Dublin or London, and Kathleen was always pleased to have Felicity visit, life had settled into a tolerable pattern. Over the years, as Kieran's honorary aunt, Felicity had felt blessed to have such a happy outcome to her folly.

  If only Kathleen had not died.

  Felicity had been genuinely grieved simply because she had come to like the brusque woman. She had not realized at first how Kathleen's death would ruin her own life.

  Would Rupert have sought her in marriage without her newfound fortune? She'd never know the answer to that. She only knew that once Rupert discovered she was an heiress, he had been relentless.

  Oh, at first he tried to sugar it with protestations of devotion, claiming he had always loved her and only been restrained by his marriage vows. Felicity was no longer a naive fifteen, however, and she had long since realized that he had deliberately set out to gain the child he needed if he were to have a life-interest in Kathleen's estate.

  He had stalked Felicity because she was wild enough to
be accessible, but well-born enough for her family to be desperate to avoid scandal.

  His plan had been completely successful, but she had no mind to add to it by giving him control over herself and her inheritance.

  That was when he had pointed out the consequences of refusal.

  "My dear Felicity, I am a lusty man. If you do not marry me, I shall have to marry elsewhere."

  "Then do so, with my blessing." She had agreed to meet him in a coppice between their estates and now turned to remount her horse.

  "That will make some other woman Kieran's mother."

  That did cause a pang. "Kathleen was Kieran's mother as far as the world knew."

  "But my new wife would not know the truth, and would not welcome your haunting of Loughcarrick." He smiled thinly. "I'd make sure of it. In fact, I'd probably move my family away."

  It was a blow to the heart. "You... you weasel! Have you no thought of your son's happiness?"

  He seized her arm in a cruel grip. "No thought at all. In fact, my dear, Kieran could die tomorrow without my shedding a tear. My life-interest in the estate would not be affected, you know."

  It was a threat, like a knife set cold against the throat. "What do you want?"

  "You in my bed. Your fortune in my hands. I know it's tied up in a neat trust, but once you marry, you will have control of it with only your husband as trustee." He relaxed his hold to stroke her neck. "Ideal, don't you think?"

  She twisted free. "And what will you do when you've run through it?" She rubbed her bruised arm, sickened at the thought of marriage to this swine. "I'd be astonished if it lasted a decade!"

  "Perhaps I'll let you be frugal for us, Felicity. If you please me, in bed and out." It was an invitation to slavery, with the constant threat to Kieran to keep her in line. "My creditors are somewhat pressing," he continued. "We must marry now. I'm sure Leonard will agree if handled right...."

  But her grandfather, bless him and curse him, had not agreed. For once, he'd turned immovably stubborn and her pestering had, perhaps, contributed to the seizure that had led to his death.

  A death which had left her in the power of Miles Cavanagh, who seemed determined to prevent her marriage to Rupert at all cost.

  She paced the room again. She knew as well as Miles that her powers as Rupert's wife would be limited and her duties unpleasant, but she had to believe Kieran's life would be better than if she refused.

  Angered, Rupert was capable of whipping Kieran daily until the blood ran. He could even kill him if he thought he'd get away with it.

  Once in funds again, however, he'd be off to Dublin or London, to his drinking, whoring, and gaming. As long as the funds lasted, she and Kieran would be left in peace, and to be Kieran's mother in the eyes of the world was worth any sacrifice.

  And perhaps, if matters became truly impossible, she would find the courage to kill the weasel.

  She'd taken a loaded pistol to one of their meetings, planning to put a ball into his heart. She'd even drawn the pistol when he'd turned his back. When she'd cocked it, he'd spun to face her, turning pallid with fear.

  But, damn her paltry spirit, she'd not been able to squeeze the trigger and deprive a man of his life.

  She'd cursed her weakness then, and cursed it now, but it seemed she did not have the nerve for cold-blooded murder.

  Which left only marriage.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she sat at her mirror again and rearranged her hair. Then she wiped her face with a cool cloth and went downstairs to attend the closing hour of a truly disastrous evening's entertainment.

  Chapter 7

  By the next morning, an observer might have assumed that Miles Cavanagh and Felicity Monahan had overindulged in inebriating liquids. In Miles's case, the truth was that he'd hardly slept. Perhaps the shadows under Felicity's eyes were from the same cause.

  Normally she had a hearty appetite, and he hated to see her push ham and eggs around her plate, then make do with a piece of toast. He wanted to reassure her that she need not fear him, but Annie was at the table working her way through a plate-load of food.

  Annie suddenly looked up. "You're very quiet, you two. Usually, it's chatter, chatter. It's all that dancing. Worn you out."

  "You could be right, Aunt," said Felicity, wilting slightly. "I think I should rest." She drifted wearily from the room, but Miles quickly followed.

  "Felicity." She froze, one foot raised to climb the stairs. "We need to talk."

  "We do not."

