Dangerous Joy (35 page)

She slid it into her glove where it crackled against her palm, poking her with its sharp folds. But it would be folly to read it yet, for she could see Miles was still watching her as if she were a novice rider, damn him.

She tested out her horse, giving the mount the slightest command to move. Immediately? it stepped forward smoothly.

"Ah, you beauty." Just a shift in her weight changed its direction, the merest touch of her crop to the right flank turned it the other. It was a perfectly behaved animal and well trained to the sidesaddle.

Of course, she should have expected nothing less. She knew Miles would only choose the best for her.

In horses, at least.

She knew in her heart that he wanted to choose the best for her in everything, but he did not always see the world as she did.

She couldn't resist walking her horse close to his. Miles took in every technical detail with one sweeping glance. "How is he?"

"Beautiful. One of yours?"

"Would I trust you on anything less? He's called Adonis and thinks himself a very fine fellow."

"With reason. He's beautifully trained, and to the sidesaddle as well."

"I generally accustom my horses to it. You never know when some fool man will mount a lady without a moment's consideration..." He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "Will we ever talk of riding again without salacious thoughts?"

Despite everything, she chuckled. "We'll find a way. After all, riding is one of our chief pleasures in life."

With a devastating smile, he said, "And that's the blessed truth."

Soon the company rode out, heading toward a distant field, gradually increasing pace until they might as well have been at a hunt, chasing the fox. Felicity held back, hoping to lose Miles. She knew better in her heart, and sure enough, he was soon at her side.

"Is something the matter?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You're not leading the pack."

"And me on a sidesaddle and all."

"I'd back you to beat most of this crowd, even under a handicap."

Since he clearly wouldn't be shaken, she speeded up.

They were just one field from the rest of the men, who appeared to be gathered around an enormous gibbet.

"What's that?" Felicity asked.

"Believe it or not, it's a quintain. The thing the medieval knights used to train in lance work. Lucien had it constructed a few years ago, and it's become a popular amusement."

Now she could see that the quintain consisted of the figure of a man with arms outstretched, one holding a bag. "How does it work?"

"If the rider hits the center with his lance, the figure gives backward and he can ride past. Anywhere off center and it pivots. Then the bag swings round and hits him."

"It sounds like fun. I want to try."

He looked at her sharply, but then laughed. "Hellion. If you want. Watch awhile first, though. There's a knack to it."

A stack of long poles-the lances-waited to one side, attended by a number of servants. Lucien took one and went first, explaining the procedure for those who hadn't tried before. He hit a little off, but managed to duck beneath the swinging bag.

Miles went next and hit square in the bull's-eye over the figure's heart.

Felicity joined in the cheer.

The next few men all did well, obviously having practiced this in other years. Then someone charged too fast, missed his aim, and was solidly thwacked by a swinging bag. Instead of knocking him out of the saddle, however, it burst, billowing flour and chaff all over him.

Felicity joined in the good-natured laughter, but as a new bag was hooked up, she realized this was probably as good a moment as any to read her note. Almost, she was reluctant, but she muttered `Kieran' like an incantation and slid it out.

She worked it open against her horse's neck, trying to keep it out of sight as much as possible. Miles, for a miracle, had his attention elsewhere, inspecting the last rider's limping horse.

She smoothed the sheet of paper and could read Rupert's odiously familiar elegant script. Another reason she had appalling handwriting, did Miles but know it, was that she never wanted to have handwriting like this.

And he was right, that was childish.

My dearest Felicity, I deeply regret having been so long in rescuing you. I shudder to think what you must have suffered, so deprived of one you love and who loves you just as well.

Kieran, he meant Kieran. She forced down the sudden panic. All he had said was simple truth.

I hear you are kept closely guarded and have already suffered brutal treatment while trying to escape. I'm sure you are anxious not to suffer more of the same.

Another veiled threat. Oh, he was so good at those. But this was a clever letter. If the groom had read it, it would seem to be a communication between separated lovers.

I understand Lord Arden is to take his guests riding. This may provide a chance for us--for I know you will never forgo a brisk ride. If you can slip away unobserved, head east, away from the house. You will come to the Grantham road where I will wait with a chaise. If this fails, you must leave in the night. I will wait close to the drive of Vauxhall.

I know how eager you must be to reunite with one you love so well and who loves you. And you know how much that one will suffer if we cannot be together,

Your devoted husband-to-be.

With a shudder, Felicity refolded the note and slipped it into her pocket. The word suffer was calculated to terrify her.

It was succeeding.

Did he have Kieran with him? She knew the sort of things Rupert would do to the child if thwarted.

If Rupert had Kieran...

Oh, why had Lady Aideen not sent word faster?

Was Rupert watching her now? If he were, he would know she could never slip away from here unnoticed. With relief, she realized she had at least a few hours' reprieve. She could not escape until night.

But, she realized, there was nothing to bar escape. Her room was not locked, and her promise to Miles had been to stay for two weeks or until she heard from Dunsmore. Miles had assumed that when she received a message she would share the news, but that had not been part of her promise.

But if she escaped before the Rogues' plan had any chance, she would be giving up before she had to.

Blanche would be disgusted.

And Miles. She couldn't imagine what it would do to Miles. By her action, she would have rejected him, rejected his help and protection. She would have declared that she could not trust him to help her win.

She would have kept her word but shattered the spirit of their pact.

