"MacAllister - 04 - Midsummer's Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacGregor Kinley)

took both their lives away from the thought of matrimony.
Nay, neither he nor Stryder would ever marry. There were too many other lives
that depended on both of them. Too many others who looked to them for
protection.
A wife would never understand their commitments.
Stryder joined him, and they headed back toward the tents. "Just promise me one
thing, Simon."
"And that is?"
"That on the day I pledge my troth to a woman, you'll run me through."
Simon laughed at that. "You'd rather be dead than married?"
Stryder's face turned deadly serious. "Aye, I would."
Simon nodded in understanding. As his mother had, so had Stryder's mother died a
violent death during her son's childhood. It had been one of the things that had
forged their friendship years ago, a shared tragedy that allowed them to
understand each other.
Over the years, even more tragedies had bound them closer than brothers.
"Very well. But I still say a betrothal is just what you need in order to deal
with your legion of rabid admirers. A wife would ease them back and allow you
some time to go about your business without ladies throwing themselves at you."
The humor returned to Stryder's eyes. "Hmmm, a lady wife. Find me a wench with a
level head whom I can be tempted by, Simon, and I might take you up on that."
Frankfurt, Germany
Three months later
The roar of the crowd was deafening, but then it always was whenever Stryder of
Blackmoor took the field.
Knights were dressed in full tourney armor as they were introduced by the
heralds to the eager crowd that had gathered for today's sport.
Simon stayed in the background, watching Stryder's back as he always did. It was
what he was best at. His brother, Draven, had oft referred to him as his anchor.
While others sought glory and fame, Simon sought only to protect those he loved.
He had learned long ago that glory and riches meant nothing while standing over
the grave of someone who was dear. Neither brought comfort or warmth.
Neither brought true happiness.
Only friendship and brotherhood did that.
And, of course, love.
Simon didn't need troubadours to write songs about him. He held no desire to
make any woman swoon.
Except for one.
She whose name he dare not say because she was the one thing he could never
have.
Long ago, in a barren land, when he'd been nothing more than a starving boy
yearning for home, he had made a promise that, so long as he lived, he would
spend his life helping others return home to the families that loved them.
Home. It was the one thing he'd lacked growing up. Aye, Draven had loved him,
but as children they'd had no real home. Ravenswood had been harsh and
frightening.
Normandy had been endless and unfriendly, and even now he didn't want any
thoughts at all of Outremer.
The only thing Simon had ever been able to depend upon was the three men whom he
considered his familyЧDraven of Ravenswood, Sin MacAllister and Stryder of