"Roberts, Nora - Irish Hearts 1 - Irish Thoroughbred" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

colorful descriptions and outrageous stories. She elaborated here and
there, her hands working with her words, brows raising over guileless
eyes as she stretched truth into an obvious exaggeration. Her uncle had
noticed the faint shadows under them, however, and urged her to retire
early, overcoming her protests with the deft suggestion that she had
need to be fresh in the morning.

So Adelia had obeyed, drawing a steaming tub and wallowing in unfamiliar
luxury for what she knew Aunt Lettie would have considered a sinful
amount of time. When at last she lay between the cool, fresh sheets, she
found it impossible to relax. Her mind was full, crowded with new
sensations, new images; and her body, so used to complete exhaustion
before sleep, was unable to cope with the lack of physical exertion.
Easing out of bed, she exchanged her nightdress for jeans and shirt and,
piling her hair once more under the absurd cap, slipped noiselessly from
the sleeping house.

The night was clear, cool and quiet, a vague breeze sweetening the air,
only the bright, insistent call of a whippoorwill breaking the
stillness. The light of the half moon guided her toward the stables as
she strolled without thought of destination over the smooth new grass.
The stillness, the familiar scent of animals, reminded her of home, and
suddenly she felt a contentment and peace she had not even known she had
lived without.

Hesitating outside the door of the large white stables, she debated
whether she dare enter and spend the last of her evening with the
horses. Having decided there was no harm in it, she was reaching out for
the handle when an iron grip closed around her arm and whirled her
around, and she was lifted off her feet for a moment like a rag doll.

"Just what do you think you're doing? And how did you get in here?"

She stared wordlessly at the owner of the harsh, angry voice, a vague
shadow silhouetted in the dim moonlight, looming over her like an
avenging giant.

She searched for her own voice, but the combination of shock and pain
had stolen it. Her words slipped down her throat as she felt herself
being dragged into the building.

"Here, let's have a look at you," the voice growled as its owner
switched on the lights. He spun her around, dislodging her cap, and the
glory of her hair escaped its confinement to form a fiery cascade down
her back.

"What the... you're a girl!" He released his firm hold and Adelia
stepped back and began to give him both sides of her Irish tongue.

"Sure and it's observant you are to be noticing that--" She rubbed her