Dangerous Joy

by Jo Beverley

  * * *

  The evening, too, went much as the night before, with Felicity going off to read to Kieran and not returning to the company. Miles, desperately anxious for the real part of the night to begin, was forced by courtesy to spend two long hours playing whist with his mother, his stepfather, and Annie Monahan.

  He rather feared Annie was staying to keep an eye on him and Gardeen and hoped she wasn't taking up permanent residence. Gardeen was watcher enough. She lay curled in front of the fire, but whenever Miles looked over, the cat's silver eyes were upon him as if she didn't trust him not to disappear.

  He still hadn't worked out a rational explanation for the cat's existence, never mind deciding whether it had a part to play in his affairs. He fervently hoped Gardeen wasn't going to interfere in whatever happened tonight, though.

  He thought the game might drag on until midnight, but eventually Annie announced that she was going to bed since she must return to Foy the next day. She pushed away from the table. "The poor cats will already be distressed."

  "I'm sure they will," said Aideen as everyone rose politely. Miles tried hard not to show his relief.

  "I must say," added Aideen, "that having Gardeen around almost inclines me to having a house cat."

  "An excellent idea." Then Annie fixed Miles with a look. "But you had better not be careless with yours again or I will not be accountable."

  He raised his hand in a fencing gesture. "I promise."

  She nodded and trundled out.

  Aideen gathered the cards. "She certainly grows quite ferocious on the subject."

  "A truer word was never spoken," declared Colum, sinking back into his chair. "Miles, my boy, if you value your skin, don't let harm come to that little creature."

  Miles sat, too, studying his stepfather with a frown. "Very well, Colum, let's hear your opinion about Gardeen and the cat that was buried."

  "Opinion?" Colum's eyes widened. "Faith, you want an opinion on such matters? I suppose I would have to say that cats have nine lives."

  Miles knew there was more to it than that. "But according to Annie, a person only gets to share one of them."

  "Sure and that could be true. After all, there do always seem to be those cats that just appear. But cats are just cats."

  "That isn't what you said a moment ago."

  "I was saying that cats are not just cats to Annie."

  For once, though, Colum seemed almost agitated. Interesting. Very interesting.

  Miles snapped his fingers. He wasn't at all sure the cat would respond, but after just enough hesitation to preserve her dignity, Gardeen pranced over and leapt elegantly onto his lap.

  "So, little guardian, I wonder how many lives you have exhausted."

  Gardeen said nothing to the point, however, and since Miles's mother was looking at him strangely, he carried the mysterious feline up to bed.

  "And now," he said to Gardeen as they entered the room, "begins the interesting part."

  The cat showed no excitement, however, but curled into a neat circle in front of the fire and appeared to go to sleep.

  "Is that a good omen or a poor one?" Miles was saying as Hennigan came in.

  "I beg your pardon, sir?"

  "Nothing," said Miles hastily. Faith, but he'd end up in Bedlam before this was done. As soon as he was ready for bed, he sent Hennigan away, set his door slightly ajar, chose a book, and settled to staying awake.

  Staying awake shouldn't be a problem, for he'd been truthful about two restless nights. But now, with the contrariness typical of such times, weariness crept over him.

  Midnight chimed, and he yawned. When would she come if she came? Could he risk stealing a nap?

  No.

  Would he be too exhausted if she came in the middle of the night?

  No.

  Could he fall asleep at such a cost?

  Quite possibly.

  He nudged the cat with his slippered toe. "Ho there, Gardeen. Can't you think of a way to keep me awake?"

  The cat stirred for a moment and opened its eyes. Then it settled back to sleep, its stomach rising and falling with mesmeric tranquility.

  Miles settled to reading Oedipus in the Greek, hoping the challenge would keep him awake.

  * * *

  Felicity read to Kieran, then stayed with Mrs. Edey in her room for a while, chatting of this and that. She knew she was putting off the time when she must return to her own room and temptation.

