"Linda Evans - Time Scout 2 - Wages of Sin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

If Skeeter Jackson remembered that generous offer two weeks from now-and
followed through on it Marcus mused, he would have done more for Marcus than
he could possibly know. Ever-present worry over finances swiftly captured
Marcus' attention and swept his thoughts far away from the table where his
friend was drinking his beer. Ianira, despite his protests and pride, had
insisted on contributing to his "debt-free-fund a sizeable chunk of her
earnings made by giving historians whatever information she could for the
"primary research source" fees. Ianira also sold genuine ancient Greek recipes
for all manner of cheesecakes, though she had paid for learning to make every
single variety under the whip (and more) in her first husband's house
downtime.
The cheesecakes' delightful flavors and characteristics, Marcus now knew,
had once been discussed in the Athenian Agora as seriously as any philosophy
by the most important men in Athens. Their recipes had been lost for
centuries, but Ianira, hurting still from her husband's brutality, knew them
all by heart, had memorized them in a terror to survive. Now, with amusement
healing old scars, she sold the recipes one by one to Arley Eisenstein, who
gave her a percentage of his profits--substantial, given the cheesecakes'
reborn stunning success.
Ianira made money faster than Marcus had ever believed possible,
particularly after she became the proud owner of a free-standing stall that
catered to the strange and increasingly bizarre "acolytes" who sought her out
as though on pilgrimage. Some of them had paid the price of the Primary Gate
just to look at her, praying she would say something to them. Some even gave
her money, as though she were the most revered being in the world and their
money was the only offering they could give.
Ah, money. When Marcus had tried to refuse her money, out of pride and
dignity, she'd caught his hand and forced him to look at her. "You are my
chosen, my beloved!" Dark eyes held his, burdened with so much he wanted to
erase forever. Neither money nor Marcus could erase the past: brutal marriage
or, worst of all, Ianira's terrifying, heavy, close-held secret knowledge of
the rituals (both public and carefully hidden private), of the many-breasted
Artemis of Ephesus, where she had grown to maidenhood in the world-famous
temple. At that moment, those bottomless eyes flashed with what must have been
the same look that had prompted the rash Trojan prince Paris to risk
everything to flee to the windy plains of Troy with the much-sought-after
Helen as his mistress.
Even in memory, Marcus' head spun hopelessly under the onslaught of that
look. He had, of course, melted utterly at the winning smile that followed,
not to mention the touch of her hands. "I am desperately selfish of you,
Marcus. I do not understand this `honor' of yours, so stubborn to pay off an
illegal debt; but if this money will help fulfill that demand inside you, then
I will be sure never to allow you to deny my help." In a rare gesture of
emotion, she clutched him tight as if afraid to let go. Her uptilted face
revealed a sea of tears bravely held brimming on her eyelashes. Still holding
him, she said in roughened voice, "Please. I know you are proud and I love you
for it. But if I lose you..."
He had crushed her close, trying with everything in him to promise that he
was hers forever, not just the way things were now, with no formal words
spoken, but the correct way, the way of formally taking her as his public wife