"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 20 - Web of Sand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

room, the pane becoming a mirror holding her reflection. An
image taken from a tapestry; tall, the oval face slashed with a
generous mouth betraying in its sensuosity, the eyes, deep-set,
vividly green. The hair which hung like a cascade of flame, ruby
tints reflected from cheeks and chin and the long column of her
throat. The body hugged by gossamer fabrics, the fullness of
breasts and hips emphasized by the narrow waist.

"Beautiful! Ellain, my darling, you are beautiful!"

Another image joined her own in the reflective pane, this
taken from a frieze; the face of stone, flared nostrils, a cleft chin,
a dark mass of hair tightly curled on a peaked skull, the nose
aquiline, arrogant, proud. A man taller than herself who stepped
close to stand behind her, arms circling her body, the hands
rising, cupped, toward her breasts.

Hands which closed to rest on her shoulder blades as she
turned to look up into his smiling face, seeing the smile turn into
a frown, the amber eyes blaze then turn cold as, deftly, she
slipped from the circle of his embrace.

"No, Yunus."

"You object? But why? May not a man appreciate beauty?"

"From a distance, yes."

"This to me?" Again a controlled anger burned in the catlike
eyes. "Is the past so easily forgotten?"

"The past is just that—the past." She moved from the window
as the cloud of ebon dust yielded to a swirl of paler hue; chalk
white touched with scabrous gray laced with somber umber
flecked with pearl. "You presume too much."

"Presume?" His gesture embraced the room, the soft
furnishings, the things of value which graced the surfaces of
small tables, pedestals, cabinets. Statuettes, carved gems, small
figurines some in suggestively erotic poses, others screaming in
silent agony. In a bowl stood crystalline flowers with petals
exuding an induced scent; rich, heavy and sensuous odors which
hung like fragrant clouds over the shimmering petals. "Must I
remind you to whom this belongs?"

"You own the room," she admitted. "The whole, damned
apartment and everything in it. But never make the mistake of
thinking you own me."

A matter he could have argued but knew better than to press