The Taming by Jude Deveraux - England's most valiant knights paid court to wealthy Liana Neville, but only the infamous warrior Rogan Peregrine made no. The Taming Peregrine 1 Jude Deveraux - [PDF] [EPUB] The Taming Peregrine 1 Jude. Deveraux Jude Deveraux (born September 20, in. England's most valiant knights paid court to wealthy Liana Neville, but only the infamous warrior Rogan Peregrine made no secret of his powerful desires.
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Read The Taming by Jude Deveraux for free with a 30 day free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android. (c) >>> page 1 of 8 PDF File: b Taming x By Jude Deveraux [KINDLE PDF EBOOK EPUB]. DOWNLOAD OR READ: THE TAMING PEREGRINE 1 JUDE DEVERAUX PDF EBOOK EPUB MOBI. Page 1. Page 2. Page 2. Page 3. the taming peregrine 1.
And the food! No more navy chow, just fish, lobster, shrimp, conch, and— Cut your motor, he half shouted at Bill. Bill obeyed and eased the motorboat onto the narrow white sand beach. Holding his left leg stiff in order to minimize the pulling of the burned skin, J. Last chance, Bill said, handing J. You can still change your mind. I can take a hint, you want me gone.
Sunday night, J. All right, Sunday night. All right, J. Some joker, Bill said, the smile leaving his face. His buxom little wife was the love of his life; each day he still marveled that she had married someone like him. For all that J. Bill revved the engine and backed off the narrow beach with J.
The smell of decaying sea matter, the salt air, the wind on the mangrove trees behind him made him feel almost at home. In another minute he had grabbed most of his things and was heading north along the beach. Nearly a year ago when the navy had first sent him to Key West to supervise their ship repair operation, he had seen this island through binoculars from the deck of a ship.
He had known then it was a place where he would like to spend time. Over the past year he had read a few books about the land around Key West and he had gotten an idea of what was involved in camping on a hostile mangrove island. Saying that the interior of a mangrove island was impenetrable was an understatement.
The branches of the trees that had formed the island hung down to the ground, creating a prison of woody stems. He meant to reach the freshwater cut in the center of the island.
It took him four hours of hard work to reach the cut and by that time he was down to his skivvies. Dolly was right in saying that he was too thin. He had lost weight in his three weeks in the hospital and the burns on the left side of his body were still pink and now beginning to itch from sweat. He stood panting for a moment and looked about him.
He was completely enclosed on three sides by the short, glossy-leaved mangrove trees, but in front of him was the cut of water and a small area of land and sea debris.
The water flowed out before him, its source hidden under the trees. There was room here for his tarp tent, a campfire, and his few provisions; it was all he needed. He wiped the sweat from his face and turned back down the path he had just made. The track had many twists and turns, and twice he had let it lapse, crawling under the looping, low branches for a while before starting to hack away again.
Several times German submarines had come into the Keys and J. It was sundown by the time he dragged all his things down the serpentine path, then, wearing only his shorts, boots, and a knife about his waist, he grabbed a johnny mop from his kit and went back to the beach. He removed his boots and walked into the warm water. There are definitely things to recommend this place, he said aloud, remembering the cold Maine water of his hometown.
When he was in water to his chest, he dove and easily swam underwater to the nearest bit of wreckage protruding from the water. Unfortunately, the war had left the shallow water near Key West littered with debris. The water was dark but J. He stuck the mop into a hole in what had once been part of a ship and twisted. When he pulled the mop out, the antennae of four lobsters were entangled in the threads of the mop.
One lobster got free before he got it to shore but he quickly pegged the claws of the other three and carried them back down the path. Moments later he had a fire going and a pot of water boiling. Deftly, with a practiced gesture, he pierced the spine of each lobster before dumping it into the water.
These lobsters were different from the ones he had grown up with, smaller, with spotted shells, but they turned red when cooked just the same. An hour later he tossed the empty shells into the water and smiled as he climbed into his hammock strung between two trees.
The air was balmy, the wind just barely moving. The water was lapping at the shore and his belly was full. For the first time since he had left home, he was at peace.
He slept soundly, more soundly than he had in a year, and dreamed of mounds of shrimp for breakfast. The sun rose and J. Somewhere his mind was rejoicing that there were no starched nurses shoving stainless steel trays under his nose at five A. He smiled in his sleep and dreamed of yellowtail snapper roasted over an open fire. When the shots came, he was too deeply asleep to even hear them, much less recognize them.
He had slept knowing that he was safe and now he somehow knew the shots were not aimed at him.
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Liana rode through the countryside and saw to fields and ordered broken roofs repaired. Liana decided when a castle had become too dirty and the crops depleted and told the retainers it was time to move. Three times in the last year Helen had first heard that they were moving when she saw a maid packing her bedding. It had done no good to explain to Gilbert or Liana that she, Helen, was now the lady of the manor and that Liana should relinquish her power to her stepmother.
