Dangerous Joy by Jo Beverley Page A

fond of him, too.
    She turned to Miles, once more thawed by interaction with others. "Mr. Cavanagh, let me make known to you two of our neighbors. This fine lad is Kieran Dunsmore of Loughcarrick, and the lady is Mrs. Edey, his companion. This is Mr. Miles Cavanagh of Clonnagh, who has the great misfortune to be my guardian for a little while."
    Mrs. Edey said all the right things and Kieran shook hands in a well-brought-up way, saying, "Sissity's parents are dead, sir."
    "I know," Miles said.
    "And her grandfather is dead."
    "True enough."
    "So you will look after her?"
    "I'll do my best." Miles could feel the silent objection from his side.
    "My mother's dead," the lad confided.
    "I know. You have my condolences."
    The boy looked solemnly unsure of the word, but said, "I miss her."
    Miles felt a strong urge to hug him. "I'm sure you do. My father died not long ago, and I miss him."
    The boy said nothing, but something in the set of his mouth implied the thought, "I wouldn't mind if my father died." Miles hoped this poor lad wasn't being mistreated by Dunsmore. But if he were, there was nothing an outsider could do about it.
    Felicity stepped forward. "Enough of this sad talk. We mustn't keep you, but if you have time, Mrs. Edey, you must stop at the Hall on the way home. I'm sure Kieran will be ready for a cake and some milk."
    The boy brightened. "Currant cake?"
    She kissed his cheek. "I don't know what we have, poppet, and it's too short notice to make currant cake, even for you." She poked him gently in the tummy so he giggled. "And I don't think there's a cake made you don't like, young man!"
    Mrs. Edey clicked the horse on, and the gig disappeared around a bend, the small lad twisting to wave goodbye to `Sissity." She stood waving, even after the gig had gone, a strangely bereft look upon her face.
    "A fine lad," Miles said, wanting to warn her not to grow so attached to someone else's child.
    "Yes, he is." Then she turned and led the way briskly into the Foy stable yard. "You wanted to see the stallions. We have two. This is Finn."
    Finn was a handsome bay who appeared perfectly made and of a proud but amiable disposition. Miles wouldn't mind using him to cover some of his mares.
    "And this is Brian."
    Brian was a white-stockinged chestnut of equal quality but more highly strung. He moved restlessly when approached and had to be wooed into good humor. Miles liked spirit in a horse, though, as long as it was within control.
    He patted the neck of the now-polite Brian. "Are they Foy horses?"
    "Finn is. He's by Angus Og, who was my grandfather's pride and joy. Angus Og was just a little long in the back, though. Grandfather's attempts to correct that are scattered around Europe, and all are fine horses but short of perfect. Finn was his great success. He's out of Fionuala." She led him over to the paddock gate so they could see the mares at pasture.
    Felicity gave a boyish whistle, and a solid older bay mare raised her head then trotted over with a swish of her tail. The other mares, some twenty of them, followed. Miles had the distinct impression that they wanted to race ahead to greet Felicity, but if Fionuala was trotting with dignity, they had to hold back. There was no doubt who was lead mare in this herd.
    While Felicity greeted the bay, Miles made friends with some of the others, but it was clear that he was just a stopgap for yet more creatures who adored Felicity Monahan.
    "They're a fine bunch. How many do you sell in a year?
    Felicity began to move down the line of horses. "We generally have ten five-year-olds. Geldings and a few mares."
    "The ones you don't fancy for breeding stock."
    "That's right." She rubbed the ears of a white-blazed chestnut. "Eileen here has slipped two foals. We won't try to breed her again, so she'll go to England next year. I hope she goes for a hack rather than a hunter, though. I worry sometimes about the way you men ride the creatures."
    She had turned to face him, and Eileen leant