her way down the labyrinthine corridors to the study. The door was ajar. Alistair was already there.
He sat in the same chair as last night, though he wore a clean shirt of heavy, unbleached linen. A massive, brindle-coated Irish wolfhound lay across his boots. The beast lifted its head as Norah entered, letting out a low, vibrating rumble that sounded continue reading …
