Dangerous Joy

by Jo Beverley

  "Yes, of course," said Felicity. "But I'll be glad to be back in Kilgoran."

  Miles laughed and kissed her. "I think I owe Rupert Dunsmore a debt of gratitude. I never imagined any bride of mine saying such a thing."

  Back at Foy, Kieran asked to play outside with Gardeen. After making sure Liam and Mrs. Edey would stay with him, Felicity permitted it, even though the winter dusk was settling.

  "See how brave I'm getting," she said to Miles, refusing to watch her son from the window.

  He rubbed the back of her neck as if he knew she was tight there. "I've never doubted your courage. But if you don't learn to relax, you'll shatter."

  She flexed her neck back against his soothing touch. "Mmmmm. That does feel wonderful."

  So he sat her on the sofa and gently massaged her neck until the tension eased away.

  "Miss Monahan!"

  Felicity sat straight up to see Mrs. Edey run into the room, red-faced. "Kieran! He's gone!"

  "What?" Felicity shot to her feet, heart thundering.

  The woman collapsed, panting, into a chair. "He was playing with... Gardeen in the garden. I was writing a... letter. The cat leaped on me and my pages blew about." She put a hand to her chest and tried to catch her breath. "I ran... to gather them and when I turned back... they were both gone!"

  "Liam?" asked Miles.

  "He'd gone. There was a shriek.... He went to check...."

  "How long ago was this?" demanded Felicity, gripping the woman's arm. "It's getting dark."

  "Perhaps a quarter of an hour," said the woman, starting to shake. "I tried to find them. How could they all just disappear? But there's a mist..."

  Servants were gathering, and Miles ordered one to bring brandy for the woman. "Where were you?" he asked.

  "In that sheltered corner near the stables." She pushed to her feet. "I'll go and search again."

  "No, you stay here." The brandy came, and Miles had her take a sip before he organized the inside staff to search the house and gardens and sent a message to the village.

  Felicity left him to it and ran toward the stables.

  She almost ran into Annie. "Kieran's disappeared!"

  "With Gardeen?"

  "I think so."

  "Then he'll be all right."

  "Oh, Aunt, what can that small cat do? Rupert killed her once. Or, at least..." She put her hands to her spinning head. "I have to find him. I have to! Have you seen anything?"

  "Just cats and mist. I'll look around. Don't you worry, dear." She ambled off.

  Then Miles was there. "What did Annie say."

  "Not to worry," Felicity snapped bitterly. "That Gardeen would look after him." Then she turned to stare at the spot where the gloom had swallowed her aunt.

  "What?" he asked.

  "She had no cats with her."

  "Devil take it, that's hardly to the point, Felicity!"

  "God, you're right." She raced toward the stables.

  The grooms were already scouring the area. "Nothing, Miss," said her head groom. "But one of the men thought he heard a horse in the lane a while back."

  Felicity turned on Miles. "Rupert!"

  "It can't be." But he was already speaking to the groom. "Your best horse."

  "And Dana," said Felicity. "Just bridle them." She ran into the tack room and slit her wool gown front and back. By the time she was done, Dana was ready. She grasped the mane and swung onto the horse, then cantered out of the stables, Miles by her side.

  They soon came across searchers who just shook their heads. But in the next bunch, there was one who'd seen a horseman. "Heading to Monagal!"

  "Did he have a child?"

  "No way to tell, Miss."

  Miles and Felicity turned that way. "What's there?" he called. "Bog, I suppose."

  "Indeed. The English Bog, it means."

  They speeded in that direction but paused again to check with another group of men whose lanterns waved eerily in the dark.

  "Haven't seen a rider, but I've seen a devil of a lot of cats."

  "Cats?"

  "All over the place. All heading for Monagal."

  "Annie!" Miles and Felicity exclaimed together, then frowned at each other in total bewilderment.

  "If she's hurt Kieran, I'll..." Felicity kicked her horse to a gallop despite the dark.

  Blessedly, the moon rode out from behind the clouds.

