"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 01 - The Bronze Axe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

it then, a queer who was selling information to Blade, a young deviate who had been murdered two
weeks later. What had his name been?
Blade could not remember. His mind was fuzzy and blank. With a great effort, feeling the sudden
sweat on his forehead despite the cold, he switched his thoughts and tried—tried—Lord? Lord Leighton!
Got it. And his boss? J. Yes, J. He could swear it. J?London ? M16A? Yes—yes—then the mist seeped
into his brain and he was no longer sure.
He understood it then. His memory of past life was going. Slowly, but inexorably, leaving him.
The girl cried out in pain. Blade, totally forgetting her, had tensed so that he very nearly crushed her
ribs.
He released her. "I am sorry, princess. I was thinking and for a moment forgot where I was. I did not
mean to hurt you."
She sounded cross, yet she did not move away from him. "You are a great brute, Richard Blade.
You crush a woman like a straw."
In the east, over a waving sea of endless trees, he saw the first pale hint of a gibbous moon. He
looked back along the tortuous way they had come. The mist, risen higher now, hung like a visible
miasma over the stream and drifted in ghostly whorls among the trees. There were no torches, no voices,
no baying dogs. Their pursuers, it appeared, had given up for the night.
Blade led the girl to the bank, where they found a grassy enclave which, if not warm, was at least
better than the brook. They nestled down together and she came into his arms again.
But first she said: "I am cold, Blade. I seek only the warmth of that huge bear's body of yours. You
understand this?"
She could not see his smile. "I understand," he said gravely. "What else? After all you are a princess
and I am only a poor stranger—a man with no clothes. What could such a one possibly aspire to? Have
no fear, princess. I know my station and I will not reach above it."
None the less temptation was present and he was well aware of it. She was soaked to the skin and
her nipples had risen with the cold. Her breasts, half out of the skimpy dress, lay against his naked chest.
And he knew, with the sure knowledge that a true man has, that although she would demur, and possibly
even struggle a bit, she would in the end welcome his lovemaking. If he so chose.
He did not so choose. That would resolve itself in time. If they were meant to be lovers they would
be. Meantime there were more immediate problems—they were lost, hunted, and his belly was
screaming for food. If she was as hungry as he, then she was hungry indeed.
She had not spoken for a few moments. She lay against him, shivering like a drenched puppy, with
her fine spun hair tickling his nose. Now she pulled away and tried to see his face in the gloom. There
was an edge in her voice.
"I think you mock me, Blade. Iama princess, but I do not think I like your tone when you say it."
"Again I am sorry, princess. I cannot help my tone. It is the way I always speak."
"If I truly thought you mocked me, Blade, I would have you well whipped when we come to Sarum
Vil. I swear I would."
His teeth glinted wolf-like in the moonlight as he held up the sword. "I think not, princess. Not while I
am armed and can fight back. Try to have me whipped and there will be blood—perhaps mine, certainly
that of your friends."
His tone lightened. "Anyway it will not be necessary to whip me—I do not mock you."
Taleen regarded him with something of caution, and a new respect. She smiled back. "Very well. We
are friends again. You may hold me, Blade. I am freezing."
But before she came into his arms again they both heard it—the sound of chanting voices coming
from the deep black woods to the east. Taleen stared at Blade and made an odd gesture with her right
hand across her breasts.
"Frigga protect us! It is the Drus. They are meeting tonight in the sacred glade. And now I know
where I am, Blade. Come. We will circle around them and find the path to Sarum Vil." She extended a
hand to Blade.