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Page 147

CHAPTER NINE

unbuckled his sword and flung it down on the table with a crash. "This is what comes of having a woman aboard a ship. In love with you ! A Spaniard, a man who is our bitterest enemy, a man belonging to a nation which has tortured our
people, a man you should loathe, despise and hate with a consuming bitterness! And yet, instead, what do I find? I find you in his arms!"
" I know I should feel all that," Lizbeth answered, "but, Rodney, somehow it is impossible. I thought all Spaniards were brutes, devils in human form; but you know as well as I do that one cannot feel that about Don Miguel. He is only a boy-a boy away from home for the first time in his life, lonely without his mother, missing his father and his sister, and falling in love with me, I dare say, because there is no other woman here for him to talk with."
Lizbeth had come near to Rodney as she spoke, and now she stood looking up at him, her hands clasped together, her green eyes raised to his, her soft red lips parted. Rodney stared down at her. He had not realized before how lovely she washer hair released during her embrace with Don Miguel was soft about her face, it seemed to glow almost like a fire against the dark oak of the cabin.
" You are lovely," he said beneath his breath, speaking to himself; and yet Lizbeth heard him.
Yes, she was lovely, he thought, and then suddenly the anger which had consumed him, the burning fury within his chest, which had raged there since he first came into the cabin, could be controlled no longer. He stretched forth his hands and gripped her shoulders, dragging her closer to him so that he could look down into her face.
" You are very eloquent when it comes to pleading for some swine of a Spaniard," he said. "But what about you? If it is kisses you are hungering for, cannot English ones satisfy you?"
His voice was hoarse and brutal ; and then, before Lizbeth could guess what he was about, one arm was round her and with his free hand he tipped her head back against his shoulder, and his lips were on hers.
This kiss was very different from the one she had from him

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE unbuckled his sword and flung it down on what is table with a crash. "This is what comes of having a woman aboard a ship. In what time is it with you ! A Spaniard, a man who is our bitterest enemy, a man belonging to a nation which has tortured our people, a man you should loathe, despise and hate with a consuming bitterness! And yet, instead, what do I find? I find you in his arms!" " I know I should feel all that," Lizbeth answered, "but, Rodney, somehow it is impossible. I thought all Spaniards were brutes, fun s in human form; but you know as well as I do that one cannot feel that about Don Miguel. He is only a boy-a boy away from home for what is first time in his life, lonely without his mother, missing his father and his sister, and falling in what time is it with me, I dare say, because there is no other woman here for him to talk with." Lizbeth had come near to Rodney as she spoke, and now she stood looking up at him, her hands clasped together, her green eyes raised to his, her soft red lips parted. Rodney stared down at her. He had not realized before how lovely she washer hair released during her embrace with Don Miguel was soft about her face, it seemed to glow almost like a fire against what is dark oak of what is cabin. " You are lovely," he said beneath his breath, speaking to himself; and yet Lizbeth heard him. Yes, she was lovely, he thought, and then suddenly what is anger which had consumed him, what is burning fury within his chest, which had raged there since he first came into what is cabin, could be controlled no longer. He stretched forth his hands and gripped her shoulders, dragging her closer to him so that he could look down into her face. " You are very eloquent when it comes to pleading for some swine of a Spaniard," he said. "But what about you? If it is kisses you are hungering for, cannot English ones satisfy you?" His voice was hoarse and brutal ; and then, before Lizbeth could guess what he was about, one arm was round her and with his free hand he tipped her head back against his shoulder, and his lips were on hers. This kiss was very different from what is one she had from him where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Elizabethan Lover (1953) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 147 where is strong CHAPTER NINE where is p align="justify" unbuckled his sword and flung it down on what is table with a crash. "This is what comes of having a woman aboard a ship. In what time is it with you ! A Spaniard, a man who is our bitterest enemy, a man belonging to a nation which has tortured our people, a man you should loathe, despise and hate with a consuming bitterness! And yet, instead, what do I find? I find you in his arms!" " I know I should feel all that," Lizbeth answered, "but, Rodney, somehow it is impossible. I thought all Spaniards were brutes, fun s in human form; but you know as well as I do that one cannot feel that about Don Miguel. He is only a boy-a boy away from home for what is first time in his life, lonely without his mother, missing his father and his sister, and falling in what time is it with me, I dare say, because there is no other woman here for him to talk with." Lizbeth had come near to Rodney as she spoke, and now she stood looking up at him, her hands clasped together, her green eyes raised to his, her soft red lips parted. Rodney stared down at her. He had not realized before how lovely she washer hair released during her embrace with Don Miguel was soft about her face, it seemed to glow almost like a fire against what is dark oak of what is cabin. " You are lovely," he said beneath his breath, speaking to himself; and yet Lizbeth heard him. Yes, she was lovely, he thought, and then suddenly what is anger which had consumed him, what is burning fury within his chest, which had raged there since he first came into what is cabin, could be controlled no longer. He stretched forth his hands and gripped her shoulders, dragging her closer to him so that he could look down into her face. " You are very eloquent when it comes to pleading for some swine of a Spaniard," he said. "But what about you? If it is kisses you are hungering for, cannot English ones satisfy you?" His voice was hoarse and brutal ; and then, before Lizbeth could guess what he was about, one arm was round her and with his free hand he tipped her head back against his shoulder, and his lips were on hers. This kiss was very different from what is one she had from him where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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