"Dance of the Rings 2 - Ring of Intrigue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fancher Jane S)

added to his light-headedness.
"Shepherdess," he called her, in memory of their first
mountain meadow encounter, and Shepherdess she re-
mained, as he was JD, or Rags, or any number of other
disrespectful intimacies. Terms that reminded them con-
stantly of their unique relationship, that kept them
grounded in each other and not the political posturing that
drove so many other aspects of their lives.
"Sweet, sweet Maurii," she whispered, throwing her head
back, exposing her neck to his kiss.
He buried both hands in her cropped, windblown hair,
and fastened his lips on hers, met a demanding passion and
vigor that matched his own. Unfortunately, this was neither
the time nor the place, and with a final, penetrating caress,
he reluctantly disengaged.
"I thought you were tending Mikhyel," he murmured,
busying his fingers straightening her hair.
She pulled a strand from her mouth. "Khyel's fine." She
leaned back long enough to free herself of a heavy cloak,
and work it around his shoulders. "You are cold."
"I'm cold," he repeated flatly, thinking nothing could be
farther from the truth. Wet, yes, but cold?
"So he informs me."
A moment's reflection brought realization. "Damn," he
said, and settled the cloak more securely. "I don't feel him
at all."
"Obviously, the effect is not mutual." She insinuated her
hands past his coat and began toying with his shirt buttons.
"He sent me to remedy the problem, after he explained to
that poor bemused gatekeeper why we have no papers.
Oops." A button went flying, clattered to earth somewhere
in the shadows. "Silly law, Rags. Who're you afraid of?"
"One of Mikhyel's ideas, back when he was still an
idiot." His cold (according to Mikhyel) hands found their
way to her linen-covered breasts. Kiyrstin's gasp confirmed
Mikhyel's assessment.
It was a man's shirt she wore, one of Mikhyel's, as were
her supple, black leather breeches. Both an admirable fit,
though her decidedly feminine rump posed a greater and
more interesting challenge to their seams than Mikhyel's
half-starved hips.
"I cannot imagine" Another clatter. "Oops, again,
Rags. I can't imagine why you left him to run the City all
on his own."
Her own chill fingers gained entrance to his chest. He
twitched, but Kiyrstin sighed and flattened her hands, then
breathed on them, hot, moist air that was nearly as mad-
dening as the cold.
"He was good at it. Shepherdess. Good at getting things
done. I only" His breath caught as her mouth followed