  It was a choice between grovel and command, and Miles chose command. "Indeed we do. In the library. Now."

  She swung around. "How dare you give me orders!"

  "I'm your guardian, remember?"

  "After last night, you have the effrontery—"

  "In the library. You can berate me there."

  After a moment ringing with rebellion, she marched into the dusty room. Miles let Gardeen slip in before he closed the door. The cat's intervention might be needed again.

  Felicity faced him mutinously. "I doubt I'm safe with you."

  "You'll be safe as long as you don't try my patience too far."

  "And why shouldn't I try your patience? You have mine stretched as thin as silk!"

  He prayed for control. "Felicity, I was wrong to attack you. I apologize. It will not happen again."

  "Indeed it won't, for I'll shoot you in the ballocks if it does."

  "Felicity..."

  "Oh, stop this!" she snapped. "You thought to charm me into doing as you wish and you failed, so, man-like, you turned to bullying instead. Now, listen to me. I have intended to marry Rupert Dunsmore ever since his wife's death. I am not suffering any illusions about him. I know that is what I want to do. It is what I will do as soon as I am of age. You are just making difficulties for nothing."

  He leaned back against the desk to steady himself. "Why the hurry. Are you pregnant?"

  She flushed, then said, "Yes."

  "You're lying."

  "No, I'm not. I'm pregnant, and I want to marry Rupert before it becomes a scandal in the area."

  "If you marry Dunsmore, it'll be a scandal in the area, babe or not. Very well. We'll have the doctor in. If he confirms that you're with child, I'll authorize the wedding."

  She hissed with annoyance and tossed her head. "Oh, all right. I lied. But it's an excellent notion. It shouldn't take too much effort to make the lie true."

  He gripped the edge of the desk until his fingers hurt. "It will take magical powers. You're confined to the house unless accompanied by me."

  She paced the room like a caged animal. "You have no right to do this, no right! You know nothing of me, nothing of my life or what I want." Then she stopped suddenly and seemed to collect herself. She looked at him with what appeared to be honest intensity. "With my eyes open and my wits about me, Miles, I want to marry Rupert Dunsmore."

  Her control helped him to calm. "Because of Kieran. I do understand. But I won't let you do that to yourself."

  Tears welled in her eyes, and it was the first time he'd seen her cry. "Please," she whispered.

  He would have given her almost anything to ease that misery, but this one thing he could not give. "No."

  "Then damn you to hell," she said flatly and walked out of the room.

  Gardeen gave a snarling miaow, but Miles was not sure whom she was berating.

  Probably both of them.

  He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling as bruised as if he'd gone a round with Jackson. He could believe Felicity's desperation, but he could not let her throw her life away in such a cause. Dunsmore was doubtless threatening the child, but Miles still could not let Felicity sacrifice herself. It would be like letting someone run back into a burning building to rescue a child already beyond hope.

  There was nothing for it. He had to get her away from here.

  He gave her a day, keeping a wary eye on her from a distance. Then, as a first stage toward detaching her from Dunsmore, he suggested a visit to his
home in Clonnagh.

  It was dinner time, and her appetite had revived, even if her good humor hadn't. "And why should we do that?"

  "Just to be sociable. My stepfather is your uncle. My mother is now your aunt."

  "It's a pleasant idea," said Annie, "but I really don't care to travel. I miss my poor kitties so."

  "And I can't travel without a chaperone," Felicity declared with something close to a smirk. "What a shame."

  "Nonsense," said Miles. "We can travel in an open carriage. It's less than a day's journey."

  He was waiting for her next objection, but was surprised.

  "Very well," she said. "But we ride."

  "It's a long ride for a woman."

  She shot him a scathing look. "I'm no delicate blossom and I prefer to be independent."

  He decided not to fight that. "Very well. Argonaut is fit and could do with a long run. What mount will you use?"

  "Cresta, I think. We spoke of breeding her to your Midas in the spring, so it would be a way of getting her there."

  She was so cordial Miles was suspicious. "And how would you get back?"

  "Perhaps I'll be so worn out you'll have to send me in the carriage." Now she was almost teasing. Warning bells began to clang. "But no," she said lightly. "You must have a good mare you'd like to breed here in exchange. I'll ride it back with a groom in attendance."

  Ah, now he saw the reason for her good spirits. "You mistake matters, Felicity. If you ride back, it will be with me in attendance. For the next few weeks we are inseparable."

  She turned pale. "You're going to live here?"

  "No. You are going to see more of the world."

  She opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap. "You'll see," was all she said.

  He could as well have said the same words himself. When it came to a battle of wills, he had all the weapons. Why couldn't the infuriating woman accept that?

  Since war—or at least, rebellion—had been declared, Miles tried not to let Felicity out of his sight. He could not, however, watch her every second, and while he was using the privy, she gave him the slip.

  But surely, he thought, as he searched for her, she could not have gone far in an indoor gown and no bonnet.