"Beverly Henderson - Stormcrow and The Deer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Henderson Beverly)

lovemaking. She remembered stepping on to the balcony with the
Stormcrow and nervously facing the waiting guests and servants. She
remembered descending the staircase and standing next to him at the
head of the table and someone placing a goblet of wine in her hand. Ah,
yes, the strong strangely sweet wine. She recalled sipping it curiously and
thinking that it tasted of fruit left too long on the vine, then sipping it
again.
Sleepy from the wine and food and tired from the tension of the evening
and stress of meeting so many people, she wavered unsteadily, longing
only to climb between the sheets and snuggle down. Instead she moved to
the chair in front of the fire and sat down in it, curling into herself and
staring at the fire as the girls finished their chores around the room.
Abby picked up a blanket and wrapped it around her and the chair,
warming her as she stared into the fire. "If you need anything else,
anything at all, there is a rope hanging near the bed. Pull it and we will be
here quickly, my lady." They left, gently closing the door behind them.
 Staring into the fire, she watched the flames and thought of how she
came to be in this frightening place, held only by her deep love for the
Lord Crow. In the leaping flames, she saw him - In the castle courtyard,
standing next to a man on a horse, holding on the reins of the horse,
speaking to the man urgently. She saw the man riding off into the
darkness with fifty others, quickly, but as silently as possible. Then, the
fire lulled her tired mind. Slowly, unable to keep her eyes open, she drifted
off to troubled dreams.
She heard, in her dream, a quite voice, murmuring in the night, a surge
of power swelling into the cloud covered sky. Afraid, she opened her eyes
to see the Stormcrow standing by the window, staring out, into the
darkness, his back to her, the voice coming from him, a language so
ancient, long forgotten on many worlds. The power rising in him, she
heard only one word she knows---Phillip.
Sitting quietly, wrapped in her blanket, unmoving, she watched him by
the window, trying to calm her troubled heart. Waiting for him to turn,
she sought the source of her disquiet, but found the details of the dreams
eluded her even as they frightened her, leaving her once more with the
urge to change and flee the castle.
He stopped his power. "It is never easy to send men off to die! I've done
it many, many times. Most of the time, it was necessary; sometimes, it
was stupidity; but I have never liked it. His shoulders tightened as he
stared into the flames.
Banishing her fears firmly and standing up, she moves to stand behind
him, wrapping her arms around him, laying her head against his back.
Sighing, he turned to hold her close, tilting her head up for a gentle kiss
filled with love. Then he stopped and looked at her. "You are beautiful in
firelight, more beautiful in moonlight. And I am a very lucky crow."
Staring somberly into his eyes, she stared back at him, her heart in her
eyes along with her fear for his safety and her need for reassurance.
Smiling at her, lifting her into his arms, he told her, "My deer, do not let
the ramblings of this ancient man frighten you. This battle is already won.
It's just sad the Queen doesn't know it yet!"
Stretching and turning toward the man beside her, she reached out