Книга только для ознакомления
. Forgive my
intrusion at this unseemly time of night."
"Welcome to Whitsund Manor, Sir Knight. I am not
lord of the manor, but its lady. I am Nikol, daughter to Sir
David Whitsund. Dismount your noble steed and give
yourself rest and ease this night. I regret I have no groom to
lead your horse to stable, but that task I will take upon
myself and count it an honor."
The knight, who traveled in full armor, the breastplate
decorated with the rose that marked his high standing in the
knighthood, removed his helm. Shocked, Michael moved a
step nearer Nikol.
"Forgive me, my lady," the knight was saying. "I can
only plead dusk's shadows as an excuse for having
mistaken noble lady for noble lord."
Nikol accepted the compliment with a smile and a nod,
turned her attention to the man's fine horse.
Michael could not take his eyes from the knight's face.
The strong and darkly handsome visage was gaunt and
haggard. He looked exhausted to the point of falling. But it
was the knight's eyes that arrested Michael, caused the
words of thanksgiving that had been on the cleric's lips to
die. The black eyes burned with a strange and terrible fire
that seemed to be consuming his flesh. So fey was the
knight that Michael feared they were dealing with a
madman. Nikol had not noticed. Her attention was for the
fine horse, which was accepting her overtures at friendship
with gracious forbearance.
"My lady," Michael began, licking dry lips, not certain
how to proceed. "I think perhaps
|
