CHAPTER SEVEN
I had just finished washing up when there came a rap on the door. “Mr. Tegan? Miss?” The voice was that of Boyle.
“Come in,” Tegan called from a seat at a small table situated near the crackling hearth, courtesy of his magic.
The door opened and Boyle stepped inside with a tray full of sandwiches. He set the platter on the table in front of Tegan who gazed admiringly at the selection of neatly cut sandwiches. “You’ve outdone yourself here, Boyle.” He plucked one from the tray and took a bite. “And it tastes even better than I remember.”
Boyle smiled and inclined his head. “You’re very welcome, sir.” He looked in my direction. “Would the young miss desire some food?”
“Would I,” I returned as I dried off my arms and hurried over.
Tegan’s eyes flitted between us.