  Lights flashed ahead.

  For a moment, Felicity thought they were more lanterns, but then she realized it was the moonlight in cats' eyes. A mass of cats running toward her. Hunting cats.

  Hunting a man.

  A man who was running after a small child.

  Felicity kicked her horse forward, then tumbled off to seize her sobbing son and hold him close, wishing she had a pistol to turn on Dunsmore.

  Miles rode past her. Someone had a pistol.

  A crack.

  A flash.

  A shriek.

  All from ahead.

  Miles's horse reared with a scream, throwing him.

  Clutching Kieran in her arms, Felicity staggered forward to where Miles had rolled free of his horse's thrashing hooves. Up ahead, Rupert seemed to be fighting.

  He was flailing at cats.

  A cat must have leaped on him even as he fired that shot, ruining his aim.

  "Hush, hush," she soothed her son. To Miles, she said, "Are you all right?"

  "Just winded." He scrambled to his feet. Then he looked ahead. "What the devil...?"

  "It's the cats," gulped Kieran. "They saved me. Papa took me. The cats made his horse rear."

  Felicity held him even tighter. Rupert was running now, running away from them, away from the cats.

  "Papa wanted to throw me in the bog."

  Miles and Felicity shared an appalled glance. "Just a joke," Miles said.

  Kieran fought Felicity, and she had to put him down. "Not a joke! He said you wouldn't ever have me, Sissity. He hurt me. I can't honor my father. I can't. I don't care what the Bible says! I don't care!"

  Miles pulled him into his arms. "You don't have to, Kieran. And he'll never hurt you again. I promise it."

  The boy clung to him, sobbing.

  Felicity reached for her son, but another panicked shriek ripped through the air. She stared ahead and saw Rupert change direction again, tormented by a river of sinuous, predatory bodies. He screamed for help.

  "We should do something," she whispered.

  "No," said Miles firmly. He stood with Kieran in his arms and put an arm around her. It was confining as well as comforting.

  "What of my freedom now?"

  After a moment, he withdrew his arm. "You are free. But if you try to save that weasel from his fate, I'll doubt your sanity."

  Rupert's voice was shrill now, panicked, cursing and pleading. Felicity gripped her hands together and stayed still. He deserved this, and it was strangely right that the cats be his doom.

  Clouds drifted over the moon so she could hardly see anything, but she heard a wilder scream and a splash which must mean the cats had finally driven him into the bog.

  From the hiss, one would almost think he'd been hot iron plunged into a bucket. The hiss of an army of cats.

  "Is it deep there?" Miles asked.

  "Very." Then Felicity gasped when something brushed her ankle. She looked down to see Gardeen.

  She picked up the small cat and stared into glinting eyes. "I don't want to know anything about this."

  Gardeen just meowed, then leaped over to where Kieran was still in Miles's arms. With that comfort and guard, the boy demanded to be put down. He seemed to already be shaking off his terrifying experience.

  Felicity looked out over the field and saw the cats, like the night-predators they were, slipping silently away in the dark. "Surely there were more cats here than even Annie has."

  "And Colum said she would have revenge on anyone who hurt one of her cats. But cats can't..."

  "You'd be amazed what cats can do."

&
nbsp; "Not anymore. Stay here," he said to all of them and went forward to look at the pool.

  He returned in a few moments. "We'll have to drag to find the body." He helped Felicity onto the horse's back and lifted Kieran up to sit with her, Gardeen in his arms. Then he mounted himself, and they walked slowly back toward Foy.

  Kieran didn't seem particularly distressed, but Felicity felt she had to speak of it. "I think your father's dead, poppet."

  "The cats killed him," said Kieran, stroking Gardeen. "I like cats."

  "I don't think they killed him," she lied, "so much as he was scared of them and ran into the bog to escape them."

  "I'll bet they killed him. He killed the kitchen cat at home when he found it above stairs. Hanged it."

  Felicity held him close and gave up trying to whitewash the case.

