Dangerous Joy (37 page)

"Do you say so!" exclaimed Greshingham. "Thought such matters were past. But I suppose it's Irish business. You never know with the Irish... Well, then, you're right to keep her safe, but surely she can ride, Cavanagh. I'll tell you what. We must gather next Sunday, the lot of us. Thirty or so sturdy Englishmen. That'll ensure her a jolly ride, all afternoon if she's up to it!"

Felicity bit her lip and didn't dare look at anyone.

"Well, Felicity?" asked Miles, sounding strangled.

She resisted the temptation to make matters worse. "I thank you for the suggestion, my lord. Perhaps Beth and Blanche would like to join us."

Beth quickly raised a hand. "Neither Blanche nor I are particularly fond of the exercise." Then she rolled her eyes slightly, showing she had certainly caught on to the double meanings.

Felicity grinned at her. "Oh, I'm sure you're learning remarkably since your marriage." Miles's kick on her ankle was much more forceful and she had to suppress a yelp. She supposed that had been beyond the bounds.

Beth's lips were twitching, though. "Oh, true. Lucien insists on it. It is one of his favorite activities, after all."

"Wise man, wise man," said Greshingham. "Riding is healthy. Stimulating, you know." Hastily, he added, "In moderation, of course, for a lady."

"Oh," said Felicity. "We ladies can bear a little stimulation now and then..."

"Are you going to even attempt to include me in this conversation?" asked Blanche, eyes twinkling, showing she, too, had caught on.

Felicity flashed her an amused look. "I can only say that I am sure you have great natural talent, Mrs. Hardcastle."

Blanche chuckled. "How true! And yet I have never sat a horse in my life."

Greshingham stared at her in horror. "Never, Mrs. Hardcastle? Be glad to mount you myself anytime you have a wish to learn."

Felicity almost lost control then and saw the others struggling.

But Blanche managed to smile at her partner. "That's so kind of you, my lord, but I really think I'm too old to learn new tricks."

After the meal, Felicity found herself dragged into a quiet corner for a lecture on propriety.

"Yes, I know it was wrong to make that remark about Beth, but really, it was all a lot of run. Poor Lord Greshingham didn't understand what was going on at all!"

Miles shook his head. "It's like trying to stop UP a volcano. You'll always find some way to explode into disaster."

Felicity hadn't thought of it that way, but he was right. Her energy seethed, stirred by her fears for Kieran, heated by her desire for Miles. If it didn't find outlet, it exploded unpredictably. "I can't help it. I've never been good at inactivity and waiting."

"Anything else is damn dangerous at the moment. Go to the breakfast room and stay there. Please."

Felicity was happy enough to slip into the relative calm of the breakfast room and take tea with Beth, Blanche, and an ever-changing small group of men. She wondered if they were taking turns out of courtesy or truly welcomed a brief respite from the noise and horseplay in the rest of the house.

Because she had a strong taste for high-spirits, there were moments when Felicity wished to go out and join in, but she had sense enough to know that this was no mixed-company Irish festivity fueled by music and dancing. This was men involved in one of their own strange pagan rites.

Miles never visited the ladies at all.

She suspected he was getting drunk, and worried about the effect of alcohol on male desire. It would not suit her, once she went to his room, to find him out cold and sodden.

As it was, for her the evening was a prelude to passion, and she spent it like a puppet. She smiled and talked, and even played a few hands of cards while white-hot desire raced down her veins and sparkled back up her nerves, causing her to shift in her chair to try to ease the restless ache between her legs.

It was as well Miles didn't come. She'd probably throw him down on the Axminster carpet and rip his clothes off.

Eventually, blessedly, the first men began to leave and others soon followed. Felicity went out into the hall with Beth and Blanche to wave them off. There wasn't a completely steady step among them, and some had to be hoisted half-conscious onto horses and escorted by a groom.

There was still no sign of Miles. Damnation, she'd bet he was out cold under a table somewhere.

As the last ones were being steered in the right direction, Felicity slipped away to find him. If he were soused, she'd throw a bucket of water over him!

She found him alone in the billiard room, in his shirtsleeves, rumpled but potting balls with a skill that did not suggest a fuddled head. He looked up and frowned. "Do you want to play?"

"Yes." But she made no move to pick up a cue.

When he understood, color touched his cheeks. "No," he said and turned to send a red slamming into a pocket.

He missed.

Felicity left, and though she would dearly have loved to see his reaction, she didn't look back. If he were of a mind to be nobly stubborn, there was no point in fighting him head-on.

The house was subsiding restlessly as Felicity headed to her bedroom. Distant clatters told of servants tidying the place; half-eaten food and half-empty glasses stood as ghosts of merriment. Like ghosts, the excitement of the party still wove through the air, and she suspected that everyone felt the same restlessness that she did.

Though hopefully not all in the same way.

Hal passed her with a smiling `good night," heading for the room he shared with Blanche. Felicity suspected his restless energy was very like her own.

She rang for Harriet and prepared for bed but, once ready, she had nothing to do but wait. As she had said, she was not good at waiting; nor was her restless body. She roamed the room, watched by an impassive cat.

Once, Gardeen had stopped Miles from attacking her. Would she prevent Felicity from attacking Miles?

All she heard from the next room was silence. Drat the man. Was he going to stay downstairs all night missing billiard shots? She pulled on her robe, intending to go in search of him, but stopped herself.

That assuredly was not the way.

Because she was listening, she heard Beth and Lucien come up together, talking together softly and laughing once. How wonderful it must be to head toward a loving bed in a leisurely manner, in perfect accord and anticipation.

