Deutsch
Deutschland
Anmelden
Tipp von eurobuch.com
Ähnliche Bücher
Buch verkaufen
Anbieter, die das Buch mit der ISBN 0439368294 ankaufen:
Suchtools
Buchtipps
Aktuelles
FILTER
- 0 Ergebnisse
Kleinster Preis: 0,08 €, größter Preis: 9,45 €, Mittelwert: 3,39 €
THE YOUNG MAN AND THE SEA - Philbrick, Rodman
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Philbrick, Rodman:
THE YOUNG MAN AND THE SEA - Taschenbuch

2004, ISBN: 9780439368292

ID: 909715634

US: Pocket Books. Mass Market Paperback. 0671739727 Book Description Bronwyn MacArran was a proud Scot. Stephen Montgomery was one of the hated English. He came to Scotland as a conqueror, saw her beauty and was vanquished. But still she would abhor him. She owned a temper hot enough to forge the armors of battle or inflame a valiant soldier's passion. Yet still she would resist him. She became his reason to live, his reason to love. And still she would deny him. But while clan fought clan, while brother took up sword against brother, and the highlands ran with blood -- their destiny was made...and this mighty warrior pledged himself to his woman's pride, her honor and her name -- and made of their love a torch to burn through the ages! Editorial Reviews About the Author Jude Deveraux is the author of more than forty New York Times bestsellers, including Moonlight in the Morning, The Scent of Jasmine, Scarlet Nights, Days of Gold, Lavender Morning, Return to Summerhouse, and Secrets. To date, there are more than sixty million copies of her books in print worldwide. To learn more, visit JudeDeveraux.com. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One 1501 Bronwyn MacArran stood at the window of the English manor house, looking down at the courtyard below. The mullioned window was open against the warm summer sun. She leaned forward slightly to catch a whiff of fresh air. As she did so, one of the soldiers below grinned up at her suggestively. She stepped back quickly, grabbed the window, and slammed it shut. She turned away angrily. "The English pigs!" Bronwyn cursed under her breath. Her voice was soft, full of the heather and mist of the Highlands. Heavy footsteps sounded outside her door, and she caught her breath, then released it when they went past. She was a prisoner, held captive on England's northernmost border by men she'd always hated, men who now smiled and winked at her as if they were intimate with her most private thoughts. She walked to a small table in the center of the oak-paneled room. She clutched the edge of it, letting the wood cut into her palms. She'd do anything to keep those men from seeing how she felt inside. The English were her enemies. She'd seen them kill her father, his three chieftains. She'd seen her brother driven nearly insane with his futile attempts to repay the English in their own kind. And all her life she'd helped feed and clothe the members of her clan after the English had destroyed their crops and burned their houses. A month ago the English had taken her prisoner. Bronwyn smiled in memory of the wounds she and her men had inflicted upon the English soldiers. Later four of them had died. But in the end she was taken, by the order of the English Henry VII. The man said he wanted peace and therefore would name an Englishman as chief of Clan MacArran. He thought he could do this by marrying one of his knights to Bronwyn. She smiled at the ignorance of the English king. She was chief of Clan MacArran, and no man would take her power away. The stupid king thought her men would follow a foreigner, an Englishman, rather than their own chief because she was a woman. How little Henry knew of the Scots! She turned suddenly as Rab growled. He was an Irish wolfhound, the largest dog in the world, rangy, strong, hair like soft steel. Her father had given her the dog four years ago when Jamie'd returned from a trip to Ireland. Jamie had meant to have the dog trained as his daughter's guardian, but there was no need. Rab and Bronwyn took to each other immediately, and Rab had often shown that he'd give his life for his beloved mistress. Bronwyn's muscles relaxed when Rab's growl stopped -- only a friend produced such a reaction. She looked up expectantly. It was Morag who entered. Morag was a short, gnarled old woman, looking more like a dark burl of wood than a human being. Her eyes were like black glass, sparkling, penetrating, seeing more of a person than what was on the surface. She used her lithe little body to advantage, often slipping unnoticed amid people, her eyes and ears open. Morag moved silently across the room and opened the window. "Well?" Bronwyn demanded impatiently. "I saw ye slam the window. They laughed and said they'd take over the weddin' night ye'd be missin'." Bronwyn turned away from the old woman. "Ye give them too much to speak of. Ye should hold yer head high and ignore them. They're only Englishmen, while ye're a MacArran." Bronwyn whirled. "I don't need anyone to tell me how to act," she snapped. Rab, aware of his mistress's distress, came to stand beside her. She buried