  When they reached Foy, they found Annie once more attended by cats and actually caring for Liam in the kitchen, for the man had been found in the garden knocked out cold.

  "I'm terrible sorry, sir," said Liam. "I heard a shriek and saw a cat looking injured. When I bent to care for it, someone knocked me out."

  Since there was no sign of Rupert's having an accomplice, Felicity couldn't help looking at Annie, who was the one most likely to be assisted by a cat.

  But what point was there in stirring such matters now?

  * * *

  The next day, Rupert's body was recovered and taken to Loughcarrick. Sir Dennis Yeates, the local magistrate, quickly declared the death an unfortunate accident. Funeral arrangements were left in the hands of the Loughcarrick servants, who all seemed delighted to have the task.

  Felicity and Miles prepared to return to Kilgoran.

  Felicity tried to talk of the affair to Annie, but the older woman had once more turned vague. The only thing she said to the point was, "It will be a great relief to the area to have that man gone."

  Chapter 27

  The second time Felicity drove up to it, Kilgoran Castle was not quite as startling. She pictured prime horseflesh roaming the extensive pastures, and could almost imagine becoming fond of it. The interior was improved, too. With three days to the wedding, some guests had already arrived and mere numbers were taking the chill off the place.

  "There's to be sixty guests," said Aideen with a slightly wary look at her son. "I'm sure you'd rather a simpler affair, but Kilgoran insisted."

  "I can bear anything," said Miles, "just so long as it is done."

  Felicity silently echoed that.

  She found that Lady Aideen had the arrangements well in hand, so she spent her time boating with Kieran or playing cricket with him, Miles, and Liam.

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  All waiting must end, however, and Felicity's birthday and wedding day finally arrived, accompanied by brilliant sunshine and the first aching green of spring.

  The green of hope.

  The green of fast-running desire.

  Even Kilgoran Castle was mellowed by the host of guests and their servants. The cream of the Irish aristocracy was present, and Miles was supported by the Marquess and Marchioness of Arden, Sir Stephen Ball, and Lord Amleigh.

  Felicity's wedding dress was a silvery green, embroidered in silver and seed pearls. Beth attended her, supervising the dressing of her hair and putting on the pearl jewelry.

  "Are you nervous?" Beth asked in surprise. "You seem tense."

  "Nervous?" echoed Felicity. "I'm just desperate!" Then, when the other woman laughed, she blushed and hid her face in her hands.

  But it was true.

  These last few days had perhaps been the hardest, for there had been nothing to do but wait. There had not even been any worries to distract her.

  Rupert was dead.

  Kieran's birth was a secret that would never be told.

  She was safe and could at last hope for true happiness.

  And that was what had made the waiting so hard. Every day, every hour, the thought teased her that all barriers were gone. They were to marry. There was no reason to wait.

  Except that they had set themselves this test, like heroes of old, that they would prove worthy of the greatest prize by being true and honorable despite temptation. They would not be like Diarmuid and Grania, stealing happiness at the expense of others or against the moral code.

  They would wait until the sanctioned time.

  Aching need had been the price they'd paid, but there had been rewards. The waiting days had provided opportunities to talk, to think, to learn in silent ways the secrets of each other's soul.

  But now, as she said, the time was close and she was desperate.

  Why had they agreed to this foolishly immense affair? They could have gone to the chapel, said their vows, and been done with it. Instead, there was to be a long ceremony—with a choir, no less—followed by a reception for the honored guests and another in a nearby village for the tenants.

  People had apparently gathered from miles around to catch a glimpse of the next earl and his bride. Though they were to be married at noon, they'd be lucky to be alone before midnight.

  When Felicity checked herself in the mirror before going down, however, she was pleased to be so fine for this special day.

  For Miles.

  The color suited her, and the simplicity of the cut lent her dignity. The delicate lace veil muted the strong black of her hair. Today, she was not a warrior-queen, and she hoped never to have to fight again.

  Certainly not to fight against Miles.

