"Elizabeth Moon - Serrano 3 - Winning Colors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

"And we'll have each other later, or we won't, and we'll survive either way. Be reasonable, Ronnie: you got
your aunt out of the building, but it was Brun who thought up the hot air balloon. Neither of us could have
been that crazy."
True, but he wanted to be crazy enough to live with Raffa the rest of his life, starting this moment. He started
to say he'd wait for her forever, but he knew she might not. And he might not either, really. "I don't want to
leave you," he said fiercely. "I don't want to lose you."
"Nor I." For a moment she clung to him with all the passion he desired, then she pushed herself away and
was gone, her light footsteps barely audible on the carpeted hall.
"Damn!" Ronnie wanted to kick the wall, as he would have before the island. He really hated it when she was
right. Then he thought who might be able to help. If only he could make her understand how important it was.
***
Cecelia looked up from her desk to see her nephew standing in the doorway. "RonnieтАФI'm delighted to see
you. I'd hoped you'd come before we left."
He didn't answer, just gave her a sickly smile.
"What? I already thanked you for getting me out of that placeтАФand if you don't think I mean it, just take a
look at your stock accounts."
"It's not that, Aunt CeceliaтАФand I wish you hadn't done that, really."
The boy didn't want money? That was new; that was unbelievable. She looked more closely. The wavy
chestnut hair looked dull; he had lavender smudges under his hazel eyes, and a skin tone that would have
made her think "hangover" if he hadn't been so obviously sober and miserable.
"What, then?" she asked, without much sympathy. She'd fixed him once; he was supposed to stay fixed;
she couldn't provide deadly danger every time he needed pepping up.
He slouched into her room as if his backbone were overcooked asparagus, and slumped into one of her
favorite leather chairs. "It's Raffaele," he said.
Of course. Young love. She'd been glad he wasn't still involved with Brun, since that young lady was in no
mood for romance, but she'd approved of Raffa. Moreover, she'd thought the girl had more sense than to jilt
Ronnie. He wasn't bad, and Raffa was just the sort of girl to keep him in line.
"What did you do?" she asked. It must have been something he did; perhaps he'd had another fling with
theatrical personalities.
"Nothing," Ronnie said. His tone held all the bitterness of disillusioned youth. "But my parents did plenty, and
her parents told her to break it off."
"Because ofтАФ"
"Because of you." He shook his head to stop the protest already halfway out her mouth. "I knowтАФyou've got
every right to be angry with themтАФ" She had more than a right, she had very viable suits in progress. "But
the thing is, Raffa's parents don't want the families involved right now."
"I'm not angry with you," Cecelia said. "They shouldn't blame you if I don't."
"She says they do."
"And you're sure it's not that she's found someone else?"
"Yes. I'm sure. She said . . . she said she loves me. ButтАФshe won't cross them."
"Idiot." Cecelia opened her mouth to say more, and then realized the other implications, the ones Ronnie
hadn't yet seen. Her suits imperiled the holdings of Ronnie's parentsтАФhis guarantees of future incomeтАФand
might imperil any financial settlements made in the course of betrothal, exchange of assets being the normal
complement to marriage. And Raffa, the levelheaded Raffa that she considered strong-minded enough to keep
Ronnie in check, would not tangle her family in any such trouble either. It all made perfectly good sense, and
Cecelia found herself doubly angry that the good sense could not be denied.
"She's not, really," Ronnie said. "She's just loyal, that's all." Greedy, thought Cecelia. Carrying prudence to a
ridiculous degreeтАФthe girl had money enough of her own; she was of age, she could make her own
decisions. As Ronnie went on making Raffa's arguments, as a true lover would, Cecelia found herself
countering them, in the courtroom behind her eyes. Ronnie's final declaration caught her off-balance; she'd
been imagining herself as the judge, looming over Raffa as incompetent counsel. "So," he was saying, "I