her fingers in his fur. Morag smiled at her, then watched as the girt moved toward the window seat. She had been placed in Morag's arms when Bronwyn was still wet from her birth. Morag had held the tiny bairn as she watched the mother die. It'd been Morag who'd found a wet nurse for the girl, who'd given her the name of her Welsh grandmother, and who'd cared for her until she was six and her father'd taken over. It was with pride that Morag looked at her charge now nearly twenty years old. Bronwyn was tall, taller than most men and as straight and supple as a reed. She didn't cover her hair like the Englishwoman, but let it flow down her back in a rich cascade. It was raven-black and so thick and heavy it was a wonder her slender neck could support the weight. She wore a satin dress in the English style. It was the color of the cream from the Highland cattle. The square neck was low and tight, showing Bronwyn's firm young breasts to advantage. It fit like skin to her small waist, then belled out in rich folds. Embroidery entwined with thin gold strands edged both the neck and the waist and fell in an intricate waterfall down the skirt. "Do I meet your approval?" Bronwyn asked sharply, still irritated over their quarrel about the English attire. She bad preferred Highland clothes, but Morag persuaded her to wear English garb, telling her to give the enemy no reason to laugh at her in what they referred to as "barbaric dress." Morag chuckled dryly. "I was thinkin' it was a shame no man would be takin' that gown from ye tonight." "An Englishman!" Bronwyn hissed. "Do you forget that so soon? Has the red of my father's blood faded before your eyes?" "Ye know it hasn't," Morag said quietly. Bronwyn sat down heavily on the window seat, the satin of the dress flowing about her. She ran her finger along the heavy embroidery. The dress had cost her a great deal, money that could have been spent on her clan. But she knew they would not have wanted to be shamed before the Englishmen, so she bought dresses that would have been the pride of any queen. Only this gown was to have been her wedding dress. She plucked violently at a piece of gold thread. "Here!" Morag commanded. "Don't destroy the dress because ye're mad at one Englishman. Perhaps the man had a reason to be late and miss his own weddin'." Bronwyn stood up quickly, causing Rab to move protectively to her side. "What do I care if the man never appears? I hope he had his throat cut and lies rotting in some ditch." Morag shrugged. "They'll only find ye a new husband, so what does it matter if this one dies or not? The sooner ye have yer English husband, the sooner we can go back to the Highlands." "It's easy for you to say!" Bronwyn snapped. "It's not you who must wed him and...and..." Morag's little black eyes danced. "And bed him? Is that what's worryin' ye? I'd gladly trade with ye if I could. Think this Stephen Montgomery would notice 'twere I to slip into his bed?" "What do I know of Stephen Montgomery except that he has no more respect for me than to leave me waiting in my wedding dress? You say the men laugh at me. The man who is to be my husband holds me up for their ridicule." She squinted at the door. "Were he to come through there now, I'd gladly take a knife to him." Morag smiled. Jamie MacArran would have been proud of his daughter. Even when she was still held prisoner she kept her pride and her spirit. Now she held her chin high, her eyes flashing with daggers of crystal-blue ice. Bronwyn was startlingly beautiful. Her hair was as black as a moonless midnight in the Scots mountains, her eyes as deep blue as the water of a sunlit loch. The contrast was arresting. It wasn't unusual for people, especially men, to be struck speechless the first time they saw her. Her lashes were thick and dark, her skin fine and creamy. Her lips of dark red were set above her father's chin, strong, square on the tip, and slightly cleft. "They'll think ye're a coward if ye hide in this room. What Scot is afraid of the smirks of an Englishman?" Bronwyn stiffened her back and looked down at the cream-colored gown. When she'd dressed that morning, she thought to be wed in the dress. Now it was hours past time for the marriage ceremony, and her bridegroom had not shown himself, nor had he sent any message of excuse or apology. "Help me unfasten this thing," Bronwyn said. The gown would have to be kept fresh until she did marry. If not today, then at another time. And perhaps to another man. The thought made her smile. "What are ye plannin'?" Morag asked, her hands at the back of Bronwyn's dress. "Ye've a look of the cat that got the cream." "You ask too many questions. Fetch me that green brocade gown. The Englishmen may think I'm a bride in tears at being snubbed, but they'll soon find the Scots are made of sterner stuff." Even though she was a prisoner and had been for over a month, Bronwyn was allowed the freedom of Sir Thomas Crichton's manor. She could walk about the house and, with an escort, on the grounds. The estate was heavily guarded, watched