Free Dangerous Joy by Jo Beverley Page B

though. It was almost proprietal. Oh no you don't. You are not getting your hands on another heiress!
    Not that Miles could blame any man for being attracted by Felicity Monahan tonight. She normally favored serviceable garments, but she clearly had finer clothes in her wardrobe. He had been staggered by the first sight of her this evening, adorned as she was by a cream sarsenet creation, the bodice of which did not truly cover her endowments.
    As if unaware of its effect, the minx had cheerfully said, "I know grandfather's death was rather recent, but he hated mourning. I stripped some trimming from this to make it plainer."
    "So I see." The trimming, he suspected, had filled the low neckline.
    "And I am wearing mother's jet beads."
    Indeed she was, and wearing them in what was called the "Greek manner," which meant that the long row of square beads was clipped to the edges of her short sleeves and to the jet brooch which nestled intimately between her breasts. It gave the alarming impression of being solely responsible for keeping the dress from falling off her.
    And of being inadequate for the task.
    Annie had exclaimed at how fine Felicity looked and, indeed, with her hair elaborately dressed, and a black-and-silver silk shawl draped elegantly over her elbows, she was fine enough for Dublin. Miles, however, felt a powerful urge to order her to her room to change into something more suitable.
    She's twenty years old, he reminded himself. Many women are married by then. Besides which, his brief tenure as guardian hardly required him to manage her wardrobe. The issue was settled, anyway, by the arrival of the first guests. Miles couldn't help wondering whether Felicity had timed her late entrance with that in mind.
    Just what was she up to?
    Seeking to attract Dunsmore?
    Surely not.
    Seeking to melt the resolve of her guardian?
    Probably.
    She'd love to be able to twist him around her lovely fingers. He still didn't know what her master plan was, but he did know that his intent to take her to England threatened it.
    And he was determined to take her to England, no matter how beautiful and seductive she was.
    Stepping carefully around the cats which continued to attend Annie, Miles went to greet Dunsmore and draw him away from Felicity toward the punch bowl. A soft brush near his ankles told him he had his own small, black attendant.
    Damnation, he'd locked Gardeen in his bedroom.
    "Cavanagh," Dunsmore acknowledged, with a smiling nod, though the smile didn't reach his eyes and looked more like a sneer. Either he did despise his present company or he had a most unfortunate facial tic.
    Miles kept a cheerful smile in place and picked up Gardeen before she was trodden on. "I've had the good fortune to meet your son, Dunsmore. A fine lad."
    At the sight of the cat, Dunsmore stepped back. "Kathleen and I were very fortunate to have such a son." Miles noted then that he was warily tracking the various cats as if he expected them to attack him.
    One of the men by the punch bowl passed Dunsmore a glass. "The Lord smiled on you indeed, sir. Without the child, Loughcarrick would have gone to Kathleen's cousin, Michael."
    "True," Dunsmore agreed, though his jaw twitched.
    That could be because of the cats, however, rather than the comment. Gardeen had established herself on Miles's shoulder, from where she was eying Dunsmore as if he were an intruding but juicy mouse.
    The smiling men had similar expressions. Doubtless they did resent an outsider and an Englishman having at least temporary possession of one of the area's finest estates.
    Miles made sure everyone's glasses were full. "I don't think I've met a Michael Craig. Does he live in this area?"
    "No. In Liverpool." Dunsmore's gaze swept the hostile group. "So, no matter what happens, Loughcarrick will be in English hands."
    "Ah, now, it's blood that counts," someone remarked.
    "Indeed, it is," Dunsmore replied. "And I am proud to be of English blood."
    Miles—quite sure Gardeen