"Robert E. Vardeman & Geo W. Proctor - The Swords of Raemllyn 1 - To Demons Bound" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vardeman Robert E)

shiver that was transformed to a quivering when his tongue lightly toyed with her earlobe.
Belatha wiggled closer. Davin caught his breath as the hand stroking his thigh under the table pressed
into his groin and squeezed eagerly.
"The Inn of the Winged Ram is famous for its mulled ale," she whispered in throaty little gasps. "I will
get us some."
Before Davin could protest, the sleek Belatha slipped away, leaving her lover for the eve alone in
momentary confusion.
Davin chuckled. Belatha wasn't a woman to rush things. She intended for him to stew in his own
desires for a while, before fulfilling the promises of eyes and hand.
This was yet another reason for believing her a lady to the manner born rather than a scullery maid.
Lower-born tended to take their pleasures lustily, quickly, with-out need for sexual intrigue. Beyond his own
fantasy, Davin truly suspected Belatha of being more than she appeared—a consummate actress living out
her own fan-tasy with him.
While the highborn ladies fascinated him, Davin rue-fully admitted that all women of beauty and wit
awoke equal interest. Let Belatha play out her role; he would fuel the fires of fantasy and then show her
how superb reality could be—with the right man.
Davin leaned back and turned toward the inn's open doorway. From within the main hall of the
Winged Ram came a flood of dancing orange light cast by the burning logs in the stone fireplace. The blaze
was for its cozy effect only. The lingering warmth of late autumn be-guiled the world with a false promise.
It was, after all, early winter. The first snow could be no more than weeks away.
Belatha abruptly appeared in the doorway, her slender form silhouetted by the light from inside.
Davin's preferences in women's clothing had always been for the thin and form-fitting. He was now
presented with a special treat as he stared at the approaching blonde.
Belatha's loosely flowing skirt seemed to glow with an inner radiance, giving shadowy hints of fine
legs be-neath. The light white cotton blouse she wore turned almost transparent, to present him with a
glimpse of her breasts and the erect nipple topping each.
"I must tend to a few of the other patrons," she said when she reached Davin's side. Then, before his
dis-appointment-pursed lips could utter their complaints, she pressed her mouth to his.
"The tidings are not all ill. The owner has sampled too much of his own wine this night and has taken
to his bed like a common drunk. Ambika has promised to re-lieve me as soon as she has the old fool tucked
away and snoring." Again her kiss silenced Davin. "Then the night will belong to us. That I promise, my
Davin."
She turned toward the Winged Ram, then glanced back at the young freebooter. "Wait for me in the
garden. You'll see my signal... and let no full dozen thieves delay you this time!"
Davin grunted while he watched Belatha's alluring form once more disappear within the inn. If this
were but another ploy to fire his anticipation...
He shoved the thought away as easily as he pushed from the table. The delay was a small price to
pay for all that Belatha promised, and the garden was but a few steps away, behind the Winged Ram.
He was leaning against the cold bole of an ancient oak when a single candle shone at last from a
second-story window and a sash squeaked out a metallic protest as it opened.
"Davin?" Belatha's voice was a husky whisper.
 "Coming," he answered, moving toward the flickering beacon.
"I hope not too soon." Belatha giggled, then, "Please be quiet, you mustn't awaken the patrons."
"I'll be as quiet as a thief." Davin gripped a thick vine of ivy, now turning brown in anticipation of the
onslaught of winter storms, and pulled upward soundlessly. He moved like the night breeze, quiet,
soft-touching, vir-tually unnoticed.
One quick heave at the window's ledge sent him through the opening and into Belatha's bedchamber.
And into one another's arms.
He enfolded the gorgeous daughter of Bistonia and drew her close. Her slender arms returned the
embrace with equal enthusiasm.