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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 236 из 293“I didn’t realize…”
He held up a hand to stop my words. “I do not feel slighted, Merry. All that had eyes knew how long you pined after Galen. You followed him around like a puppy when you were so young you didn’t even realize why you found him so compelling.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the puppy remark, but I let it go, because when I was fourteen, it was probably embarrassingly accurate.
“Merry,” Galen said, “you’re blushing.”
I covered my face with my hands, because I rarely if ever blushed. I wasn’t blushing for me now, but for that long ago girl. The girl that I had been would have been mortified to know that her “secret” love was no secret at all.
Hands touched my wrists. “Merry.” Galen’s voice was as gentle as his hands, as he moved mine away from my face. “You blushed for me.”
I actually couldn’t look at him. “It’s just the thought that everyone knew. I didn’t know I was being that obvious when I was fourteen.”
“We’re all that obvious when we’re fourteen,” he said with a smile.
“It’s been a few centuries since I was fourteen,” Nicca said, “but if memory serves, Galen’s right.”
Kitto’s comment was, “The goblins are not a subtle race.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” Galen asked.
“It means that if a goblin lusts after another, everyone knows it. We do not see the point of hiding our admiration, unless we fear the goblin we lust after will take it as an insult. We are not subtle, but we can hide what we feel if we must.”
I held my hand out to him, palm up. He took my hand, looking puzzled. “What would you have of me, Princess?”
“A smile,” I said.
He looked even more puzzled.
Galen explained, “She wants to chase that shadow from your eyes.”
Kitto rewarded us both with a shy smile, then shook his head. “I like being sidhe.”
I squeezed his hand and would have said something comforting, but Nicca chose that moment to play his hand between my legs and suddenly I couldn’t think of any words.
“You’re not wet enough,” Nicca said.
It took me two swallows to say with a suddenly dry throat, “Bath, always does that.”
“Odd that such wetness makes a woman dry,” he said, and his finger found my opening, slipped inside. It made me gasp, made my hand convulse around Kitto’s. Nicca moved his finger inside me, gently, slowly. “I am not so large as some, but not small either. This dry it will hurt.”
My voice came breathy.
He held up a hand to stop my words. “I do not feel slighted, Merry. All that had eyes knew how long you pined after Galen. You followed him around like a puppy when you were so young you didn’t even realize why you found him so compelling.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the puppy remark, but I let it go, because when I was fourteen, it was probably embarrassingly accurate.
“Merry,” Galen said, “you’re blushing.”
I covered my face with my hands, because I rarely if ever blushed. I wasn’t blushing for me now, but for that long ago girl. The girl that I had been would have been mortified to know that her “secret” love was no secret at all.
Hands touched my wrists. “Merry.” Galen’s voice was as gentle as his hands, as he moved mine away from my face. “You blushed for me.”
I actually couldn’t look at him. “It’s just the thought that everyone knew. I didn’t know I was being that obvious when I was fourteen.”
“We’re all that obvious when we’re fourteen,” he said with a smile.
“It’s been a few centuries since I was fourteen,” Nicca said, “but if memory serves, Galen’s right.”
Kitto’s comment was, “The goblins are not a subtle race.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” Galen asked.
“It means that if a goblin lusts after another, everyone knows it. We do not see the point of hiding our admiration, unless we fear the goblin we lust after will take it as an insult. We are not subtle, but we can hide what we feel if we must.”
I held my hand out to him, palm up. He took my hand, looking puzzled. “What would you have of me, Princess?”
“A smile,” I said.
He looked even more puzzled.
Galen explained, “She wants to chase that shadow from your eyes.”
Kitto rewarded us both with a shy smile, then shook his head. “I like being sidhe.”
I squeezed his hand and would have said something comforting, but Nicca chose that moment to play his hand between my legs and suddenly I couldn’t think of any words.
“You’re not wet enough,” Nicca said.
It took me two swallows to say with a suddenly dry throat, “Bath, always does that.”
“Odd that such wetness makes a woman dry,” he said, and his finger found my opening, slipped inside. It made me gasp, made my hand convulse around Kitto’s. Nicca moved his finger inside me, gently, slowly. “I am not so large as some, but not small either. This dry it will hurt.”
My voice came breathy.