Allain, P:Gardzienice: Polish Theatre in Transition (Contemporary Theatre Studies)
- pocketboek 2007, ISBN: 9789057021060
Pocket Books. Very Good. 4.19 x 1 x 6.75 inches. Mass Market Paperback. 2007. 384 pages. <br>The third book in the School for Heiressess series , by New York Times bestselling histo… Meer...
Pocket Books. Very Good. 4.19 x 1 x 6.75 inches. Mass Market Paperback. 2007. 384 pages. <br>The third book in the School for Heiressess series , by New York Times bestselling historical romance author Sabrina Jeffries, is a delightfully sexy regency-era romance. Lady Ven etia Campbell's visit to her childhood home in Scotland takes a d ramatic turn when she's kidnapped at pistol point by her father's sworn enemy. Sir Lachlan Ross is widely feared in his guise as T he Scottish Scourge, but Venetia remembers her former neighbor as a handsome youth whose attentions she craved. Now a wickedly sex y man, Lachlan's appeal is even more intoxicating...and much more dangerous. Though Lachlan tries to treat her as his foe, his sco rching kisses tell another story. And despite his plan to use her as a weapon against her father, Venetia is determined that Lachl an's lust for revenge will be trumped by an even more powerful de sire... Editorial Reviews From Booklist Nothing ruins a good va cation quite like being kidnapped, as Lady Venetia Campbell, who has returned home to Scotland for the first time in five years, l earns when she is captured by the Scottish Scourge. The sexy high wayman turns out to be Lachlan Ross, her old neighbor and friend in disguise. Ross refuses to let Venetia go until her father repa ys an old debt, but Venetia vows that Ross is going to rue the da y he decided to involve her in his plan for revenge. Two equally stubborn, delightfully strong-willed protagonists match wits and wiles with exceptionally entertaining and splendidly sexy results in the latest sparkling addition to Jeffries' School for Heiress es Regency romance series. Charles, John Review Expertly crafted and delectably sexy. -- Booklist About the Author Sabrina Jeffr ies is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of sev eral Regency-set historical romance series, including the Royal B rotherhood, the School for Heiresses, the Hellions of Halstead Ha ll, the Duke's Men, and the Sinful Suitors. When she's not writin g in a coffee-fueled haze, she's traveling with her husband, cari ng for her adult autistic son, or indulging in one of her passion s: jigsaw puzzles, chocolate, music, and costume parties. With mo re than nine million books in print in twenty languages, the Nort h Carolina author never regrets tossing aside a budding career in academics for the sheer joy of writing fun fiction and hopes tha t one day a book of hers will end up saving the world. She always dreams big. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights rese rved. Beware a Scot's Revenge By Sabrina Jeffries Pocket Copyr ight © 2007 Sabrina Jeffries All right reserved. ISBN: 978141 6516101 Chapter One Edinburgh August 20, 1822 Dear Cousin, I worry about Venetia's trip to Scotland. Yes, I know what the pap ers reported -- that the Scottish Scourge was killed three months ago in a fight with Sir Lachlan Ross that left both men dead. St ill, considering the Scourge's mysterious grievance against the e arl, I'd feel easier if someone could produce the villain's body. Your anxious relation, Charlotte Mama would have loved this, Venetia said wistfully to her aunt, Maggie Douglas, the Viscounte ss Kerr. They stood in line waiting to be announced at the True H ighlander Celtic Society's masquerade ball, now near enough to he ar bagpipes skirling from inside the Edinburgh Assembly Rooms. Do n't you just adore the tartans and strathspeys and costumes and - - -- packed streets and wretched food and ghastly accommodatio ns? Aunt Maggie rolled her green eyes, the same shade as her niec e's. Not a bit. Unlike you -- and my sister, when she was alive - - I prefer the comforts of London. Why, I haven't had a wink of s leep since we arrived. So the snoring I hear nightly comes from our baggage? Venetia teased. Mind your tongue, or I'll make you take the lumpy side of the mattress. Venetia laughed. Forgive me . You've been very good to put up with it. Their lodgings truly were awful, but they'd been lucky even to find them. Every spare bedroom, garret, and cellar had been spoken for by the hordes tha t had descended upon Edinburgh to witness the first visit of a re igning English monarch to Scotland in nearly two centuries. But Venetia didn't mind their miserable inn room. She'd waited sixtee n years to return to Scotland, and she wouldn't let a flat pillow and a lumpy mattress -- or a grousing chaperone -- dampen her pl easure. Venetia squeezed her aunt's hand as the line moved forwa rd. You can't know how much I appreciate your accompanying me. Ot herwise, I would never have convinced Papa to let me come. I'm r ather shocked that you did. However did you manage it? Oh, Papa is easy enough to handle. I only had to make one tiny promise. A nd what was that? She cast her aunt a game smile. To accept a pr oposal of marriage in the next year. That isn't exactly a tiny p romise, my dear. And who is the lucky fellow? Lord, I don't know . Anyone I can endure, I suppose. And anyone passing the inspecti on of Mrs. Charlotte