"MacAllister - 04 - Midsummer's Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacGregor Kinley)

Like always, you remind me of the things that are gentle and good, and bring a
smile to my lips when I think of you.
I was excited this morning when the messenger came with your letter. This one
still held the scent of your sweet hands upon it. More and more, I find myself
looking for them. Looking for my connection to you.
Your words see me through the days and especially the long nights while I remain
far from home and familiar comforts. I know we have only met once, and yet I
feel as though I know you in a way I have never known anyone.
I miss you, Kenna. Every moment of my day is spent wondering how you are doing
and if something has made you smile in my absence.
I have the lock of hair that you sent me. I wear it inside a circlet that rests
over my heart to remind me of your gentle words and kindness. It is my most
treasured possession, it and the letters you send.
In truth, I can't imagine living in a world where you are not a part of it. If I
could, I would gladly spend the rest of my life with you, making you happy.
Meet me in England on my return, my lady, and there I would make true my heart's
fondest wish. A kiss from your tender lips and a pledge from my heart to yours.
Until then, let sweet dreams be with you.
Ever your knight,
S.
Kenna closed her eyes and held the letter close to her heart. Stryder loved her.
She was certain of it. Surely no man could write such tender words unless he
meant them.
But perhaps she had misread them.
They had sounded like a proposal upon her first three dozen readings, but now
that she had seen Stryder again, she wasn't so sure. He'd acted as if he'd had
no idea who she was, and yet the two of them had been writing for well over a
year now.
"Kenna?"
She turned to find Caledonia standing in the doorway.
"Are you all right?"
Kenna nodded as she folded up the letter and returned it to the satchel.
Stryder's words had been written for her alone, and she had never wanted to
share their precious sentiments. "I'm just trying to understand Stryder's
reaction."
From the words he had written to her, she'd expected him to scoop her up in his
arms and cry out in delight at her presence. Instead, he had excused himself and
run for cover as if the devil himself had been after him.
Could he have been lying to her all this time?
But why would he do such?
Their letters had been innocent at first, just little notes to each other about
the weather and what they were up to. He had been the one who had turned their
missives into more serious matters.
Perhaps he had thought her to be another lady. Perhaps he had remembered her to
be beautiful and elegant like her cousin Callie, and now, having seen her again,
he was disappointed and regretful of his writings.
She shivered at the thought.
Nay, surely not. He had shared too much of himself with her. Told her of his
mother's death, of his brutal past.
He had told her things she was quite certain he had shared with no one else.