  The Castle chapel was not big enough to hold all the guests, so the ceremony was to take place in the ballroom. As she entered, Felicity smiled to see Kieran in a fine silk suit holding a cushion bearing the ring. Beside him sat a small black cat with a white ribbon around its neck.

  And beside both of them was Miles, smiling back at her as if she were the most wonderful creature in the world.

  No woman deserved to be so loved.

  Except that she loved him just as much.

  Though she was trying hard to be demure, she couldn't help the enormous grin that stretched her face. Though she tried to walk with slow dignity, the old wildness surged in her and she picked up her skirts and ran into his arms.

  As the congregation burst out laughing, he swung her around in a great swirl of perfumed silk and lace.

  When he put her down, she hid her face in his shoulder. "I'm never going to be a suitable Countess of Kilgoran."

  He tilted her chin so she met his smiling eyes. "You're going to be a perfect Countess of Kilgoran. Let's take the first step."

  And her smile broke free again. They had suffered their trials, won their battles, and deserved this triumphant moment.

  The dignified clergyman's lips were twitching as he performed the service. The choir's songs seemed to truly be a paean of joy. When the minister gave Miles permission to kiss the bride, Miles took it to heart and kissed her most enthusiastically. After they'd signed the register, they led the party to the reception in the drawing room.

  Though the earl hadn't felt able to attend the ceremony, he was at the reception on a daybed. He blessed their union, then settled to talking politics with all his old cronies.

  The three visiting Rogues all kissed the bride enthusiastically, but then there were just many, many hours of smiling at strangers before Miles and she could be together in sanctioned bliss.

  But she could wait.

  Finally, he was hers.

  Hers, for eternity.

  * * *

  It wasn't midnight, but darkness had long since settled by the time Felicity could go to her room and prepare for bed. It was a new room, one adjoining Miles's suite and decorated in a strongly Chinese style. She didn't care about decor, however, only that Miles come to her soon.

  She hurried her maid through the undressing, but then found herself having to wait, trembling slightly, dressed only in a fine silk nightgown.

  The trembles were not fear, but need.

  Biting her lip, she realized Miles
was probably waiting, too, making sure she had long enough.

  How ridiculous.

  She thought of going to him, but really, just once, she should act the proper lady. And anyway, how could she know he wasn't involved in some strange male rite? A fine scene it would be for her to walk in on the Rogues when dressed only in transparent silk.

  She looked at herself in the mirror.

  Truth to tell, she looked enticing. The fine silk only veiled her body, and her hair was a dark cloud. Her eyes were deep dark with desire, too, and her cheeks flushed with it.

  She suspected, however, that a bride was supposed to be pale with apprehension rather than rosy with lust.

  When Miles came in, she said, "Do you mind that I'm not a virgin?"

  He laughed. "What?"

  She was in his arms. "A man deserves a virgin bride."

  "As punishment for his sins?" He threaded his hand into her hair and made her look up at him. "A muirnin, I'm anticipating a night of pleasure I would never even contemplate with a virgin bride."

  She surrendered to his searing kiss, tangling her hands in his hair to hold him close for her own possession.

  Mine.

  He slid his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, pulling her hard against him.

  Mine.

  "Sure and silk is a marvelous fabric," he murmured, sliding it over her skin.

  She dragged open his robe to press hand against flesh. "You'll have to dress in silk for me then."

  He laughed against her neck, nibbling her. "For you, mo chroi, anything."

  She pushed off his robe and stood back to study him, aware of the way her breathing wavered.

  Aware of his.

  Hand to muscular chest—rising, falling—down over belly, over navel... touch his full erection, lightly, gently, teasing the leashed power.

  "And isn't it interesting," she murmured, delighting in the way he quivered under her tormenting, "that what we are about to do is blessed by God and man?"

  "Fair warning," he said, brushing an unsteady hand equally lightly over her sensitive nipples. "Some of it might not be."

  It sent a shiver through her, but she still didn't go into his arms, wanting to see how long, after such long waiting, he could wait.