Page 20 of Must Love Scones and Secrets
At that, Bjorn shifted slightly. “Um, yes,” he said, nodding as he chewed a bite of my farmer’s pie.
It was then that I noticed the politeness of his table manners. For some reason, I had thought Rune elf halls to be rowdy places. Bjorn’s manner was very refined.
“This is very delicious, by the way. I’ve never had anything like it before.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Elder Thornberry was right. You are very talented in the kitchen.”
“See, your compass bird knew,” I replied with a laugh, then asked, “And is your family in Frostfjord?”
“They are,” he answered briefly, then turned back to the food.
“Do you have a big family?”
“Ah, yes…” he said, suddenly uneasy. He lifted his spoon to eat his soup, lowered it, lifted his tea to drink, and lowered it before taking a drink. Pausing, he stopped and reorganized his flatware.
Something about his family history was making him nervous, so I changed the subject. “So, how long have you been Master of Horse?”
“Oh, I…for…some time.”
Another sticky topic? Why? “But you enjoy working with horses…and unicorns?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, exhaling deeply with relief. “I spend as much time as I can riding. Our unicorns are unlike yours here, less elegant and more bedraggled, bulky, and rugged… A bit like Rune elves themselves.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t call you bedraggled, but bulky and rugged…”
Bjorn smiled lightly. Were his cheeks warming red? “That’s kind of you to say. After a few days on a ship, my beard certainly needs attention,” he said, stroking his facial hair.
“I don’t know,” I said, giving him a warm smile. “I like it.”
He gave me a grateful smile but looked away shyly.
“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “The unicorns… Elder Thornberry has said there is something afoot with their magic.”
He nodded. “I will visit the fields tomorrow and see what I can discover.”
“I hope the elder doesn’t have you camping,” I said with a laugh.
“No, I think there’s a cabin.”
“Hmm,” I said, then rose. “Let me bag you some scones for breakfast.”
“You’ve already done so much. Please,” he said.
“It’s no problem. I’m happy to help, Bjorn,” I said, giving him a warm—and what I hoped was inviting—smile.
But his reaction was…confusing.
A flash of some unclear emotion flickered across his face. He cleared his throat and turned back to his dish, fidgeting with the cutlery again. Seeming to realize his mistake, he righted his posture and said, “That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Rosalyn.”
Ugh, burnt ends! He has a girlfriend.
That has to be it.
There is another woman back home.
I need to find a way to ask him.