  Eventually, however, she had to leave this sanctuary. As she went to her room, she heard voices below and knew the others must still be up. That was good. Perhaps she could fell asleep before the question even arose.

  She prepared for bed and settled into it, feeling for some reason that she should prove to the maid that she had no intention of going anywhere else.

  She wished she could prove it to herself.

  Good sense left no room for doubt. A virtuous young woman, a sensible young woman, would stay safe in her bed tonight.

  In fact, she'd lock the door!

  So why was the desire to leave this bed, to slip down the corridor just two doors, as powerful as the fiercest itch?

  Felicity turned over and arranged her pillow, willing sleep to come and take all choice away.

  It didn't.

  She must have turned a score of times before she heard Annie thump up the stairs to her room. Not long after, she heard other footsteps. Soon, lying flat on her back, open eyes staring at the shadowy ceiling, she knew the house was settled for the night and the decision time had arrived.

  She had no moral qualms at all. That time in the billiard room did not lie on her conscience, and no awareness of sin kept her from Miles's bed. She was a sorry case; but having had her virtue stolen from her so young, she could not feel fervently on the subject.

  Her only hesitation was because she would not again risk becoming pregnant. She placed her hands over her abdomen, wondering if already a disastrous child grew there. Because Rupert had been so convincing in his assurances that she could not become pregnant by him, it had taken her months last time to realize she was carrying a child. If there'd been signs in the early days, she'd missed them entirely.

  Miles had promised that if she went to him tonight there would be no additional risk, but Rupert had promised no risk, too. Men would say anything to get their way. Why should she trust Miles Cavanagh?

  But she did, deeply and absolutely. She trusted his given word.

  Her hands moved over her body, over belly, breasts, and down between her thighs, summoning in mild form the pleasure he could bring her. But in truth, it wasn't that wild pleasure she longed for. It was the closeness of two bodies together, skin to skin, breath to breath, of soft words whispered in the dark, all barriers down.

  If they could just lie together in the warmth of his bed and talk, she could imagine nothing sweeter, even though they could not talk of the most important thing....

  She was out of the bed without thought, pacing her room, uncertain of the next step.

  But sure she would go.

  She pulled on her loose nightrobe of soft cream wool, then, impulsively, dropped it to strip off her nightgown. She looked in the mirror, startled by her own pale shapeliness in the firelight. Studying herself, she unplaited her hair. When it was a dark cloud around her shoulders, she pulled on the wrap again and warily opened the door into the corridor.

  The house was silent except for the ticking of clocks. A small lamp burned on the wall, but it scarcely raised the darkness to gloom. Taking a deep breath, Felicity slipped barefooted along the carpet runner to Miles's door.

  For a moment, a devastating moment, she thought it was closed. But then she saw that it was the tiniest bit ajar.

  She hesitated, prudence urging her to turn back, to return to her own bed where her purpose could not be weakened.

  But her heart urged her onward, arguing that she deserved this brief joy.

  With a gentle touch, she eased the door silently open.

>   And what was she going to do if the wretch were fast asleep and snoring?

  He was not. But he was staring into the fire, a finger between the pages of a book, and did not hear her quiet entry. It was Gardeen who raised her head and meowed.

  He looked around sharply, and then a smile of such sweetness lit his face that tears came to her eyes. He held out a hand and she went to him.

  "This is not a good idea, Miles Cavanagh."

  "It seems a grand idea to me, a muirnin."

  How could a woman respond so powerfully to the touch of a man's hand? It was the one area where men and women were allowed to touch. Though usually gloved.

  His thumb rubbed against hers. "Why did you come?"

  "I'm bewitched."

  He glanced down and nudged the black cat with his slipper. "Is this your doing then, Gardeen?" The cat stirred to her feet and stretched, but then ran across the room to leap onto the windowsill. "At least she's not going to fight me off you this time."

  A jolt of alarmed desire went straight through Felicity. "You said..."