Harris and the mysterious Cousin Michael, wh o routinely provided information about men in society to Venetia' s schoolmistress. Papa worries I'll never find a husband, Veneti a explained. In truth, she'd begun to worry the same thing. A la dy like you will always have proposals, her aunt said with a dism issive wave of her jeweled fingers. It's not a dearth of proposa ls that worries him. It's my lack of interest in any of them. She 'd promised her mother never to marry any man who didn't rouse he r senses, whatever that meant. When Mama had elicited the promise , she hadn't said it was because of Papa, but Venetia often wonde red... So have you any particular men in mind? her aunt asked. She blew out a long breath. No, but I hope to find someone in Sco tland, away from the fortune hunters and dull-witted English lord s. I want a Scottish laird with a venerable old name, who lives a nd breathes the Highlands -- Like the fellows in those ballads you love to collect, I suppose. Her aunt's contempt was plain. W hy not? Venetia said defensively. Why shouldn't I have a Duncan G raeme or a Highland Laddie who'll carry me off to his manor in th e Highlands to live in connubial bliss? Because you're about as Scottish as the Queen of England, my dear. That's not true! she said, thoroughly insulted. You've got too many fine manners and too much English deportment for a country that thinks a good even ing's entertainment is a jar of whisky and a rough brawl. You wou ldn't last one day with a 'Highland Laddie' before you wanted to hit him over the head with the jar. That might be the case, but she didn't feel any more comfortable in England. When she lost he r temper, people called her that Scottish termagant. Too much res erve, and they said she was a haughty Scot. And when Papa fell in to his heavy brogue, she always had to interpret it for others. A s if he were foreign, for pity's sake! Then there was the insidi ouly superior manner of the English toward their lesser Scottish subjects, which even Aunt Maggie had adopted after her years marr ied to an Englishman. She scowled at her aunt, who didn't even no tice. You're certainly wearing the right costume for catching yo ur ballad hero husband. Aunt Maggie lifted her white silk mask to survey Venetia's gown of simple worsted. Highlanders practically worship Flora MacDonald. As well they should. She saved Bonnie Prince Charlie. Yes, yes, but it's a pity she had to dress like a farmer's daughter. She was a farmer's daughter. Venetia adjust ed her own silk mask. And I had quite a difficult time finding th e right gown, so don't make fun. Fortunately she and Flora both h ad black hair and fair skin, so they resembled each other. At le ast the color is good. You look well in burgundy. So do you. Ven etia bit back a smile. Who are you supposed to be again? Don't b e impertinent. You should be glad I bothered to wear a mask. If n ot for that old fool, the colonel, twisting my arm, I wouldn't ev en be here. Colonel Hugh Seton was one of the hosts of the ball and, unless Venetia missed her guess, quite enamored of Aunt Magg ie, given how he'd tracked them down at their inn after their arr ival. He's rather forceful, isn't he? Forceful? Her aunt snorted . He's mad. Why would the Celtic Society put a blustery cavalry o fficer in charge of a ball? Heaven only knows what nightmare of b ad taste awaits us -- he probably had them perch saddles on the c hairs. She scowled at Venetia, who was laughing. What, pray tell, is so amusing? You! Venetia choked out between peals of laughte r. I thought you liked him, given how you chatted about my old sc hool yesterday. You told him his daughter is lovely. She is, but it's no thanks to him. Charlotte Harris is responsible for that. Aunt Maggie shook her head. The fellow patted my bottom as we we re leaving, for heaven's sake! The color in her cheeks showed she wasn't as affronted as she pretended. He illustrates perfectly w hat I mean about Highland Laddies. The impudent devil acts as if he's his daughter's age -- Her aunt broke off as they reached t he top, then whispered to the servant, who announced them as Mask ed Lady and Flora MacDonald. No one in the packed ballroom seeme d to heed their entrance, except a tall man near the doorway who swung around to stare at them when their names were announced. H e barely spared a glance for Aunt Maggie, but Venetia he assessed with a thorough, rather unsettling perusal. Then he lifted his g lass in a silent toast. Her English deportment demanded that she squelch such presumption from a stranger. But he was a particula rly attractive stranger and she was in costume, after all. Beside s, his Stuart tartan showed he was probably just playing Bonnie P rince Charlie to her Flora. So she acknowledged his toast with a nod... and made sure to look him over. Despite his brawny build and the jagged scar marring his high brow, he captured the royal manner to perfection. He suffered a white powdered wig with regal dignity, and he kept his posture stiff and his bearing as aloof as any monarch. But the rich chestnut-brown eyes gazing at her t hrough the black silk mask weren't remotely aloof. They burned wi th startling fierceness. And they seemed oddly familiar, too. Be fore she could wonder at that, Aunt Maggie was hurrying her to th e receiving line and Colonel