Both of them had merely looked at Helen curiously, as if one of the stone heads of the gutters had begun to speak, then Liana had gone back to ruling and Gilbert had returned to doing nothing. Helen had tried to take charge on her own, and for a while she thought she was succeeding—until she found out that each servant was asking Liana for verification before carrying out her order. Gilbert had paid her little mind. Let Liana do what she likes.
You could no more stop Liana or her mother than you could stop the fall of a boulder. It was and is best to get out of their way. By morning she was ready to be a boulder, too.
She was older than Liana and, if need be, much more cunning. After her first husband had died and his younger brother had inherited the estates, Helen and her two little girls had been pushed aside by her sister-in-law.
Helen had had to stand by and watch as duties that had once been hers were taken over by a younger, much less competent woman. Helen had tried to talk to Liana, had tried to tell her of the pleasures of having her own husband, her own children, her own household. Liana had blinked at her with those big blue eyes of hers, looking as meek as an angel on the chapel ceiling.
Helen gritted her teeth. I will do what needs to be done. The sun would burn you in that. Helen found herself defending her words. I would dress suitably to ride a horse. You are nearly twenty years old.
You should have your own home, your own—. Yes, yes, Liana said. There was a fire in the village last night and I must see to the damage.
Helen had stood there, her face red, her temper black. Thick, colorful tapestries hung from every wall, every ceiling was painted with biblical scenes, every bed, table, and chair was covered with an embroidered cloth. Liana kept a roomful of women who did nothing but bend over tapestry frames and ply their needles.
The food was divine, as Liana enticed cooks with excellent wages and fur-trimmed gowns for their wives. The latrines, the moat, the stables, the courtyards were always clean, as Liana liked cleanliness.
Liana, Liana, Liana, Helen thought, putting her fists to her temples. Helen might not have existed for all the power she had in the running of the Neville properties.
Young Elizabeth had wanted a pony of her own, and Helen had smiled and said she could have it. It was that incident that had caused Helen to now give her husband an ultimatum.
I am less than nothing in this house, she said to Gilbert. Gilbert looked over the tray of meats that were molded into shapes of the twelve apostles. He chose St. Paul and popped him into his mouth. And what am I to do with her?
Comfort, a good hawk, a good hound, good food, and peace were all he asked in life. He had no idea what his first wife had done to increase the wealth his father had left him and the huge dowry she had brought to the marriage, nor did he know what his daughter did. To his mind, the estates ran themselves. The peasants farmed; the nobility hawked; the king made laws.
And it also seemed that women quarreled.
Her dark hair had been streaming down her back, her large breasts were nearly coming out of her gown, and the wind plastered her skirts to strong, healthy thighs. After one lusty wedding night, Gilbert was satisfied with Helen and expected her to go off and do whatever women did all day.
Instead, she had begun to nag and nag—about Liana, of all things. Liana was such a sweet, pretty child, always seeing that the musicians played songs that Gilbert liked, telling the maids to bring him food and, on long winter evenings, telling stories to entertain him. He could not understand why Helen wanted Liana to go away. Liana was so quiet, one hardly knew she was around.
I guess Liana can have a husband if she wants one, Gilbert said, yawning.
He believed in people doing what they wanted to. He thought the men worked in the fields from daylight to dark because they wanted to. Helen tried to calm herself. Whyever should she want a man to tell her what to do when she has absolute freedom—and absolute power—here? She threw up her hands in a gesture of helpless anger. Liana has heaven on earth.
She will never leave here. I will speak to Liana and see if there is a husband she wants. You have to command her to take a husband, Helen said. You have to choose a man for her and tell her she is to marry him. Gilbert looked down at his hound and smiled in memory. I am not about to make the same error again and cross her daughter. This new wife was as a kitten to a lion compared to his first wife. It had never crossed his mind that a person would actually want responsibility.
He picked up a molded St. Mark and ate it thoughtfully. Vaguely, he remembered someone warning him against having two women in the same household.
Perhaps he would talk to Liana and see what she thought of this idea of getting a husband. But if Liana did marry, perhaps she would marry someone with good breeding hawks. So, Liana said softly, my esteemed stepmother wants to throw me out of my own home, out of the home my mother worked to increase and I have managed for three years.
Gilbert thought perhaps his head was beginning to hurt. Helen had ranted at him for hours on end last night. It seems Liana had given some order for new cottages to be built in the walled town at the foot of the castle.
Helen was horrified that Liana planned to use Neville money to pay for these cottages rather than let the peasants pay for them themselves. They had been hooded to keep them calm and the blind, panicked flight had caused one bird to break its neck.
His first thought was to fit the two women with armor and let them joust for who remained and who left, but women had weapons harder than steel: They had words. With your own husband and a few brats.
Liana walked to the window and looked out across the inner courtyard, across the thick castle walls and below to the walled town.