"Joy, Dara - High 02 - High Intensity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Joy Dara)

For some unknown reason, Tyber had claimed the wizards name was Yaniff. Zanita had shrugged her shoulders. It would not be the first odd thing associated with this man.
After they passed the mazes, the gardens came into view. Though not in bloom during the dead of winter, they still echoed the magnificence that would be theirs in a few months.
The smaller ponds were frozen over.
Zanita grinned as she remembered that she had looked out of an upstairs window a few days ago and caught the cat, Hambone, sliding across the surface on his ample belly. The one-eyed pirate cat seemed to be enjoying it tremendously, for he repeated the antic countless times while she watched.
Tyber had heard her laughing and had come over to the window behind her. His strong arms had embraced her as he pulled her back to him and nuzzled her short curls. "Mmmm, what's so funny out there?"
"Hambone. He's belly flopping across the ice."
She could feel his smile against her hair. "He does that every winter, the bandit."
Now, at night, the ponds were empty of gleefully sinister belly-surfing cats.
A gaggle of Canada-geese flew overhead,
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honking in syncopated gripe as the house came into view. Zanita always wondered why they bothered to fly anywhere if all they did was continually bitch about it. Geesh.
They passed the white gazebo. Once, before the snows had come, Tyber had made love to her there. She shivered at the luscious memory. He had been so incredibly passionate that day. So unbound.
Whatever his state, her physicist lover was always a force to be reckoned with. In the beginning, Tyber had made it his personal mission to "instruct" her on the mystery of physics; or more specifically, the practical applications.
And, oh, what practical applications he invented!
His technique seemed to be working, for damned if she wasn't learning the eggheaded subject. Although she seriously doubted that Newton or Einstein had been referring to what Tyber did when he "illustrated" the priciples.
One thing she knew for certain: when Tyber got that special gleam in his eye, he was preparing to give her one of his "exclusive" lessons. Torrid. Shameless. And with a concept, too. What girl could ask for anything more?
As they rounded the last bend in the cobblestone drive, the house came into view. Like the man, it was unique in every way. A Victorian mansion with seven turrets, it was decorated
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like a true painted lady in multiple shades of pastel colors.
Gingerbread trim bedecked the framework along with intricately carved original woodwork of flowers, ropes, and bows. Decorated garlands, which had been lovingly carved over a century ago, had been lovingly restored by the present owner.
For all his wildness, there was something about Tyber that conveyed a sense of permanence. Even with his maverick ways, the man was someone you could depend on. He had proved that to her during their investigation of Xavier LaLeche. The slick con man had proved no match for Dr. Evans. Tyber had outmatched him both in brains and brawn.
The wraparound porch had been decorated for the winter season with tiny lights strung through the intricate fretwork banisters. Ambient light shone through the beautiful stained-glass windows to dance across the snow-covered ground. It looked charming and warm.
It looked like home.
The car had not even come to a complete stop before the wide wooden front doors were thrown open and an incensed Blooey glared at Tyber from the doorway.
Tyber did not even bat an eye. "Something bothering you, seaman?"
Tyber always took great care to address
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Blooey in the language he preferred. Namely, pirate-speak. That Tyber enjoyed their idiosyncratic exchanges was a moot point. Sometimes lately, Zanita suspected that the strange gleam in the little ex-mathematician's eye was delighted whimsy.
Yep, she was living in a nuthouse.
"We got to do something about that scurvy Hambone, Captain! He being nothing but a common brethren, not like meself, who has been elevated in importance by way of me fine cookinЧ"
"Excellent cooking," Tyber agreed amiably as he helped Zanita from the truck and winked at her.
"Just so, sir." Blooey nodded, causing his cap to list over his right ear. "What are ye going to do wit him, Captain?"
"Do?" They all walked into the hallway. Zanita removed her coat and hung it on the hall tree, her glance going to the inviting fire Blooey had lit in the parlor. Tyber strode over to the hall table to check the mail.
"Aye! Do. The bilge rat needs to be brought to heel, Captain."
Tyber's lips curled slightly at the corners as he continued to peruse his mail, throwing the letters into different to-do stacks. Zanita glanced over at the table and wondered how the man stayed so organized. She had one-hundredth of
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the correspondence he did, and her desk was the leaning tower of Pisa.
"What did he do this time, Blooey, besides belly flop across the just-washed floor?"
Blooey closed one eye and glared at him with the other. It was an expression the little pirate had perfected. Zanita admitted it did make him look as if he were ready to swing a grappling hook, knife clutched between his differentially equationed teeth as he prepared to attack.
"Why, the varmint snatched me potted balls!"
Tyber almost choked. "Your what?"
"Me potted balls, Captain. And right big ones they are, too."
"No doubt," Tyber agreed warily, giving his cook an odd look.
Zanita snickered as she stretched her hands out to the fire, letting the flames warm the chill out of them.
"Not a right thing for a fellow member of the brotherhood to do. What do the articles say about such things, Captain?"
"Hmmm, the articles .. ."