"Mary A. Turzillo - Ben Cruachan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Turzillo Mary A)

few faint marks,one on the base of her throat, and another near her roseblush
nipple. He wasalways a passionate man, and in his anger, the sight stirred
him."Honor your word," she said in a wee voice.Duncan jerked his hand away.
"Stay far from my piper and my other people," hesaid. "Robert will be back. I
do na doubt that he went to get his other sons."Then he seized her hand and
dragged her back into the hall. There, he called fora servant to make up a
bundle of bread, whiskey, and woolen rugs. "I know of acave where I played
when I was a lad," said Duncan. "Robert will not find youthere." And when she
hesitated, "Come. Darkness is falling and the way will betreacherous for the
horse."All the way to the cave they rode Duncan's fine mare, Annie Stewart
ridingastride in her lad's clothes, her arms around Duncan. When Duncan lifted
herdown in the cold dark, he smelled her hair, fragrant despite her hard
dealings."I shall freeze here," she said."Do na think of making a fire,"
Duncan said. "I can leave you the one rug. Wraptight in it and stay deep in
the cave."She held out her arms to him. "Warm me before you go."Duncan knew
well that she was enticing him, this murderer of his bride'sbrother, but he
went to her, lay on the thick woolen rug with her and wrapped itaround them.
"You'll be warm enough with a nip of whiskey," he said.She held him the
tighter, wrapping narrow, strong arms about his waist. She didnot seem cold;
indeed her thinly covered bosom pressed against his chest withfeverish
heat."That's enough, lass," he said. "You'll be warm enough till morning. Then
youcan move around and stir your blood."She buried her face in the hollow of
his neck. Her hair fell silkily across hischeek, and the odor of her sweat
stirred him."Your arms are strong," she said in a low husky tone. "I wish it
had been youinstead of Donald."Despite her wiles, desire rose in him, unquiet
and harsh. He asked, "What do youwant with me?""Swear to protect me, Duncan.
Swear by Ben Cruachan, on your dirk." She reacheddown and took his dirk from
its sheath. The dirk, shaped like Christ's cross,betokened a man's honor.
Placing it against her bosom, she took his hand andpressed against it.
"Swear.""I've sworn," he said."Again.""Yes, yes, I swear!"He lay longer with
her, and her hands strayed under his kilt like flowers blownagainst his naked
skin. Beyond thinking, he stroked her hips. His hands withouthis will undid
her male disguise and she took him into her.Whether she was maiden or not,
Duncan could not tell. She might have been, washis last waking thought.As he
slept on the hard, rocky floor of the cave, wrapped with thismurderer-lass, a
dream came to him."Duncan, beware! You lie with a witch, a changeling."Duncan,
in his dream, sat upright and cried, "Donald, cousin! What do you wantof
me?""Revenge. Take up your dirk and kill the witch.""Donald, forgive me, but I
swore on that very dirk to protect her.""You have sworn ill, cousin." And from
the face and breast of the apparitionstreamed blood, spattering Duncan until
he woke."By Christ, Donald! Have pity on me."Annie Stewart opened her eyes
sleepily. "Honey-love, what's wrong?" Despite hisshame his passions rose again
and he went into her.Shivering when the cold air hit his sweating body, Duncan
went to the mouth ofthe cave and looked out. First light crept across the
valley. His horse he couldsee dimly in a patch of gorse down the path, where
it had sheltered. "I must begone," he muttered.From somewhere below came the
drone of bagpipes so faint Duncan could scarcelymake out the tune: "The
Flowers of the Forest." Seized with fear, he looked overhis shoulder. But
Annie was still asleep in the darkness.When he looked again into the valley,
he thought he saw a man walk up the path.The wail of the bagpipes grew louder