constantly. King Henry had told Bronwyn's clan that if a rescue attempt were made, she would be executed. No harm would come to her, but he meant to put an Englishman in the chiefship. The clan had recently seen the death of Jamie MacArran as well as of his three chieftains. The Scots retreated to watch their new laird held captive and planned what they'd do when the king's men dared to try to command them. Bronwyn slowly descended the stairs to the hall below. She knew her clansmen waited patiently just outside the grounds, hiding in the forest on the constantly turbulent border between England and Scotland. For herself she did not care if she died rather than accept the English dog she was to marry, but her death would cause strife within the clan. Jamie MacArran had designated his daughter as his successor, and she was to have married one of the chieftains who had died with her father. If Bronwyn were to die without issue, there would no doubt be a bloody battle over who would be the next laird. "I always knew the Montgomerys were smart men," laughed a man standing a few feet from Bronwyn. A thick tapestry hid her from his view. "Look at the way the eldest married that Revedoune heiress. He'd hardly got out of his marriage bed when her father was killed and he inherited the earldom." "And now Stephen is following in his brother's footsteps. Not only is this Bronwyn beautiful, but she owns hundreds of acres of land." "You can say what you like," said a third man. His sleeve was empty, his left arm missing. "But I don't envy Stephen. The woman is magnificent, but how long will he be able to enjoy her? I lost this fighting those devils in Scotland. They're only half human, I tell you. They grow up learning nothing but plunder and robbery. And they fight more like animals than men. They're a crude, savage lot." "And I heard their women stink to high heaven," the first man said. "For that black-haired Bronwyn I'd learn to hold my nose." Bronwyn took a step forward, a feral snarl on her lips. When a hand caught her arm, she looked up into a young man's face. He was handsome, with dark eyes, a firm mouth. Her eyes were on a level with his. "Allow me, my lady," he said quietly. He stepped forward to the group of men. His strong legs were encased in tight hose, his velvet jacket emphasizing the width of his shoulders. "Have you nothing better to do than gossip like old women? You talk of things you know nothing about." His voice was commanding. The three men looked startled. "Why, Roger, what's wrong with you?" one asked, then stared over Roger's shoulder and saw Bronwyn, her eyes glittering in stormy anger. "I think Stephen had better come soon and guard his property," one of the other men laughed. "Get out of here!" Roger ordered. "Or shall I draw my sword to get your attention?" "Deliver me from the hot blood of youth," one man said wearily. "Go to her. Come, the outside is cooler. The passions have more room to expand in the out-of-doors." When the men were gone, Roger turned back to Bronwyn. "May I apologize for my countrymen? Their rudeness is based on ignorance. They meant no harm." Bronwyn glared at him. "I fear it is you who are ignorant. They meant great harm, or do you consider murdering Scots no sin?" "I protest! You're unfair to me. I have killed few men in my life and no Scots." He paused. "May I introduce myself? I am Roger Chatworth." He swept his velvet cap from his head and bowed low before her. "And I, sir, am Bronwyn MacArran, prisoner to the English and, of late, discarded bride." "Lady Bronwyn, will you walk with me in the garden? Perhaps the sunshine will take away some of the misery Stephen has foisted upon you." She turned and walked beside him. At least he might keep the guards from tossing rude jests at her. Once they were outside, she spoke again. "You speak Montgomery's name as if you know him." "Have you not met him yourself?" Bronwyn whirled on him. "Since when have I been afforded any courtesy by your English king? My father thought enough of me to name me laird of Clan MacArran, but your king thinks I have too little sense to even choose my own husband. No, I have not seen this Stephen Montgomery, nor do I know anything about him. I was told one morning I was to marry him. Since then he has not so much as acknowledged my presence. " Roger lifted a handsome eyebrow at her. Her hostility made her eyes sp, Pocket Books, 1991, Blue Sky Pr., 2004. a fine soft-bound advance reading copy suitable for ages nine and up. Skiff Beaman has lots of problems. Ever since his mother died, his father is glued to the T.V. couch, even when his fishing boat, the "Mary Rose" sinks at the dock. The boy has been bailing out the boat for months, getting up before dawn to pump out the bilge and keep her abreast---hoping his dad will pull himself together and go fishing. Now the boat is under and can't be bailed out any longer, what will happen now? A good yarn about a boy who can't give up though challenged to the limit. A good character study and plot.. First Edition., Blue Sky Pr., 2004

