* Shard smiled at that . . . and although it was difficult to tell beneath the shadow of his blue forelock, the faintest trace of a light lavender blush was licking along his pale cheeks in silent response to her words.
. . . is this so? I must admit that I am very deeply flattered, then; I did not know that I held any such regard among the wolf clan.
* He bowed his head toward her again, still smiling.
You have committed no offense, dear lady. None at all. Rather, I apologise if I have caused you any unwarranted discomfiture in having placed my question to you.
* Shard reached out with one hand as if to indicate the rose hue that was fading from Vanilla's cheek where she had blushed, but as he did so, his slender fingers brushed a lock of her hair. The Prince blinked, startled by his slip, and seemed as if he would beg pardon . . . and then suddenly seemed to change his mind, and he allowed his fingers to complete the trek started, reaching to tuck the same lock of hair gently away behind her ear.
. . . thank you for having shared your answer . . . and your company . . . with me.
* He withdrew his hand and folded it in the small of his back again.
Mayhap, if it is to your liking, we might speak again some day . . . ?
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