Dangerous Joy Read Free Page A

angle to the opening, but it was dry inside. Miles was pushed down onto the ground and his feet were tied again.
    "Someone'll come by later to let you free. If you're wise, you won't make trouble then or later."
    At that moment, Miles would have tried to strangle anyone who loosed him, so he did see their point. Time probably would calm him a little, but he sent silent curses after them as they left him in the damp, musty dark.
    He slumped back against the stone of the empty hearth, counting his bruises. There weren't too many. It was presumably just bad luck that he'd been with Dunsmore, and the rascals had been as gentle with him as they could.
    He assumed they were the Farmyard Boys, who'd been operating around the eastern counties for the past few years, visiting sharp retribution on any landlord who oppressed his tenants or on any Irishman who sided with the English. True, the English yoke lay heavy on Ireland, with harsh laws and twenty-five-thousand soldiers to enforce them, but these vigilantes were not the way to improve anything.
    All the same, if Argonaut were all right, he'd let the matter pass.
    As darkness sank from dusky to deep, Miles's forbearance thinned. His bonds chafed his wrists. He was turning numb in some places and cramped in others. The gag stretched his lips and leached all the moisture from his mouth.
    He began to shiver, for it was a chilly January evening.
    Damn their black hearts! Despite the pain, he began to work at the ropes around his wrists, hoping to loosen them enough to wriggle his hands free.
    When he heard a sound outside, he stopped. About bloody time, too!
    Then he wondered why he was so sure the person was coming to help. He was, after all, a witness of sorts...
    The broken-hinged door creaked open, showing a dark shape backed by the lighter gray of a misty night. The shape crept forward, scarce making a sound other than the brush of a cloak against the dirt floor.
    Something was put down with a clink.
    A weapon?
    Uselessly, Miles tensed for combat.
    Chapter Two
    It was a lantern, for a window was opened to spill golden candlelight into the shanty. The light haloed around the cloaked figure who had just placed the lantern on a wormy shelf on the wall.
    Something in the cut of the cloak and the shape of the hands told him his reliever was a woman.
    He let out his breath in relief. A clever move, for no matter how angry he was, he was unlikely to take it out on a woman. What were the odds that she was a pretty winsome piece, to boot?
    She pushed back the hood of her cloak to prove him right-thick red curls, a heart-shaped face, and stunning dark eyes full of warmhearted concern.
    "Oh, you poor creature!" she declared hands clasped before an ample bosom like the more maudlin type of Madonna. Her voice marked her as a peasant, but it was a pleasant voice all the same.
    He would have said something polite if he hadn't had a damn gag in his mouth. Was she simple? She continued to just stand there looking at him in melting sympathy.
    He made some protesting noises, and she gasped. "Oh, your mouth, sir! Indeed, sir. I'll have you free in just a moment, sir. Don't concern yourself!"
    She ran over to undo his gag. But instead of going behind him, as would be sensible, she stretched from the front, bringing her chest to within inches of his face. He was practically smothered by soft warm flesh and the sweet perfume of roses.
    "Oh, they've tied this rag so tight, the monsters! How could they be so cruel?"
    She leaned even closer.
    Saints preserve them both but it was a very well-endowed chest, and she was wearing an old-fashioned laced bodice which confined only the lower part of her breasts while pushing them up. The generous upper part was covered only by a shift made fine by many washings.
    Miles was not really in a situation to be thinking amorous thoughts, but his body reacted all on its own to this excess of magnificence.
    For a peasant she smelled remarkably sweet, too, with a warm