Seton. Ah, you've come at last! the colonel exclaimed as he seized Venetia's hand, apparently recogn izing the two of them despite the masks. The widower looked rath er dashing tonight in the tartan of Robert the Bruce. With his fu ll head of steel-gray hair, his soldier's fit form, and his brill iant blue eyes, he cut quite a fine figure for a man well past fo rty. With a furtive glance somewhere behind her, he said in his usually booming voice, Delighted to have you here, Lady Venetia. Most delighted. Shh, Colonel, she chided. You aren't supposed to reveal my true identity until the unmasking. Right, right, forg ive me. Quite a blunder, what? It won't happen again, Flora. She laughed. I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. The place is probab ly filled with Flora MacDonalds and Bonnie Prince Charlies. No, indeed. We have princes to spare, but you are the only Flora. He leaned close with a conspiratorial air. The other ladies preferre d more ornate costumes. He slanted a glance at Aunt Maggie, then broke into a jovial smile. Like the fine one your companion is we aring. And who exactly is she dressed as? You didn't mention her costume yesterday. She's a queen, Venetia lied. Which one? he p ersisted. Come now, sir, her aunt said dryly. It should be obvio us that I'm -- Very pleased to be here, Venetia hastened to say . We both are. Excellent! He rubbed his hands together. Have you asked her about tomorrow, the outing to Holyrood Park? Yes, and she said she'd be delighted to go. 'Delighted' wasn't quite the word I used, Aunt Maggie muttered. What? Colonel Seton asked, b ending nearer to hear over the din. She said, 'Thank you for thi nking of us, sir.' When her aunt snorted, Venetia went on quickly , It's sure to be tedious in town tomorrow with no activities sch eduled for the king, so we're grateful for the diversion. Splend id! But are you sure you don't want to visit Rosslyn Chapel? No, indeed, her aunt cut in. I promised Venetia's father we wouldn't stray from Edinburgh. Venetia sighed. They'd arrived here by sh ip, so she'd barely seen any of the countryside. But the specter of the Scourge still haunted Papa and he wouldn't take the chance of her running afoul of any Scottish brigands. Then Holyrood Pa rk it is, the colonel said cheerily. We'll march up to Arthur's S eat after our picnic. The view is spectacular, though the climb i s hard. He seized Aunt Maggie's hand. I vow to help you every ste p of the way. I do not need your help, sir. Her cheeks pinkening , Aunt Maggie snatched back her hand. Nor have I given you permis sion to be so familiar with me. His jovial laugh showed he wasn' t the least put off. Indeed you have not, Your Majesty. He poked Venetia jocularly with his elbow. I hope she won't order me execu ted for my impertinence. Don't tempt me. With a sniff, Maggie tu rned to Venetia. Come, my dear, we're holding up the line. Laugh ing, Venetia followed her. As soon as they'd left the receiving l ine, she said, You've certainly made a conquest. Lord help me, h er aunt snapped, although her eyes shone brightly. Oh, he's not so bad. As they skirted the room, Venetia gestured to the masked guests swirling in a wave of tartan and splendid gowns. You see? Despite your fears, the ball is lovely -- very festive and Scotti sh, but tasteful. No doubt the other committee members voted dow n his more boorish ideas. They halted near a pillar. I only hope that he thought to designate a ladies' retiring room. I have need of it. What about you? I'm fine. I'll stay here. Very well, I shall return shortly. Her aunt cast her a teasing glance. Perhaps one of your ballad heroes will float by while I'm gone. Venetia frowned as her aunt walked off. Float by, indeed. Surely the da ncing's not so bad as all that, remarked a husky male voice at he r elbow. Venetia turned to find the Bonnie Prince Charlie from e arlier standing behind her. Speaking of ballad heroes... She trie, Pocket Books, 2007, 3, London: Everyman's Library. Good. 120 x 180mm. Paperback. 1972. 302 pages. Cover worn.<br>A high-seas adventure novel. Editorial Reviews About the Author Joseph Conrad was a Polish novelist wh o lived most of his life in Britain and didn't learn English unti l age 21. The young Conrad lived an adventurous life involving gu nrunning and political conspiracy, and apparently had a disastrou s love affair that plunged him into despair. He served 16 years i n the merchant navy.In 1894, at age 36, Conrad reluctantly gave u p the sea, partly because of poor health and partly because he ha d decided on a literary career. --This text refers to an out of p rint or unavailable edition of this title. From the Publisher 7 1.5-hour cassettes --This text refers to an out of print or unava ilable edition of this title. Review It is the subtilized past, through the aroma and the intuitive touches, which comes alive. ( The Times Literary Supplement (London)) --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. ., Everyman's Library, 1972, 2.5, Harwood Academic Publishers, 1997. This is an ex-library book and may have the usual library/used-book markings inside.This book has soft covers. In good all round condition. Please note the Image in this listing is a stock photo and may not match the covers of the actual item,500grams, ISBN:9789057021060, Harwood Academic Publishers, 1997, 0<