Chapter Twelve
Dead silence from upstairs. Aldair wasn’t quite sure what he had expected from Jillian, but after that one slammed door, he could hear nothing from her at all. Was she weeping, or merely sitting on her bed and contemplating all the ways she might get her revenge on him?
Although he told himself it did not truly matter one way or another, he found himself hoping that he had not made her cry.
He blinked the bottle of late-harvest pinot and its accompanying glasses into the kitchen, then did the same thing to bring himself to his room, for in that moment, he did not much feel like climbing the stairs. However, he left the door open so Patches might enter and take his favored spot at the foot of the bed.
At least, that was the reason he gave himself for not shutting the bedr
