"Jennifer Roberson - CotC 6 - Daughter of the Lion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberson Jennifer)

hour."
Briefly, so briefly, there was a glint of something
in brown eyes, but hidden instantly. I regretted my
tone, but did not know what I might say to lessen the
insult, since it was already given. He was far more
than servant, being my father's personal arms-master,
and therefore in service to a king. And he owed no
service to me, since only men are trained in the arts
of war. He had agreed to train the Mujhar's daugh-
ter only because he had lost a wager. In winning it, I
had won him, and all that he could teach.
He cleaned his sword, sheathed it, bowed to
Aileen and left. Giving her the courtesy he might
have given me, had I been deserving of it. But for
now, Aileen's welfare was more important than
Griffon's feelings.
"He might have waited," I said curtly. "He has a
son already, and you nearly dead of that." Grimly I
caught up a soft cloth, cleaned the blade, drove it
home into its sheath. "You have been wed but eigh-
teen months, and a child of it already. Now there
will be another?" I shook my head, speaking through
my teeth. It was their business, not mine, but I could
not help myself; Brennan and I are not, always,
friends. "Aileen, he gives you no timeтАФ"
" Twas not entirely up to him," she told me sharply,
giving me back my tone but in her Erinnish lilt.
"D'ye think I had no say in the matter? D'ye think
I'd let him take me against my will, or that he would
try?" Aileen rose, absently shaking the rucked up
folds out of her skirts. "Are ye forgetting, then, that
women can want the bedding, too?"
It silenced me, as she meant it to. Aileen and I are
close, nearly kinspirits, and she knows how strongly I
feel about women being made to do certain things
merely because they are women. She knows also I
have little interest in bedding, being more concerned
with freedom. In body as well as in mind.
"He might have waited," I said again. "And you
might have let him."
 She smiled. Aileen's smile lights up a hall; it lighted
the chamber now. "He might have," she agreed,
"and I might have, as well. But we were neither of us
thinking of anything more than the moment's plea-
sure . . . 'twill come to you, one day, no matter what
you think."
I turned away from her and strode across to a
sword rack, put away the sheathed blade. I felt the
rigidity in my back; tried to loosen it even as I tried
to force my tone into neutrality. "When will it be