"Mary Janice Davidson - Wyndham Werewolves 01 - Love's Prisoner" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

Jeannie opened her mouth to tell them exactly what she thought of what's-his-name, but the
black-hearted bastard beat her to the punch.

"She's here entirely against her will," he went on, "and isn't happy about it. She's also pregnant by me—"

A happy gasp from the crowd.

"—and not happy about it. It happened, as some of you probably guessed, during the last full moon."

Nods. Sympathetic glances. She bit her tongue, hard, so as not to shriek with embarrassed rage.

"Thus, she will be rude, throw things, and do her best to escape," he went on casually, as if she wasn't
standing at his elbow and hearing every word. "She doesn't understand her vulnerability and can't
appreciate her delicate position. And she won't thank any of you for pointing it out." He paused. "Be
patient with her."

Jeannie rolled her eyes. At the edge of the crowd, a petite, elfin blonde woman saw it and winked at her.

"Moira, if you'll show Jeannie to her rooms?"

The small blonde nodded and stepped forward at once. Psycho Boy turned to her and asked with
ridiculous politeness, "Did you have any questions, Jeannie?"

"Just one." She paused. He waited, the crowd waited, expectantly. "What the hell is your name?"

Score! He flushed a little, and there were a few outright laughs in the crowd. Moira giggled, and quickly
choked off the sound as he glanced at her with a frown. "Ah—that's right, we never got around to that,
did we? It's Michael. Michael Wyndham."

"Great," she said, unsurprised. After the month she'd had, nothing could surprise her. The Wyndhams
controlled a vast shipping empire and were reputed to be slightly more wealthy than God. The father of
her child owned the tower she'd taken the ill-fated elevator in, probably owned the magazine she worked
for. It figured. "Psychoticand rich."

"I'm afraid so," he said with an irritatingly sexy smile. She looked away, disgusted.

Moira led her out of the yard, into the astonishing mansion she'd glimpsed from the RV. After her last
confrontation with Tall, Dark, and Wyndham, she'd cried herself to sleep. And when she woke, they had
been pulling up to the most beautiful manor home she had ever seen. She was so stunned at the home's
size and majesty, she hadn't said a word when Michael gently led her out of the RV and introduced her
to the household staff who, the redhead (whose name was Jon; the blonde had introduced himself as
Derik) had assured her, all shared Michael's "delusion."

She was so impressed with the ocean-side mansion, she could hardly fret about being kept prisoner by
fifteen people who were all as nutty as Wyndham. True unease would come, she had no doubt, in time.
Like as soon as her shock and surprise wore off. Then there'd be hell to pay. Then there'd—

"I hope you'll come to like it here," Moira was saying, leading her through a home that madeGone With
The Wind's Twelve Oaks look like a claim shanty. "We've been waiting for you for a long time."