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by Barbara Cartland
Every day since she had fled to the farm, Romara had yearned for Lord Ravenscar, and had cried many bitter tears over him at night into her pillow. How, she asked herself, could she have been so foolish, so stupid, as to fall in love with a man who could only feel for her rage and disgust? Yet when she closed her eyes, she could see his strong, noble face; his beautiful eyes looking searchingly into hers. "It was... inevitable that I should... love him," Romara whispered to herself.
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