gebrauchtes bzw. antiquarisches Buch Biblio.com
Robinson Street Books, IOBA, Mysteries Plus
Versandkosten: EUR 9.45
Details...
(*) Derzeit vergriffen bedeutet, dass dieser Titel momentan auf keiner der angeschlossenen Plattform verfügbar ist.
The Young Man And The Sea - Rodman Philbrick
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Rodman Philbrick:
The Young Man And The Sea - gebunden oder broschiert

ISBN: 0439368294

[SR: 1421517], Hardcover, [EAN: 9780439368292], Blue Sky Press, Blue Sky Press, Book, [PU: Blue Sky Press], Blue Sky Press, Award winner Rodman Philbrick's powerful middle-grade novel is a story of determination and survival--of a boy's exhilirating encounter with a fish that first nearly kills him but then saves his life.This starkly dramatic yet poignant novel takes readers on an exciting journey with 12-year-old Skiff Beaman, a determined boy from a small Maine town. Skiff's mom died recently, and his fisherman dad won't get off the TV couch to do anything but get another beer, so these days Skiff has to take care of everything himself. When their boat sinks, Skiff discovers it will cost thousands to buy her a new engine. Skiff's lobster traps won't earn him enough, but there are bigger fish in the sea--bluefin tuna. If he can catch one, he just might save the boat--and get his family back on its feet again., 3061, Parents, 3045, Family Life, 1084192, Growing Up & Facts of Life, 4, Children's Books, 1000, Subjects, 283155, Books, 3160, Self-Esteem & Self-Respect, 7009087011, Friendship, Social Skills & School Life, 1084192, Growing Up & Facts of Life, 4, Children's Books, 1000, Subjects, 283155, Books, 2966, Literature & Fiction, 3564979011, Chapter Books & Readers, 2926, Historical Fiction, 15356881, Literary Criticism & Collections, 3004, Poetry, 3113, Religious Fiction, 3019, Short Story Collections, 4, Children's Books, 1000, Subjects, 283155, Books, 2967, Action & Adventure, 4, Children's Books, 1000, Subjects, 283155, Books

gebrauchtes bzw. antiquarisches Buch Amazon.com
onceuponatimebooks
Gebraucht. Versandkosten:Usually ships in 1-2 business days., zzgl. Versandkosten
Details...
(*) Derzeit vergriffen bedeutet, dass dieser Titel momentan auf keiner der angeschlossenen Plattform verfügbar ist.
The Young Man and the Sea - Rodman Philbrick
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Rodman Philbrick:
The Young Man and the Sea - gebrauchtes Buch

