"John Moore - Heroics for Beginners" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore John)

glasses, setting out baskets of rolls, and relighting any candles that had gone out. Candlelight gleamed off
highly polished silver cutlery. New tapestries, of burgundy-and-gold cloth, draped the walls. A string
quartet was playing chamber music. Kevin sent Winslow off to dine below stairs and took his place on
the dais, alongside the other guests of honor. Bigelow nodded at him when he returned, then murmured
an aside. "So we get to meet the Ice Princess at last. At least I'll get a look at her before I leave town."

"You've never seen her?"

"If my old man had his way, we'd never see our betrotheds until the wedding day. Bad for discipline, he
thinks. He's a bit old-fashioned. I take it you have seen her."

"I did some diplomatic work here last summer," said Kevin. Bigelow was smart enough to recognize this
as a nonanswer. He shrugged it off.

The suitors gathered on a raised platform, all on one side of a table, an assortment of Deserae's nobility
on the other side, and Lord Hepplewhit at the foot. (In their pursuit of the Princess, Deserae's custom
was that all suitors were considered of equal rank.) Kevin was placed between Bigelow and Harkness,
and across from Lady Tripple. She gave him an encouraging smile. The seat at the head of the table was
empty, as were the chairs on either side. Hepplewhit talked with Raymond, while keeping half an eye on
the clock. A door opened in the side of the Banquet Hall, and Princess Rebecca entered,preceded by
two of her ladies-in-waiting and followed by two officers of the guard. The music stopped. As one man,
Logan, Harkness, Bigelow, and Raymond leaned slightly forward.

When a man looked at Princess Rebecca, the first thing that registered on his mind was an impression of
curves.Curves that moved.Curves that swayed. Curves that flowed and rolled like waves on a tumultuous
sea. Curves that shifted and slid under her clothes, making the fabric strain and stretch and hug her flesh
at one spot, then suddenly ripple away to find a new curve to caress. A woman might notice the curves
also, but she would also notice that the blond hair was tied up in a severe bun, the pale skin of her face
showed only a trace of makeup, the blue eyes were every bit as cold as her reputation, and the lips,
when she looked at the assembled suitors, were set in an expression of seemingly permanent disdain.
Men did tend to notice these things, too.Eventually. It usually required three or four looks—sometimes as
many as nine—before the average male could raise his eyes to Rebecca's face at all. She was, in truth,
just a little bit on the heavy side. But the extra weight had been distributed well. Her waist was narrow,
so the extra padding on her hips and breasts simply exaggerated her hourglass shape.

"My God," murmured Bigelow. "To think when my father mentioned the mountains of Deserae I thought
he was talking about the countryside."

"Shush," said Kevin. "Be nice." Rebecca's dress was of a lightweight watered silk, sky-blue to match her
eyes, and thin enough to reveal that there was nothing to conceal. No wire or whalebone supported that
lush figure. It was allgirl .

The Princess and her entourage reached the table and stopped. One of the officers stepped forward and
pulled out her chair. She sat down, looked around the room, and nodded. The two ladies-in-waiting took
their seats on either side of the Princess. There was a great rustle of skirts as the rest of the women in the
Banquet Hall sat down. The men remained standing until Hepplewhit gave the toast to the King. The
music started. Hepplewhit sat down. Everyone else sat down. The officers withdrew. Conversation
resumed.

A waiter with a tureen and a ladle appeared between Bigelow and Kevin."Soup, sir?"