"Terry Goodkind - Sword of Truth 5 - Soul of the Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goodkind Terry)SOUL OF FIRE
by TERRY GOODKIND CHAPTER 1 "I WONDER WHAT'S BOTHERING the chickens," Richard said. Kahlan nuzzled tighter against his shoulder. "Maybe your grandfather is pestering them now, too." When he didn't reply, she tilted her head back to squint up at him in the dim firelight. He was watching the door. "Or maybe they're grouchy because we kept them awake most of the night." Richard grinned and kissed her forehead. The brief squawking on the other side of the door had ceased. No doubt the village children, still reveling in the wedding celebration, had been chasing the chickens from a favorite roost on the squat wall outside the spirit house. She told him as much. Faint sounds of distant laughter, conversation, and singing drifted into their quiet sanctuary. The scent of the balsam sticks that were always burned in the spirit-house hearth mingled with the tang of sweat earned in passion, and the spicy-sweet aroma of roasted peppers and onions. Kahlan watched the firelight reflecting in his gray eyes a moment before lying back in his arms to sway gently to the sounds of the drums and the boldas. produced an eerie, haunting melody that seeped through the solitude of the spirit house on its way out onto the grasslands, welcoming spirit ancestors to the celebration. Richard stretched to the side and retrieved a round, flat piece of tava bread from the platter Zedd, his grandfather, had brought them. "It's still warm. Want some?" "Bored with your new wife so soon, Lord Rahl?" Richard's contented laugh brought a smile to her lips. "We really are married, aren't we? It wasn't just a dream, was it?" Kahlan loved his laugh. So many times she had prayed to the good spirits that he would be able to laugh again- that they both would. "Just a dream come true," she murmured. She urged him from the tava bread for a long kiss. His breathing quickened as he clutched her in his powerful arms. She slid her hands across the sweat- slick muscles of his broad shoulders to run her fingers through the thick tangle of his hair as she moaned against his mouth. |
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