by Jo Beverley
Felicity glanced at Miles, and he grinned. "Don't even think of it. I have no singing voice. But I can play."
To her surprise, he picked up the harp, sitting it on his knee and leaning it snugly against his shoulder. "Don't look so surprised. It's Ireland's ancient instrument."
"I've never actually seen it played before."
Aideen laughed. "I think Miles decided to learn it out of sheer perversity when told he was to be educated in England."
"Probably," he agreed, plucking a delicate waterfall of sound. "Then I delighted in the surprise everyone showed. There's nothing a youngster enjoys as much as surprising his elders."
He proceeded to play with considerable skill upon the instrument, his strong fingers summoning lively music to dance through the receptive room.
As those strong fingers had summoned music to dance through her receptive body...
Felicity rested her head against the back of her chair and closed her eyes, seeking pleasant thoughts.
Those that came, however, were disturbing.
Rupert had no musical instruments in his house. She had suggested to Kathleen that Kieran should be taught music, but Rupert, apparently, thought such skills unmanly.
When her son visited Foy, she encouraged him to play on the harpsichord, and he showed an aptitude. But he was already being affected by his father's views and thought music for milksops.
It was frightening to think of the effect Rupert could have on the boy in the future if unchecked. Thus far, he had largely ignored Kieran, but if he chose not to...
She must marry the man, and soon.
Then she realized her hands were resting low on her abdomen and her troubled mind settled on her major fear.
How could she have been so stupid, so mad?
She opened her eyes to look at Miles and knew exactly why. It was as if he'd cast a spell over her.
She could be carrying his child.
Deep inside, a primitive part of her rejoiced, but it was a tragedy in the making, especially if it were a son, his legal heir if they were married.
With the possibility that she carried his child, he would never let her go.
Then she realized the music had stopped.
She flushed. "I'm sorry." She meant for more than her abstraction.
"You look exhausted," Miles said. "Do you want to go to bed?"
The mere word "bed" had her protesting. "No. No, I'm not tired at all."
Miles raised a skeptical brow but said, "Then perhaps we could have a few hands of whist."
The older couple agreed and the table was arranged, with Felicity and Miles as partners.
There was nothing Felicity wanted less than to spend an hour or more opposite Miles.
Opposite the man she loved.
Opposite the man she had loved in a manner, she was sure, few humans ever did.
Opposite the man she might have to betray by stealing his child.
Oh, how had she let herself slide even deeper into the morass?
And she had given her word not to try to escape for a week.
* * *
At ten o'clock, Lady Aideen announced that she was too tired to continue. Soon the older couple headed up the stairs, not looking particularly weary at all.
Felicity hastily picked up the candle awaiting her, but Miles halted her escape with a gentle touch on her arm.
"There was very little calculation in what happened this afternoon, Felicity. I was driven by desire. And love. I do love you."
"Don't..."
"I doubt I can change it now. I can choose not to speak of it, but why should I? How else am I to win you?"
"You cannot win me, Miles. Accept it."
"I am not a man who easily accepts defeat, mo chroi."
She twitched out of his hold. "I warned you. I warned you from the first that I was dangerous. And see what has happened! Let me be, Miles. Let me be, and be you safe."
He just shook his head. "It is beyond that."
She turned toward the stairs, but at the first step, his voice halted her.
"Felicity, if we have nothing else in this life, we have one week. My door will be open to you tonight."
"Then you'll have a chilly room." With that, she climbed the stairs without looking back.
* * *
Felicity's room was not chilly. In well-run Clonnagh, a fire burned cheerfully in the grate, hot water awaited, and the handle of a warming pan stuck promisingly out of the covers of her bed.
Still, she shivered and rubbed her arms as if in drafty Foy.
At a tug on the bell-rope, a maid hurried in to help her out of her gown. Felicity couldn't help thinking of the way Miles had unfastened her buttons without her even noticing.
Oh, but he was a cunning rascal.
Which had her thinking of what had come after—a loving as different to her memories of Rupert as silver is to tin.
It would be sweet indeed to gather more of that to her heart before...
But she wasn't about to court disaster twice!
Once down to her shift, Felicity sent the maid to bed. Then she stripped naked and washed, scrubbing away any reminder of her afternoon's insanity. When she glanced toward the mirror, however, she saw a mark on her shoulder.
She ran over to check. It was! It was what they called a love-bite. Rupert had marked her that way, too, careful to place it where she could hide it.
At fifteen that hadn't been hard, for she'd not needed a maid's assistance out of her gowns.
He'd relished the mark on her, though.
She'd relished it, too, infatuated as she had been. She remembered how desperately she'd wanted to tell someone of the wonderful things that were happening, of the fact that a handsome, mature man loved her.
Dear God, what fools young girls could be!
And what wicked wretches the men who took advantage of their sweet willingness.
Miles's mark was not as careful. If she wore a low-necked gown, it would show. She was sure that was deliberate. He intended to claim her.
Shivering, she touched the mark, which neither roughened the skin nor hurt. A magical thing, really.
