Kristina W

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“Oh.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Well, it’s got a fine, light nose.” He raised his eyebrows, eyes still closed. “And a nice bouquet, to be sure…lily o’ the valley, burnt sugar, something a wee bit bitter, maybe…” He frowned, concentrating, then opened his eyes and looked at me. “Bee dung?” I made a grab for the bread, but he snatched it away, stuffed it in his mouth, closed his eyes again, and assumed an expression of rapture as he chewed. “See if I ever give you any more sourwood honey!” I said. “I’ve been saving that!” He swallowed, blinked, and licked his lips thoughtfully. ...more
Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone (Outlander, #9)
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