ISBN: 0439368294

ID: 3529073

Award winner Rodman Philbrick's powerful middle-grade novel is a story of determination and survival--of a boy's exhilirating encounter with a fish that first nearly kills him but then saves his life. This starkly dramatic yet poignant novel takes readers on an exciting journey with 12-year-old Skiff Beaman, a determined boy from a small Maine town. Skiff's mom died recently, and his fisherman dad won't get off the TV couch to do anything but get another beer, so these days Skiff has to take care of everything himself. When their boat sinks, Skiff discovers it will cost thousands to buy her a new engine. Skiff's lobster traps won't earn him enough, but there are bigger fish in the sea--bluefin tuna. If he can catch one, he just might save the boat--and get his family back on its feet again. action and adventure,boys and men,children's,children's books,education and reference,family life,friendship social skills and school life,growing up and facts of life,literature and fiction,parents Water Sports, Scholastic, Incorporated

gebrauchtes bzw. antiquarisches Buch Thriftbooks.com
used. Versandkosten:zzgl. Versandkosten.
Details...
(*) Derzeit vergriffen bedeutet, dass dieser Titel momentan auf keiner der angeschlossenen Plattform verfügbar ist.
The Young Man And The Sea - Rodman Philbrick
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Rodman Philbrick:
The Young Man And The Sea - gebrauchtes Buch

ISBN: 0439368294

ID: 3529073

Award winner Rodman Philbrick's powerful middle-grade novel is a story of determination and survival--of a boy's exhilirating encounter with a fish that first nearly kills him but then saves his life.This starkly dramatic yet poignant novel takes readers on an exciting journey with 12-year-old Skiff Beaman, a determined boy from a small Maine town. Skiff's mom died recently, and his fisherman dad won't get off the TV couch to do anything but get another beer, so these days Skiff has to take care of everything himself. When their boat sinks, Skiff discovers it will cost thousands to buy her a new engine. Skiff's lobster traps won't earn him enough, but there are bigger fish in the sea--bluefin tuna. If he can catch one, he just might save the boat--and get his family back on its feet again. action and adventure,boys and men,children's,children's books,education and reference,family life,friendship social skills and school life,growing up and facts of life,literature and fiction,parents Water Sports, Blue Sky Press

gebrauchtes bzw. antiquarisches Buch Thriftbooks.com
used Versandkosten:zzgl. Versandkosten
Details...
(*) Derzeit vergriffen bedeutet, dass dieser Titel momentan auf keiner der angeschlossenen Plattform verfügbar ist.
The Young Man And The Sea - Rodman Philbrick
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Rodman Philbrick:
The Young Man And The Sea - gebunden oder broschiert

ISBN: 9780439368292

ID: 881681642

Blue Sky Press. Hardcover. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Possible ex library copy, that’ll have the markings and stickers associated from the library. Accessories such as CD, codes, toys, may not be included., Blue Sky Press

gebrauchtes bzw. antiquarisches Buch Biblio.com
Discover Books
Versandkosten: EUR 7.59
Details...
(*) Derzeit vergriffen bedeutet, dass dieser Titel momentan auf keiner der angeschlossenen Plattform verfügbar ist.

Details zum Buch
The Young Man and the Sea

From the award-winning author of "Freak the Mighty" comes this seafaring adventure. After his mother's death and father's ensuing depression, 12-year-old Skiff Beaman plans to trap lobsters to earn money. But when that plan is foiled, Skiff goes after a bigger fish in the sea.

Detailangaben zum Buch - The Young Man and the Sea


EAN (ISBN-13): 9780439368292
ISBN (ISBN-10): 0439368294
Gebundene Ausgabe
Taschenbuch
Erscheinungsjahr: 2004
Herausgeber: BLUE SKY PR
192 Seiten
Gewicht: 0,336 kg
Sprache: eng/Englisch

Buch in der Datenbank seit 28.03.2007 12:40:51
Buch zuletzt gefunden am 26.12.2017 17:07:08
ISBN/EAN: 0439368294

ISBN - alternative Schreibweisen:
0-439-36829-4, 978-0-439-36829-2


< zum Archiv...
Benachbarte Bücher