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A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 57 из 236"You don't think she's invited us here to ask if I'll share one of you with her?"
Doyle's dark eyebrows raised over the top of his sunglasses. "I had not thought of such a thing." He seemed to be thinking about what I'd said. "I suppose it is possible." He frowned. "But it would be the height of rudeness to ask such a thing. We are not merely your lovers but potential husbands. It is not casual."
"You said it yourself, Doyle, she's been alone for a century. A hundred years might wear down anyone's sense of politeness."
There was movement behind us; we turned to find Frost already on his feet facing the entrance. It was Rhys. "What have you guys been doing in here?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He gestured at Doyle and me kneeling on the floor. There was still the faintest of glows to my skin like a memory of moonlight.
I let Doyle help me to my feet; I was strangely unsteady. Maeve had caught me off guard, true, but I'd been touched a great deal more by other sidhe and not been this shaken.
I spoke. "Maeve Reed dropped her glamour."
Rhys's eye widened. "I felt it outside. You're telling me that all she did was drop her glamour?"
I nodded.
He gave a low whistle. "Sweet Goddess."
"And that is the point," Doyle said.
Rhys looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"We have all been worshipped in the past, but for most of us it is in the long past. For Conchenn it has been less than three hundred years. She was still being worshipped in Europe when we were asked to… leave."
"So you're saying that she's got more power because she was being worshipped?" Rhys asked.
"Not more power," Doyle said, "but more. ."
"Oomph," I suggested.
"I am unfamiliar with the word," he said.
"More. . jazz, more bite, more crack to the whip." I waved my hands in the air. "I don't know. Rhys knows what I mean."
He came down the three steps to the living room. "Yeah, I know what you mean. She's got more of a charge to her magic."
Doyle finally nodded. "I will accept that."
Frost came to stand with us. Doyle looked at him from behind dark glasses, and the bigger man hesitated, frowning. "I have an insight to add, my captain."
The two men carefully measured each other. I interrupted. "What's wrong with you two? If Frost has something to add, then let him say it."
Frost continued to look at Doyle, as if waiting. Finally, Doyle gave one quick nod. Frost gave a small bow. "I have watched movies on Meredith's television set. I have seen how humans react to these movie stars. Their adoration of the actors is a type of worship.
Doyle's dark eyebrows raised over the top of his sunglasses. "I had not thought of such a thing." He seemed to be thinking about what I'd said. "I suppose it is possible." He frowned. "But it would be the height of rudeness to ask such a thing. We are not merely your lovers but potential husbands. It is not casual."
"You said it yourself, Doyle, she's been alone for a century. A hundred years might wear down anyone's sense of politeness."
There was movement behind us; we turned to find Frost already on his feet facing the entrance. It was Rhys. "What have you guys been doing in here?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He gestured at Doyle and me kneeling on the floor. There was still the faintest of glows to my skin like a memory of moonlight.
I let Doyle help me to my feet; I was strangely unsteady. Maeve had caught me off guard, true, but I'd been touched a great deal more by other sidhe and not been this shaken.
I spoke. "Maeve Reed dropped her glamour."
Rhys's eye widened. "I felt it outside. You're telling me that all she did was drop her glamour?"
I nodded.
He gave a low whistle. "Sweet Goddess."
"And that is the point," Doyle said.
Rhys looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"We have all been worshipped in the past, but for most of us it is in the long past. For Conchenn it has been less than three hundred years. She was still being worshipped in Europe when we were asked to… leave."
"So you're saying that she's got more power because she was being worshipped?" Rhys asked.
"Not more power," Doyle said, "but more. ."
"Oomph," I suggested.
"I am unfamiliar with the word," he said.
"More. . jazz, more bite, more crack to the whip." I waved my hands in the air. "I don't know. Rhys knows what I mean."
He came down the three steps to the living room. "Yeah, I know what you mean. She's got more of a charge to her magic."
Doyle finally nodded. "I will accept that."
Frost came to stand with us. Doyle looked at him from behind dark glasses, and the bigger man hesitated, frowning. "I have an insight to add, my captain."
The two men carefully measured each other. I interrupted. "What's wrong with you two? If Frost has something to add, then let him say it."
Frost continued to look at Doyle, as if waiting. Finally, Doyle gave one quick nod. Frost gave a small bow. "I have watched movies on Meredith's television set. I have seen how humans react to these movie stars. Their adoration of the actors is a type of worship.