The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist
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‘She didn’t!’ exclaimed Nicky, half laughing, half groaning.
‘She did! Then …’
‘What?’
‘Then she asked me what it was like!’
‘She didn’t!’
‘Will you stop saying that. She did.’
‘So what did you say?’
‘I told her what it was like.’
‘And?’
‘She laughed at me! Then she said, ‘When you know what you’re talking about, Squire, come let me know. I’m curious.’ Then she went back to kissing me, and moving around against me so I thought I was going to burst! Then Abigail came running over and said Marcus was coming, and they hurried off.’
‘Amazing,’ observed Nicholas, his anger and frustration vanishing before his astonishment at his unusual cousin Margaret.
‘She’s that,’ Harry said.
‘You still think you’re in love?’ Nicholas asked jokingly.
‘My stomach hurts worse than ever, but …’
‘What?’
‘Your cousin Margaret is really scary.’
Nicholas laughed and bade Harry good night. As he returned to his own quarters, he lapsed into a memory of soft lips, warm perfume, and the most incredible eyes he had ever beheld. His body warmed at the memory. And his stomach hurt like mad.
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