She wished she'd marked Miles. At the thought, she smiled, a wicked womanly smile that made the naked creature in the mirror something quite different to Felicity Monahan—sometimes hoyden, sometimes proper young lady of Foy Hall.
Here, in a strange house, she was truly becoming a woman, realizing her woman's magical powers for good or ill.
Becoming Grania.
Grania, who was chosen by the High King, Finn mac Cool himself, to be his bride, saw Diarmuid—Dermot as he was called now—and fell in love. Grania, who used her woman's magic to seduce the hero from his lord and his friends.
Diarmuid had tried to resist, but Grania's spell had proved too strong. They had fled together with the High King in pursuit; but by strength and cleverness, Diarmuid always triumphed so that they found peace together.
But only for a time. In the end, Finn had gained his revenge and Diarmuid had paid with his life for Grania's love.
Most Irish love stories ended in blood.
Felicity shivered. Was there a warning there? Though she tried to be modern, there was too much magic in Ireland for it to be dismissed entirely.
Was Miles her Diarmuid?
But then she grimaced. That would make Rupert the great hero, Finn, and that she could not believe.
No, if anything, she was Diarmuid, trying to hold to her allegiance not to Rupert but to her son, while Miles Cavanagh cast his sensual spells. And as in the myth, surrender could cause nothing but suffering in the end.
Felicity turned from the mirror to cover her disturbing nakedness with her sensible cotton nightgown and her wild hair with a cotton cap. Then, blocking her mind to the insistent temptation of a certain open door, she climbed into her warm bed and insisted that her tired body sleep.
And after an hour or two, it succumbed.
Chapter 11
Felicity awoke fr
om dreams of magical caves and bloodstained swords, with always a small black cat at her side. Miles had not been in her dreams at all—unless he'd been the helmeted warrior roaring defiance, or the dark presence reaching for her, calling for her, tempting her to destruction. For a modern house, Clonnagh was strangely fertile ground for such matters.
She breakfasted in her room, plotting activities which would keep her out of her guardian's way. When she could delay her exit no longer, she took desperate measures and asked Miles's mother to teach her something of domestic management.
It seemed to Felicity that Lady Aideen's eyes turned sharp and shrewd, but she agreed cordially enough. "A young lady contemplating marriage should certainly take interest in such matters."
Felicity's mind immediately went to Miles, and she almost protested that she was contemplating no such thing. Then she recalled that she was, in fact, contemplating marriage—to Rupert Dunsmore. With a suppressed shudder, she mumbled something vague.
"Not that I am the best adviser, my dear, if you want to know how to pickle beetroot or smoke a ham," declared Miles's mother. "I never had patience with such matters myself."
"But Clonnagh is so well run."
"The secret is to hire good servants." Lady Aideen led the way briskly to the small drawing room. "Then reward excellence and punish laziness. It is very like raising children and at times can seem more trouble than it is worth. But if done well, there are rewards. Now, since I normally spend the morning taking care of such matters, why don't you observe?"
Accordingly, Felicity sat beside her hostess as Lady Aideen checked the housekeeper's and the cook's accounts and endorsed their plans for the day. She went with her to the lower regions and stood by as storage cupboards were unlocked for the distribution of necessary supplies of tea and wine.
"You may think such precautions mean-spirited," Lady Aideen said as they returned upstairs to investigate a matter of worn hangings, "but it is simpler for all. If the valuable items are not safeguarded by the mistress, then a member of the staff must be the guard. Then they are always worried they will be blamed if there is a theft. In a grander house like Kilgoran, of course, the steward or groom of the chambers can be entrusted with such tasks."
"I suppose you would have liked to have had charge of Kilgoran."
"Faith, no," Lady Aideen declared. "It's a monstrosity, and even with the best servants, a terrible amount of work. And, of course, the Earl of Kilgoran must keep open house for friends and connections, so there's little peace and privacy."
"It sounds horrible."
"Indeed." Lady Aideen paused to run a finger along the top of a chair and frowned at the trace of dust. "Miles's father had to work hard to persuade me to marry him with such a threat hanging over his head, poor man."
"And poor Miles."
"Oh, I'm sure he'll find a woman willing to share his burden. He offers many compensations. He's a good man, strong but gentle."
It was the strength that sent a shiver down Felicity's spine.
Lady Aideen led the way into a spare bedchamber and inspected the hangings, which an observant maid had discovered to be frayed in places. "Moth," she declared, checking all the cloth in the room. "There's more here, see."
Felicity dutifully studied the frayed holes, though in truth, she was very familiar with moth-eaten fabrics and these did not seem badly damaged.
Lady Aideen, however, took it seriously, ringing for the housekeeper and ordering the hangings taken down to be cleaned, treated with camphor, and repaired. At the same time, the whole room was to be scoured in an attempt to get rid of any remaining eggs.
"There, you see," she said with a grin, leading Felicity down to the drawing room. "All I have to do is order a great deal of work for others. It will be the same for you if you organize things well."
Felicity immediately thought of herself organizing Clonnagh, picking up the reins of this organized household. But then she gave herself a shake.
It was Loughcarrick she would be managing, which had always been well run under Kathleen's eye. What she had learned here today would help her to keep up the standards and be a good wife to Rupert Dunsmore.
