"Roberts, Nora - Irish Hearts 3 - Irish Rebel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

And that, Brian thought, absurdly bereft, was the difference between training and owning.
"No need to look so annoyed." Keeley cocked her head as Brian scowled after Betty. "She did very well. Better than I'd expected."
"Hmm? Oh, so she did, yes. I was thinking of something else."
"Ribs hurting?" When he only shrugged, she shook her head. "Let me take a look."
"She barely caught me."
"Oh, for heaven's sake." Impatient, Keeley did what she would have done with one of her brothers: She tugged Brian's T-shirt out of his jeans.
"Well, darling, if I'd known you were so anxious to get me undressed, I'd have cooperated fully, and in private."
"Shut up. God, Brian, you said it was nothing."
"It's not much."
His definition of not much was a softball-size bruise over the ribs in a burst of ugly red and black. "Macho is tedious, so just shut up."
He started to grin, then yelped when she pressed her fingers to the bruise. "Hell, woman, if that's your idea of tender mercies, keep them."
"You could have a cracked rib. You need an X ray."
"I don't need a damned-ouch! Bollocks and bloody hell, stop poking." He tried to pull his shirt down, but she simply yanked it up again.
"Stand still, and don't be a baby."
"A minute ago it was don't be macho, now it's don't be a baby. What do you want?"
"For you to behave sensibly."
"It's difficult for a man to behave sensibly when a woman's taking his clothes off in broad daylight. If you're going to kiss it and make it better, I've several other bruises. I've a dandy one on my ass as it happens."
"I'm sure that's terribly amusing. One of the men can drive you to the emergency room."
"No one's driving me anywhere. I'd know if my ribs are cracked as I've had a few in my time. It's a bruise, and it's throbbing like a bitch now that you've been playing with it."
She spotted another, riding high on his hip, and gave that a poke. This time he groaned.
"Keeley, you're torturing me here."
"I'm just trying..." She trailed off as she lifted her head and saw his eyes. It wasn't pain or annoyance in them now. It was heat, and it was frustration. And it was surprisingly gratifying. "Really?"
It was wrong, and it was foolish, but a sip of power was a heady thing. She trailed her fingers along his hip, up his ribs and down again, and felt his muscles quiver. "Why don't you stop me?"
His throat hurt. "You make my head swim. And you know it."
"Maybe I do. Now. Maybe I like it." She'd never been deliberately provocative before. Had never wanted to be. And she'd never known the thrill of having a strong man turn to putty under her hands. "Maybe I've thought about you, Brian, the way you said I would."
"You pick a fine time to tell me when there's people everywhere, and your father one of them."
"Yeah, maybe that's true, too. I need that buffer, I guess."
"You're a killer, Keeley. You'd tease a man to death."
He didn't mean it as a compliment, but to her it was a revelation. "I've never tried it before. No one's ever attracted me enough. You do, and I don't even know why."
When she dropped her hand, he took her wrist. It surprised him to feel the gallop of her pulse there, when her eyes, her voice had been so cool, so steady. "Then you're a quick learner."
"I'd like to think so. If I come to you, you'd be the first."
"The first what?" Temper wanted to stir, especially when she laughed. Then his mind cleared and the meaning flashed through like a thunderbolt. His hand tightened on her wrist, then dropped it as though she had turned to fire.
"That scared you enough to shut you up," she observed. "I'm surprised anything could render you speechless."
"I've..." But he couldn't think.
"No, don't fumble around for words. You'll spoil your image." She couldn't think just why his dazed expression struck her as so funny, or why the shock in his eyes was endearing somehow.
"We'll just say that, under these circumstances, we both have a lot to consider. And now, I'm way behind in my work, and have to get ready for my afternoon class."
She walked away, as easily, as casually, Brian thought numbly, as she might have if they'd just finished discussing the proper treatment for windgalls. She left him reeling.
He'd gone and fallen in love with the gentry, and the gentry was his boss's daughter. And his boss's daughter was innocent.
He'd have to be mad to lay a hand on her after this.
He began to wish Betty had just kicked him in the head and gotten it all over with.
Served her right, Keeley decided. Spend the morning indulging herself, spend half the night doing the books. And she hated doing the books.
Sighing, she tipped back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. In another year, maybe two, the school would generate enough income to justify hiring a bookkeeper. But for now, she just couldn't toss the money away for something she could do herself. Not when she could use it to subsidize another student, or buy one of them a pair of riding boots.
It was tempting, particularly at times like these, to dip into her own bank account. But it was a matter of pride to keep the school going on its own merit, as much as she possibly could.
Ledgers and forms and bills and accounts, she thought, were her responsibility. You didn't have to like your responsibilities, you just had to deal with them.
She had two full-tuition students on her waiting list. One more, she calculated-two would be better-but one more and she could justify opening another class. Sunday afternoons.
That would give her eighteen full tuitions. Two years before, she'd had only three. It was working. And so, now, should she.
She swiveled back to the computer and focused on her spreadsheet program. Her eyes were starting to blur again when the door behind her opened.
She caught the scent of hot tea before she turned and saw her mother.
"Ma, what are you doing out here? It's midnight."
"Well, I was up, and I saw your light. I thought to myself, that girl needs some fuel if she's going to run half the night." Adelia set a thermos and a bag on the desk. "Tea and cookies."