Читать книгу The Red Saint онлайн
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“Are you mad, lord; you will die of your wilfulness!”
She put her arm about his shoulders, and her hair brushed against his cheek.
“Denise, if I could so much as crawl——”
His wistfulness woke a rush of tenderness in her.
“No, no, rest here.”
“Rest! I cannot rest, cannot you understand?”
Denise’s arm was still about his shoulders. They looked into each other’s eyes, one long look full of mystery, of sadness, and unrest.
“My heart understands you,” she said very softly. “Yet, is there shame in my wishing you to live.”
She let him lie back on the bed, and taking the wine, she made him drink, and her hand brushed the hair from off his forehead.
“You must sleep,” she said. “No harm can come while I am watching.”
And Aymery’s eyes were full of a silent awe.
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