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

"Waiting for me?"

"For our leader to take a mate," Moira explained. She was a lovely, delicate blonde with eyes the color
of the sky, and skin so pale it was almost translucent. She was tiny; almost a head shorter than Jeannie,
and Jeannie herself was five-ten. "He needs an heir. It's just unfortunate that . . ." She trailed off,
seemingly embarrassed.

"You don't knowhow unfortunate," Jeannie said dryly. "Look, Moira, I don't suppose there's any chance
you'd help me—"

"Don't even ask, ma'am," she said firmly. "I'd die for Michael. Any of us would."

"In other words, don't waste your breath asking anyone else to crack out of this pokey," she finished.

"Your 'pokey', ma'am," Moira said with a grin, throwing open a set of mahogany doors. Jeannie stepped
into the most beautiful room she had ever seen—all gleaming blonde wood floors, lush throw rugs, a
fireplace large enough to roast two pigs, and several doors. And the bed! A king-sized monstrosity, large
enough to comfortably sleep a family of six.

"Bathroom, closet, closet, balcony," Moira was saying, opening all the doors.

"Whoa!" Jeannie said, staring, goggle-eyed. Moira giggled again. "Okay, so, this place ranks high on my
Top Ten List Of Places To Be Held Prisoner. But it still sucks, you know."

"Hmmmm?" Moira said, turning down the bed.

"Being held here against my will," Jeannie reminded her impatiently. She waited for Moira to blush, to
acknowledge guilt, to do something . . . something besides shrug and look unconcerned, dammitall. Then
a thought struck her, and she asked sharply, "Where does Wyndham sleep?"

"His is the adjoining room," she said simply.
"Over my dead body!"

"You'll have to discuss that with him, ma'am."

"And stop calling me ma'am! I'm not ninety!"

"As you wish, my lady."

"Out!" she hissed, and to her relief and surprise, Moira obeyed at once. Jeannie threw herself on the
bed, which enveloped her at once in an eiderdown embrace. She was too mad to cry again, which was a
relief—she'd done entirely too much crying lately. Now was the time for action!

"Would you like to have something to eat before you try to escape?"

It was Wyndham, poking his head through the doorway that doubtless adjoined his rooms to hers. She'd
like to slam that door shut, watch his eyes pop out as his neck broke.

She glared up at him from her bed. "I want to go home."