  "I said I'd put you in no risk of becoming pregnant. There are many things for a man and woman to do that carry no risk at all." He tugged her gently into his lap. "You are quite an innocent, aren't you?"

  To be cuddled on his lap, warm fire toasting her back, was as close to heaven as Felicity could imagine, but she had to disturb it. "You know I'm not."

  He stroked her hair. "You're not ignorant or untouched. But innocence, yes, you still have some of that. As have I, thank God."

  She shifted enough to look up at him. "Innocence?"

  "Freedom from the darker side of sex. I have a friend who explored that land, and he still bears the scars."

  Felicity wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she had to admit that, though she felt scarred by betrayal and loss, the physical activities she had shared with Rupert Dunsmore had not been such as to scar her, body or soul.

  Perhaps she should be grateful for that.

  It was late and she was more comfortable than she could ever remember being. She let her eyes drift shut.

  He nipped her ear. "Did you really come here to sleep?"

  Felicity stirred almost resentfully. "Yes. This is so pleasant, and there isn't much else we can do, is there?"

  A smile twitched his lips. "We can kiss before we sleep."

  "I suppose we can do that."

  She met his lips willingly, sweetened by the knowledge that this wasn't a prelude to seduction, but a dish taken for its own delights. Once or twice, she supposed, Rupert had kissed her like this before he'd persuaded her into other matters. Once they'd become lovers, he'd hardly bothered.

  Since Rupert, she had allowed no man the privilege of deep kissing until Miles had burst through her resistance.

  Astonished by the intensity coming just from a kiss, Felicity moved her hands to Miles's shoulders and explored the shape of him as she tasted him, breathed with him, became one with him.

  She was only distracted when he rose with her in his arms.

  It almost hurt to separate her lips from his. "What are you doing?"

  "We'll be more comfortable in the bed."

  She stiffened. "But we can't..."

  "We can do as much or as little in the bed as in the chair. Just in more comfort. Trust me."

  She relaxed enough to allow him to slide her between the covers, still in her wrap. He joined her there. His body brushed her hand, and she realized he was naked.

  She sidled away. "You wouldn't..."

  He captured her hand and kissed each finger. "I wouldn't what?"

  "Trick me? Seduce me?"

  "I should beat you for suggesting it. Don't you have my word?" He wasn't angry, but he appeared serious.

  "Give it to me again."

  "Felicity, I promise I will do nothing here tonight that might cause you to conceive a child."

  She relaxed and he drew her back close to him. He loosed the tie of her wrap so it spread open to his hand. Concealed by the covers, he explored her belly, her thighs, her breasts. It was the same journey her own hand had taken not so long ago, but different, so different. Her eyes drifted shut to savor the delicate pleasure.

  She was so relaxed that he had only to nudge her thighs for them to spread, allowing his fingers into her.

  Her eyes shot open and her thighs tried to close.

  "Easy, my white swan," he murmured. "My fingers cannot impregnate you. But they can do almost anything else." And he set about proving it.

  "Oh my," she gasped.

  When he lowered his head to suck on her breast, she clutched his hair and surrendered to the wonderful building passion, trying to stifle her noises for fear of discovery.

  For fear of interruption.

  If anything interrupted...

  Nothing did, but as if he sensed her imminent release, he slowed his hand, holding her on the trembling edge until she begged, until she pleaded, half-laughing, half-crying.

  Then, only then, did he give her ecstasy.

  Limp, sticky, and sated, Felicity curled against him. "It's amazing to me that people risk babies at all."

  He laughed. "Perhaps there are not so many men as noble as I." His clever hand began to roam again, but she seized it.

  "We wouldn't want you to get too full of your own nobility now, would we?" Pushing back nervous uncertainty, she slid her hand down to encircle his hot, hard flesh.

  A spasm rippled through him.

  "Does that hurt?"

  "I wouldn't exactly call it pain."