Then she heard Miles's door close. Someone had entered the next room, but it could be Hennigan. She ran over and put her ear to the adjoining door, trying to interpret the faint sounds.

Then the door closed again and she heard voices. Good. Now she had her bearings. They were both in there. She leaned against the door, for once waiting patiently until sounds told her that the valet had gone.

Now the time had come, her simmering desire was soured by pure fear. Apart from that night at Clonnagh, when she had at least been invited, she had never approached a man in her life.

Well, Joy had, perhaps, but that had been acting. Tonight was no time for acting. It was a time for honest lust.

When she entered his room, Miles's first reaction would almost certainly be that same flat `no." She had to decide how to proceed from there.

Weeping?

Reasoned arguments?

Attempted rape?

With a wry smile at that thought, she studied herself in the mirror. Her high-necked, long-sleeved, flannelette nightgown and plaited hair tucked into a nightcap were hardly the equipment of a seductress.

The cap could go for sure.

Then she undid the plait and brushed her hair out.

The next question was, naked or not?

Sure and a naked body was supposed to drive my man mad, but whatever burned between herself and Miles could sear away plate armor tf it had a mind to.

Could it break down the resistance in a man's mind, though? Miles was determined to be the good guardian and even protect her from herself.

She was damnably tired of being protected.

Before her fears could overwhelm even the power of her need. Felicity turned the key and opened the adjoining door.

Miles looked sharply at her. He was standing by the fire, finally drinking something golden from a glass. His brown-velvet banjan was only loosely cinched at the waist and left no doubt he was naked beneath it. Whether a woman's naked body could drive a man mad or not, a glimpse of this man's naked chest was having a powerful effect on her.

As if he knew, he pulled the edges together and tied the belt more tightly. "What do you want?"

"You."

She could almost see him assume resistance like armor. "What new game is this? You don't want to risk pregnancy. Or have you thought of a way to use another child in this battle?"

"I'm not using Kieran!"

He shook his head. "No, of course not. I didn't mean that. But he's being used." Gently, he added, "We don't want another child at risk, surely. And I told you. I'm sorry, but I cannot promise to be as noble as I was at Clonnagh."

"It doesn't matter." It did, but the wild need was driving her. It was a hunger like to that of starvation, taking no heed of sense or caution.

His hand on the mantelpiece became a fist.

"It matters to me. I know I may not be able to hold you. I won't increase the risk that you'll take my child when you go."

She stepped forward. "Can't we at least touch, kiss? If you knew how I ached..."

He stepped back. "Oh, I know. How can you think I don't?"

"Faith, I love you!"

"And I love you, but we're not talking about love. We're talking about lust. The love won't die, and the lust will wait. There'll be better times than this."

"What if there aren't?" Desperate in the face of his resistance, she began to undo the mother-of-pearl buttons at her throat.

He strode over and seized her hands, imprisoning them in a bruising grip." I will not be seduced." True anger flashed in his eyes. "It's insulting, in fact, that you think the sight of a breast will move me from my course. Do you think you're the only one with any willpower?"

She snatched her hands free. "God, do you know how tired I am of being lectured?"

"Perhaps you should change your ways, then."

"Devil a bit." Before he could prevent it, she slipped her hand inside his dressing gown to stroke him. "Try telling me, Miles Cavanagh, that you're not burning for me."

He moved well out of range. "I've already admitted it." Suddenly he turned away. "Hell and the devil, Felicity, apart from the risk of a child, I'm still your guardian, and I'm trying to do the right thing. If you seduce me-and you could-do you really think it will leave us any the better off?"

"It would give me something..."

He turned, suddenly alert. "When you leave? What are you planning?"

She hastily gathered her wits. "You can't expect me to tell you my plans, now can you?"

"Yes. We're not enemies."

Guiltily aware of Rupert's note, Felicity struck out. "We might as well be, for all the good it does me!"

It was as if she'd hit him. His voice was expressionless when he said, "Felicity, go back to your room and leave the key on my side of the door. I clearly need it more than you."

She'd lost.

She stared at him, seeking another way, a way that would break him. But then she realized at last that anything achieved at such a price would be mere ashes, never flame.

Once in her room, Felicity heard the key turn in the lock. Then, a moment later, she heard her door to the corridor being locked, too. So, she thought wearily, we are back to war. But at least if she weakened and thought of going to Rupert tonight, she couldn't.

She scratched a hole in the frost on the window and looked down the dark driveway to where a coach was doubtless waiting with Rupert growing more and more furious within it. As long as he didn't have Kieran with him, he could choke on fury and she'd be glad of it.

But his rage tonight would be paid for later if she ended up in his power. And she would be in his power unless the Rogues' plan worked. She sent an earnest prayer that by some miracle it would.

Then she shed her wrap and climbed into bed where she relieved her burning body for herself.

It was a poor substitute.

Chapter Twenty-one

The next day everyone seemed to be suffering the after-effects of the celebrations-or in the case of Miles and Felicity, of other things. There was a meet, however, so the men gathered for breakfast in their hunting pink, looking forward to a day spent riding despite a light drizzle and the gloom of a heavy sky.

Felicity, Beth, and Blanche were there, and when the postbag contained no word from Miles's mother, the gloom entered Felicity's soul. Or rather, given her nature, a roiling, threatening storm built there.

"Surely we should have word," she demanded of Miles.

He looked up from the two-day-old copy of the Times that had just arrived. "Not necessarily. It says here that there was a storm in the Irish Sea the day after our crossing. All ships, even the mail packets, were held in port, some for an extra day. Doubtless Dunsmore was delayed by it. Or, even better, caught in it." He smiled. "You can enjoy the thought of him casting up his accounts."