She shuddered again, even though in well-run Clonnagh the drawing room was warm and free of draughts.
* * *
Miles noted that Felicity was avoiding him. It was hardly surprising, but in a twisted way it gave him hope. If she'd seemed comfortable spending the morning with him, he would have been more concerned.
Faith, after yesterday, there was surely no question of indifference. He could distinguish between casual sex of even the most passionate kind and that joining of heart, mind, and soul. Surely to God, it must have meant the same to her and make impossible the idea of marrying another.
Perhaps she just needed a little time to grow accustomed to the change.
So he settled to handling a number of administrative matters, hoping against hope that at some point his exasperating ward would seek him out.
Instead, he was interrupted by the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel drive.
He left his study to greet whoever was arriving. When he opened the door, however, he was stunned to see Mrs. Edey descend from the coach, then turn to help Kieran down.
Was this some devious plot by Dunsmore? He could imagine nothing more injurious to his plans.
Bags were being taken out of the boot as if the two anticipated a long stay. Mrs. Edey led the excited lad up to the steps, clearly admonishing him to mind his manners. But then Kieran looked up.
"Hello, sir!" he cried. "Is Sissity here?"
"Yes. Come in and I'll have her found for you." What else could he say?
Miles was attempting to be courteous, but perhaps some trace of his feelings showed, for Mrs. Edey said, "Did you not expect us so soon, Mr. Cavanagh? Lady Aideen's letter implied that we were to come here immediately."
His mother? His mother had done this?
He forced a smile. "I'm merely surprised at your speed, Mrs. Edey. You must have started at the crack of dawn. But you're very welcome. Come in and we'll have tea."
Even as he led the way to the small drawing room, Felicity emerged from it. Her eyes fixed immediately upon the boy and lit with joy. "Kieran, my poppet. What a lovely surprise!"
He ran straight into her open arms and was hoisted up on her hip. "Is it? I hope it is. We came ever so fast. And we changed horses twice. I saw a big, big magpie...."
The lad chattered away as Felicity carried him into the drawing room, sat him on a chair, and took off his coat and hat. "It all sounds like a wonderful adventure, dearest. But I'm sure you must be hungry. What would you like to eat?"
"Now, now," Mrs. Edey said, hovering, "you mustn't spoil him, Miss Monahan. Master Kieran will eat what he is given. And he must wash his hands first, too."
Miles saw the brief flash of resentment on Felicity's shining face before she accepted the other woman's rights. "Of course, he must. I'll take him to the dressing room down here, for there is water there for washing."
Aideen stepped forward to welcome Mrs. Edey, which let Felicity escape with her treasure.
Miles looked after her, deeply disturbed. Kieran Dunsmore could well be an opponent no mortal man could defeat.
When Colum arrived to bear part of the duties of hospitality, Miles drew his mother apart. "What the devil possessed you to bring the lad here?"
"You wanted him safe." She was so blandly innocent that he knew there was a plot in this.
"If I'd wanted him here, I could have arranged it myself, don't you think?"
"There are any number of things you could do for yourself that you seem to like my arranging for you, even to ordering your shirts. I have no idea why you're glaring at me. The child hardly seems a monster."
Since the child was just returning with Felicity, charmingly regaling her with some long, complex story, Miles couldn't deny it. "He's an acceptable urchin, but Felicity is far too fond of him."
"No bad thing, surely,
when she intends to marry his father."
"She is not going to marry Kieran's father, but that's not made easier by this turn of events."
"If you want my assistance, dear boy, you have only to ask."
"There'll be drought in Kilkenny before I ask your help again."
Luncheon was announced, and his mother flashed him a very knowing look before bustling off to arrange matters.
Mrs. Edey tried to protest that Kieran did not eat with adults yet, but was overruled by everyone except Miles, so the child sat at the table on two thick books to raise him up. Miles found nothing to object to in the lad's table manners, but he could not like the way Felicity was focused on the boy.
It was as if the child was the center of her world.
Which was a position he wanted for himself.
How the devil could he block her marriage to Dunsmore when it would steal from her the center of her world?
But then he remembered Gardeen. How could he let Felicity put herself in the power of such a vicious wretch?
His mind swam out of confused anger and into logic. Clearly, if he wanted to save Felicity, he would have to find a way to safeguard Kieran as well.
But how could anyone permanently separate father and son?
Short of murder.
It was an appealing notion, but he didn't take human life as lightly as that.
Perhaps the Rogues could come up with a cunning plot.
After lunch, when Felicity took Kieran into the garden, Miles accompanied them even though it was painful to witness her absorption in the child. It was even more painful to be apart from her.
He showed Kieran his favorite climbing tree and boosted him onto the lowest branch. He introduced the lad to the dogs and encouraged him to play with them. He sagely discussed the points of the horses in the closest pasture.
Virtue was rewarded as Felicity gradually grew less wary. It was doubtless mostly for the boy's sake, but he would take what crumbs he could.
"I like that white," said Kieran, sitting between them on the top rail of the fence. "I want a white horse."
"You wouldn't like that one, my lad. He's a devil incarnate."