  Feeling amazingly more wicked than she had even the first time she had let Rupert enter her body, Felicity moved to straddle his thighs, putting both hands around him. Watching his face, she slid his skin up, then down.

  His lips parted and perhaps an almost-silent groan escaped.

  "Is this all right?" she asked, repeating the movement.

  "I'll scream when it's not."

  She giggled and, as an experiment, lowered her lips to his small, flat nipples to tease them with her teeth.

  "Struth!"

  She looked up. "Was that a scream?"

  He grinned at her, eyes dark and heavy-lidded with passion. "You'll know when I scream. But you might want to think about what to do when I erupt."

  For a moment she was confused, then she said, "Oh. I shouldn't be doing this?"

  "I didn't say that."

  She moved her hand almost absent-mindedly. Then stopped. "It would make a mess of the bed, I suppose."

  "The servants would just assume I'd been doing this to myself, terrible sin though it is and sure to turn a man blind."

  "Oh, is this what men are not supposed to do?"

  He stifled laughter. "You are an innocent. Do you mean you've never touched yourself that way?"

  Felicity knew she was blushing. "A little. I never knew, though, that I could... could do it all."

  "I wouldn't say you can do it all. Now, are you going to leave me here between heaven and hell?"

  The feel of his thighs between her legs made her squirm, which distinctly made his hips tense.

  This was fascinating.

  She moved her hand a little and saw his breathing change. "But what am I to do?"

  "You're a resourceful woman. I leave it, literally, in your hands."

  As a response to that bad joke, she leaned to set her teeth in the flesh around his nipple, to bite sharply enough to make him jerk. All over.

  "You'd better make up your mind," he said unsteadily.

  She didn't want to leave him, but she ran over to the wash-stand and returned with a towel. Then, watching his face, she used her hand again.

  He kept his eyes on her as long as he could, speaking mysteries she couldn't understand except at the deepest levels of her soul, where such things are real. His grip on her legs would leave bruises, but she didn't mind the pain.

  She almost reveled in it.

  He arched, raising her as if she were riding.

  She forced
him down again, fighting him, sensing how that excited him.

  Knowing it excited her.

  She ached, almost losing control and going with him on his journey.

  When she saw his skin flush and dew with sweat, heat rushed along her own nerves, setting her skin atingle with a similar heat, her breathing as desperate as his.

  It would be so easy to move a little, to take him into her ache....

  But no. She had strength enough to resist that.

  Remembering his touch on her, she slowed. He groaned, teeth gritted, gripping tighter at her thighs. "Now, now..."

  She gave in to his pleas, but almost forgot the cloth. Then, she watched his slow return to self and sanity.

  When his sated eyes opened, she teased, "Sure and I still can't see why people risk unwanted babies, for that was very interesting indeed."

  "Interesting, was it?" He flipped her on her back and covered her. "You've forgotten all too soon what it's like to share that, mo chroi. And, for my sins, I'm honor-bound not to remind you."

  But his kiss reminded her, and her body began to tell her, rather insistently, that fingers were not the real thing.

  She pushed him away. "No!"

  He froze. "What's the matter?"

  "My body wants more."

  He relaxed and kissed her again. "So does mine. But bodies can be ruled. Or appeased. Let me destroy a little more of your innocence...." And he slid his mouth down over her breasts and over her belly to between her legs.

  "Oh no..."

  He stopped. "No?"

  She breathed deeply. "I don't know."

  "Scream if you want me to stop," he said, laughter in his voice. The rub of his tongue over her most sensitive spot made her cry out aloud.

  "Was that a scream?"

  "Yes. No. No!"

  "Two out of three wins."

  Afterward, she coiled around him, wishing she could grow into him like ivy on oak. "I never knew..."

  "Never knew what?" he asked, hand wandering over every curve.

  "This. All of this." Then suddenly she was ashamed. "Miles," she whispered, "I don't think I can do that to you."

  He pulled her closer. "A muirnin, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And besides, I heard a clock strike two. Don't you think it's time for sleep?"