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A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 47 из 236"
"They mayclean up for the press, but I know what they are, Meredith," Ethan said.
"And what would that be?" Doyle's deep voice rumbled through the room, causing echoes in the archway.
Ethan actually jumped.
I had to turn my face away to hide the smile.
"You're Unseelie." Ethan stretched that last word out, made it hiss.
I looked back at them. Doyle stood facing him, his back to me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking; and I probably couldn't have told even if I'd seen his face. Doyle did better blank face than anyone I'd ever met. Frost was standing closer to the unknown muscle man, his face the arrogant mask he wore in court. Even the new muscle was keeping pretty blank, except for a certain nervous flicker around the eyes. But Ethan, Ethan had a fine angry tremble to his hands. He was staring at Doyle as if he hated him.
"You're just jealous, Ethan, jealous that most of the major stars prefer a sidhe warrior at their back instead of you."
"You've bewitched them," he said.
I raised an eyebrow at that. "Me personally?"
He made a small angry gesture toward the two warriors. I think it would have been a large angry gesture but he was worried about how Doyle would take it. "They have."
"Ethan, Ethan," another male voice called from across the room. "I've told you before that that is simply not true." I knew at a glance that it was one of the Hart brothers. He was walking down the steps toward me before I was certain it was Julian Hart. Jordon and Julian were identical twins, both with medium brown hair cut very short on the sides and left just a little long on top so that they could gel it into short spikes; very hip, very now. They were both six feet, both handsome enough to model, which they had done briefly in their early twenties to raise startup money for their detective agency. Julian's jacket was a deep burgundy satin over a pair of ordinary, but designer, burgundy-brown, pinstriped pants. He wore shiny black loafers with no socks, so that you got flashes of his tanned feet as he moved gracefully through the room. His eyes were hidden behind yellow tinted glasses that on anyone else would have clashed with the clothes; but on Julian they looked just right.
I started to rise to greet him, but he said, "No, no, my fair Merry, stay seated, I'll come to you." He walked around the couch, eyes flicking to the four men still standing in the archway. "Ethan, darling, I've told you time and again that the sidhe warriors are not doing a thing to attract our business away from us.
"They mayclean up for the press, but I know what they are, Meredith," Ethan said.
"And what would that be?" Doyle's deep voice rumbled through the room, causing echoes in the archway.
Ethan actually jumped.
I had to turn my face away to hide the smile.
"You're Unseelie." Ethan stretched that last word out, made it hiss.
I looked back at them. Doyle stood facing him, his back to me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking; and I probably couldn't have told even if I'd seen his face. Doyle did better blank face than anyone I'd ever met. Frost was standing closer to the unknown muscle man, his face the arrogant mask he wore in court. Even the new muscle was keeping pretty blank, except for a certain nervous flicker around the eyes. But Ethan, Ethan had a fine angry tremble to his hands. He was staring at Doyle as if he hated him.
"You're just jealous, Ethan, jealous that most of the major stars prefer a sidhe warrior at their back instead of you."
"You've bewitched them," he said.
I raised an eyebrow at that. "Me personally?"
He made a small angry gesture toward the two warriors. I think it would have been a large angry gesture but he was worried about how Doyle would take it. "They have."
"Ethan, Ethan," another male voice called from across the room. "I've told you before that that is simply not true." I knew at a glance that it was one of the Hart brothers. He was walking down the steps toward me before I was certain it was Julian Hart. Jordon and Julian were identical twins, both with medium brown hair cut very short on the sides and left just a little long on top so that they could gel it into short spikes; very hip, very now. They were both six feet, both handsome enough to model, which they had done briefly in their early twenties to raise startup money for their detective agency. Julian's jacket was a deep burgundy satin over a pair of ordinary, but designer, burgundy-brown, pinstriped pants. He wore shiny black loafers with no socks, so that you got flashes of his tanned feet as he moved gracefully through the room. His eyes were hidden behind yellow tinted glasses that on anyone else would have clashed with the clothes; but on Julian they looked just right.
I started to rise to greet him, but he said, "No, no, my fair Merry, stay seated, I'll come to you." He walked around the couch, eyes flicking to the four men still standing in the archway. "Ethan, darling, I've told you time and again that the sidhe warriors are not doing a thing to attract our business away from us.