excerpt
‘See? Finn MacLir, 1914. This book is almost thirty years old.’ She took the book from Joe’s lap. She did not look at him, as if she wanted to hide her face, and especially her eyes, and the feelings that they might reveal. She took a deep breath, like a sigh. ‘Here, let’s read something together,’ she said, turning the pages. She rose to her knees and straightened her back so that they could both see the book, opened now at a different page. ‘You start,’ she prompted. ‘Here at Christy’s speech. I’ll do Pegeen’s part.’
With reluctance he tried not to show, Joe began to read with some faltering where Nora’s finger pointed. ‘‘‘Yourself and me should be pacing Neifin in the dews of night, the time’s sweet smells do be rising, and you’d see a little shiny new moon, maybe, sinking on the hills.’’’
‘‘‘And it’s that kind of a poacher’s love you’d make, Christy Mahon,’’’ Nora read, ‘‘‘on the sides of Neifin, when the night is down?’’’
‘‘‘It’s little you’ll think if my love’s a poacher’s, or an earl’s itself, when you’ll feel my two hands stretched around you, and I squeezing kisses on your puckered lips, till I’d feel a kind of pity for the Lord God, all ages sitting lonesome in his golden chair.’’’
Nora did not read any more. She stared at Joe’s face with the soft-edged light of love in her eyes, and her moist lips parted in a shy smile that was strangely both innocent and seductive.
‘Are you going to show me your poacher’s love, Joe Carney?’
‘Like you’ve never known love in your life before, Nora Dooley.’
Libros Libertad 