[Arry]

‘Thanks . . . I think . . . I mean yes, thanks.’ Gil stammered, the red from his cheeks flaming up to his ears.

Good gravy! What was the matter with him? He felt hot and cold and quite unable to speak. And there was Rowan staring at him in a curious manner. And beyond her, the Elf . . . whose brows were raised so high they nearly met his hairline.

‘Look,’ he said, taking a deep breath and trying to stand casually. ‘We . . . I seem to have gotten off to a bad start. Let’s try again.’

Gil pulled out the chair to his right and nodded at Rowan. ‘Would you like to break your fast with me, Miss Foxburr?’ he asked gaining back a little of his composure. He managed a little grin. ‘Or if you’ve already eaten . . . then a little second breakfast perhaps?’

Emlin nodded at the little scene. He seemed to smile a bit, then waved good-bye as he headed toward the Inn door . . .