"Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Madelaine 2 - In the Face of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yarbro Chelsea Quinn)

"No. There is no place I would rather be," he answered evenly.
"Then why-?" she began, only to be cut off.
"Because it is what I want," he said bluntly, and stubbed out his cigar in the saucer she
had set out for that purpose. "A man in my position, with a wife and a good marriage, has other
women for convenience and amusement. It isn't that way with you. You are not a convenience or
an entertainment. You arc not convenient at all. You are what I want. All of you. And I should
not. I must not." He started toward the bed, tugging at his sash and flinging it aside as he reached
her. He stared down at her as his robe fell open. "Do you know what it means to want you so
much, to go beyond reason with wanting you? I want to possess you, and I fear you will possess
me. I am afraid that once I touch you, I will be lost."
"Is that so terrifying a prospect?" she asked, moving to make a place beside her in the bed.
 "Yes." In a shrug he dropped his dressing robe to the floor, letting it lie in a velvet puddle.
"Then come and stretch out beside me. We can talk as friends, all through the night." She
piled up the pillows. "I don't require you to take me."
"How do you mean?" he asked sharply.
"If you do not want to touch me at all, you need not." She regarded him kindly. "If you
would like to, then you may."
He scowled. "How can you say that you want me, that you have me here in your house, in
your bed, and not care if I-"
She sighed. "I've told you before, William."
"Don't call me William," he interrupted, seeking a distraction from the confusion that
warred within him.
"I won't call you Mr. Sherman, not here," she said, slapping one of the pillows with the
back of her hand; though it was dark, she could see his face clearly and knew he was deeply
troubled. She strove to lighten the burdens of desire that so plagued him, and decided to stay on
safe ground. "What does the T in your name stand for?"
"My friends and… and family call me Cump," he said, swallowing hard.
"Cump?" She was baffled.
"My given name is Tecumseh," he said at last. "The Ewings added William when they
took me in after my father's death. So that I could be baptized into Maria Ewing's Catholic
religion." He sat on the edge of the bed and absently reached out to stroke her hair.
Madelaine knew he had just given her a very special gift. "You're named for the chief of
the Shawnee."
"Yes," he said with urgency as he reached out and wrapped his long-fingered hands
around her upper arms. "How do you know about Tecumseh?"
"I know he had a twin brother, Tenskwatawa, and they were both called The Prophet." It
was not a direct answer, but it was all she was prepared to give now. "Come to me, Tecumseh.
You don't have to do anything if you don't want to."
He glowered at her, then looked down at himself, sighed, and swung his legs up and under
the covers. He stared up at the ceiling in the darkness. "What should we talk about?" he asked, his
manner forbidding.
"Anything you wish or nothing at all. Either will please me if that is what you want." As
much as she desired to lie next to him, to feel his flesh against hers for the length of her body,
she, too, lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, noticing a faint crack in the ornamental
plasterwork. She wanted to • bridge the rift between them, and sought for something she could
give him, as he had offered his name to her. "Let us share secrets, as friends do," she suggested
impulsively. "If you like, I will tell you how old I am."
"That is a wonderful secret for a lady to share with a friend, and quite an admission for
any woman to make." He laughed once, then looked grave. "Very well. On my honor I promise I
will never repeat it," he told her somberly.