"S. M. Stirling - Draka 05 - Drakas!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stirling S. M)

"Are you all right, madam?" Gordon took a step towards her, a concerned look on his face.

"Yes, certainly," she smiled again, palely. "The boy has kicked me." She reached out and took Gordon's
hand. "Do you wish to feel him?"

She tugged his hand towards her swollen stomach. Gordon said, "No!" a bit more loudly than he'd
intended, and pulled away. "No. Er, quite all right, I assure you."

He was terrified that he'd insulted her beyond all bounds, but her expression didn't change.
"Well then, come, Mr. Gordon," she said, "there's something I must show you." She held out her arm.

"Quite." He bowed to his dinner companions, and murmured goodbyes, taking his hostess's arm as she
led him away.

"Poor Mr. Gordon," she said, not unsympathetically. They left the immense dining room and walked
down a carpeted hallway that was as dark and quiet as the dining room had been colorful and loud. "You
must be quite unused to the forthrightness of Draka women."

Gordon inclined his head as she patted his hand. "You are correct, madam."

"Well, that's not unusual for you Englishmen. Or Scotsmen, if you prefer." They had stopped at a door
ornately carved from rich, dark wood.

"It is all the same to me, madam."

Gordon frowned as he noticed the distasteful scene which had been hewn into the dark richness of the
wood. A man with the classic chiseled Draka features stood in a horse-drawn chariot as it was pulled
between ranks of crucified serfsтАФmen and women both. The execution of the carving was as exquisite
as the subject matter was repellent. The relief seemed vaguely familiar to GordonтАФthen he realized that it
represented a famous scene in the career of Alexander von Shrakenberg's grandfather, Augustus, who
had put down a serf revolt a generation earlier by crucifying five thousand of themтАФwhether they'd been
personally involved in the rebellion or not.

Edith took both his hands in hers. "No need to be shy, my dear Mr. Gordon." She leaned forward,
conspiratorially. "My sister Katharine has taken quite the fancy to you, and would like to get to know you
better."

It was all Gordon could do not to pull away in panic. "Well . . . she is, um, quite an attractive young
woman, but . . ."

"No `buts,' Mr. Gordon. I'll tell her that you'll be expecting her in your room, later tonight."

She frowned at his sudden frozen expression.

"Or, if you'd prefer Amelia . . ."

"It's not a question ofpreference ," Gordon began.

"Good." She smiled, cutting him off. She gave him a conspiratorial wink, released his hands, and
knocked loudly on the closed door. She went off down the hall, smiling.