*Scarlett*
“Do you have to make that damn clacking noise?”
Keeping my fingers on the keys, I look over at the door to my bedchamber that I have left open to indicate I’m ready for the day. Leaning negligently against the jamb, Sam appears to have been ridden hard and put away wet. Getting out of the chair at the table that supports the writing machine, I quickly cross the room, grab my brother’s arm, and drag him into the room before closing the door.
“You left me last night,” I hiss, not bothering to disguise my pique.
Sam collapses into a chair and holds his head in his hands. “Could you be a little quieter with your anger? My head is killing me.”
“Because you drank too much?”
“Because I did too much of a lot of things.”
I move closer to the chair opposite his and stand behind it,
