Chapter Fourteen
Aldair could feel the storm cell building off to the northeast. Over Madrid? Possibly. From here in Albuquerque, it was difficult to tell exactly, what with the bulk of the Sandia Mountains in the way. He had found a house he liked very much, one built on its own promontory in the foothills, with architecture that would not have been out of place in ancient Toledo — tile roofs and hidden courtyards, and hanging lanterns of dark wrought iron. It was beautiful, and far more to his taste than the rustic homestead where he’d been living for the past week. Would Jillian think it beautiful if he brought her here?
The best way to know for certain was to ask her.
Since he knew his destination, he blinked himself from the house above Albuquerque directly into the living room of
