A Hispanic woman in green pajamas took my arm and I was led to a small cubicle.
That very young woman seemed to Pierre the perfection of Oriental beauty, with her sharply outlined, arched, black eyebrows and the extraordinarily soft, bright color of her long, beautiful, expressionless face.
Yully, the third woman who would become her sister, was just as unique with a heart equal to that of any of the women.
She'd responded to him when his fangs were in her neck, and his power was in direct contact with her, but she still hadn't broken down into a mewling mess like every other woman did when first he touched them.
Notwithstanding their complete subjection, women are treated with a certain respect, and are often employed as intermediaries in the settlement of feuds; a woman may traverse a hostile district without fear of injury, and her bessa will protect the traveller or the stranger.
The widowed duchess of Kent was now a woman of thirty-four, handsome,, homely, a German at heart, and with little liking for English ways.
Something about the woman looked familiar, but it was hard to identify her from behind.
The cart was loaded high, and at the very top, beside a child's chair with its legs in the air, sat a peasant woman uttering piercing and desperate shrieks.
He'd never cared for another woman in the way his father had loved his mother.
Expecting the sheltered woman would flee at the first kiss, he brushed her lips with his.