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

pinned by his neck.
Stryder curled his lip in disgust. "These attempts on my life are becoming quite
monotonous."
Simon looked at him drolly. "Pray they don't become successful."
Stryder nodded as he pulled the assassin up. "Thank you, Simon. Christopher and
I will see him to the guards. Would you care to join us in the hall?"
Simon went to touch the ribbon on his arm, only to realize it had been torn off
during the struggle.
His stomach shrank. "Nay, I have something I need to do."
"Not another letter." Christopher moaned. "I swear, Simon, you've gotten to
where you write more than I do, and I'm a minstrel."
Simon didn't say anything as they left him alone. Instead, he searched the
ground until he found the tattered pieces of his ribbon.
Instantly relieved, he clutched them in his hand and pulled the letter out of
his tunic, where he had laced it tightly against his chest.
It had been delivered just this morn as he'd been donning his armor for the
tourney.
He broke the Scottish seal, and as he opened the letter, he found a tiny lock of
brown hair.
Her hair.
He held it tightly in his hand, not wanting to let it go. Lifting it to his
face, he smelled the faintest trace of her scent.
Simon smiled.
Then he eagerly read her feminine script.
My Dearest Warrior,I hope this finds you well and unhurt. I fear the last
messenger you sent will never be bribed to carry another of your letters to me.
It appears I rather damaged him a bit in my enthusiasm to relieve him of his
vellum burden.
I only hope his ankle heals soon.
Your words touched me deeply, and I am truly sorry that you are homesick. I was
going to send you a bit of soil, but thought it might be rather ridiculous to
burden you with such. Not to mention that dirt is rather the same, isn't it? And
if you dropped it, you wouldn't be able to reclaim it.
So I thought perhaps my hair might bring some comfort to you. I hope you won't
notice the bit of singing around the ends of it. I fear I learned a valuable
lesson the day before yesterday.
While daydreaming of you and your last letter, I became distracted in the
kitchen and wasn't paying attention to where I set down the candle.
But I discovered something most important. Larders catch fire rather easily. And
once burned, sandstone is impossible to clean. The cook has banned me eternally
from the kitchen and at first forbade me ever to partake of her services again.
After some consoling, she has at last granted me the right to eat, but only so
long as I swear never again to enter her domain.
I miss you, my dearest. Know that wherever you are tonight, my thoughts and
heart are with you.
Please take care of yourself and may God grant you peace and health until you
find yourself home again with those who love you.
Ever yours,
K
Simon held her letter to his heart. How he wanted this woman. Needed her.