Chapter Eleven
For a long, long moment, Aldair stood in the middle of the bar at the Mine Shaft tavern, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had to do that, because otherwise he knew he would have taken to the air, would have made sure he got to the house before Jillian did, so he might confront her over her foolishness.
Then, when the angry beating of his heart had subsided somewhat, he crossed over to the table where they’d sat and lifted his wine glass so he might drain the meager remnants at the bottom. Not satisfied, he reached over for Jillian’s abandoned glass and drank the little bit of wine it still contained.
Still not enough. Well, he was in a bar, after all.
One of the bottles hidden under the counter sailed out and landed in his outstretched hand. No need for a corks