She looked over to where Miles was inspecting the injured horse's leg, his hands gentle and skillful with the nervous animal. She could tell, even at a distance, how at ease he was with beast and men, how well liked and respected.

He doubtless deserved better in life than an ill-bred hoyden dead set on a mission that could lead to tragedy.

She remembered Beth's describing him as spoiled. He didn't seem spoiled to her. He was the very opposite-spoiled by hardship, still able to find joy in simple things and turn an open, friendly face to the world.

Beth had seemed to think Felicity was a needed medicine to force him out of this blissful state. In fact, she'd give almost anything to join him in joie-de-vivre, joy in the pleasures of living.

She'd give anything but her son.

The injured horse was led off by a groom, and its rider took a spare horse. The attack on the quintain recommenced and Felicity made a decision.

Rupert could damn well wait a day or two. She'd trust Miles's faith in his mother and believe Rupert didn't have Kieran with him. If that were the case, he was toothless.

She'd go further. If a letter came from Lady Aideen putting her fears at rest, she'd share this note with the Rogues.

Lucien rode over, fluid and easy on "his magnificent black. "Miles says you want to try."

"To be sure. I'm in an excellent mood for hitting something."

"You are a hellion, aren't you?" But it was said amiably enough, and she sensed a bewildering trace of admiration and even affection.

She was not sure she could handle any more affection.

She followed him to the pile of poles, and Miles came over as she was finding the balance of the `lance."

"Changing your mind?"

"Devil a bit, but this game was not designed for sidesaddle. It's hard to hold the pole so it isn't banging the poor nag's head. But if I lean too far, I lose my balance."

"Perhaps you'd better leave it. We can come back one day with you in breeches—"

"Give up? Never!"

With a grin, Felicity shifted her grip so she held the heavy pole over her head like a spear. Then, with an Irish battle cry, she urged her horse toward the quintain, concentrating on balance and that bull's-eye on the dummy's chest.

In fact, she saw it as a target on Rupert Dunsmore's chest.

Her arm tired, but she would not let it waver. With another pagan shriek, she thumped the pole into Rupert's heart and rode by in triumph, shaking her pole in victory as all the men cheered.

Miles rode over, laughing. "Ah, my fine warrior-queen, I should never doubt you."

She grinned as she tossed the pole to a waiting servant. "Remember that next time I fight you, my heartless oppressor."

"As long as we're fighting naked in bed, I don't suppose I'll remember a damned thing."

He swung away to ride again at the quintain Using Felicity's technique, leaving her with an aching body and a wild-beating heart.

It was almost as if he rode naked, so aware was she of his fine body, one with the horse, perfectly balanced. How could she ever leave this man?

How could she not if it became necessary?

She shifted in her saddle, realizing she was itching with desire. She'd never experienced such a thing before-to be in the open air, among people, and to be almost in heat.

She felt herself blushing at the thought when she was probably already rosy-cheeked. Faith, and soon everyone would guess. She sincerely hoped humans were nothing like horses, or all these fine stallion males would sense her urges and start pawing the ground and fighting over her!

At that moment, she knew she must have one more night with Miles. Rupert was here and it was possible he would win, that she would have to go to him, even if it cost her Miles.

They deserved one real night of love.

There had been that wild loving in the billiard room, full of wonder and desperation. Then there'd been that last night at Clonnagh, sweet, but achingly incomplete.

She wanted a night of slow pleasure, filled to the brim and drained to the dregs. And it would have to be tonight because she had no idea what tomorrow might bring.

They rode home as dusk fell, radiant with exercise and high spirits. Though Felicity still felt in heat, people couldn't be like horses, for the Meltonians seemed to regard her as one of them.

At Vauxhall, Beth and Blanche were ready to greet everyone with huge bowls of hot punch. The men surged toward the steaming bowls like a river in flood.

"Faith," said Felicity, "anyone would think they'd not drunk in a week."

"Men have such appetites," said Blanche, and Felicity didn't know if there was a double meaning in it or not.

Beth smiled at her. "That was a fine blow you struck for womanhood."

Felicity was startled. "You were there?"

"Oh, no. Blanche and I were lazy. We sat in the nursery, well-wrapped in blankets, sipping tea, watching through the spyglass."

Suddenly alert, Felicity asked, "How well could you see?" Then she quickly added, "Could I try?"

Beth's expression was unreadable. "If you wish. Come." She turned to Blanche. "I'm sure you can handle thirty men, my dear."

"Without raising a finger," said Blanche with a twinkle.

Beth led the way up two stories to the chilly nursery suite and gave Felicity the spyglass. "There's quite a good view."

Felicity focused on the quintain field. The figure hung like a corpse on a gibbet, waiting for future games. The glass was so good she could make out scratches on the paint. She raised the glass to focus two fields over, on what must be the Grantham road, and watched the roof of a coach coast along beyond the high hedge.

The question was, what had Beth seen?

She lowered the glass and turned.

"Yes, I saw," said Beth. "You received a note, didn't you? Also, there was a carriage on the Grantham road most of the afternoon, just moving occasionally to warm the horses."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing. I believe in freedom of action."

"Even for children and poor feeble women not prepared for it?"

"That wasn't a jab at you. When I left the school to marry Lucien, I was completely unprepared for life, and it nearly led to disaster. If you and I were abandoned in some wild place, which of us do you think would survive?"