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

"You really don't," he said, pressing a warm kiss to her brow. "Now come back and finish your lunch.
You don't want the baby to starve, do you?"

"No," she sighed. She glanced at him again; he had put an arm around her shoulder and was steering her
out the door, back to the dining room. A thought struck her—late, but her thought process was
continually being thwarted by shock upon shock. "What do you think? About my being pregnant, I
mean? I never got a chance to ask you. Not that I care either way," she added hastily.

"I'm thrilled," he said simply, giving her a warm smile. He leaned close and she had the sense he wanted
very much to kiss her. Something—belated concern for her feelings?—held him back. "I love children.
The pack needs the continuity of succession. And I get to keep you now, don't I?"

His voice ended on a teasing note, but she wasn't amused. "For a minute there, I was almost liking you,"
she said evenly, pushing his arm away. "Thanks for turning back into a creep."

At the dining table, the other werewolves—people—were still glaring at Jon, who was miserably
embarrassed. "I'm really sorry," he said at once upon seeing Jeannie. "I shouldn't have reminded you
about the full moon. I forgot that—" He paused, glanced at Michael, blushed harder. "I have no excuse.
I'm so sorr—"

"Pleasestop," she said, rolling her eyes and sitting back down. "I'm the one who should apologize. I can
assure you it's not my usual M.O. to drop cutlery and flee for the bedroom when the word 'moon' is
introduced into the conversation."

The others laughed, Michael harder than anyone. Jon smiled at her with pure gratitude. And Derik
forked another chicken breast onto her plate.

***

"How about a tour, Moira?" she asked briskly, after the lunch dishes had been cleared away. "Might as
well check out my new home."
"She'll try to escape," Derik warned, finishing the last of his peach sorbet.

"I know," Moira said defensively. "You don't have to tell me everything, Mr. Right Hand Man."

"Bring her to me once you've found her again," Michael said casually, but his eyes were gleaming in a
way Jeannie didn't much care for.

"Hello!" she shouted. "Prisoner still in the room, here! Can you have this conversation where I can't hear
you?"

Moira giggled, and extended a hand. Surprised, Jeannie took it. "Come on," she said. "We'll start with
the gardens. If you cosh me over the head to escape, try not to muss my hair."

"For God's sake," she muttered, but obediently followed Moira out the door.

She had, in fact, decided to escape in the next day or so—well before the full moon. Michael's
assurances aside, she had no intention of sharing a home, however sprawlingly luxurious, with twenty
people all sharing the same delusion. And she didn't plan to be in the samestate with Wyndham when he