She gathered the quilt in her fists while trying hard not to scream from sheer frustration. Once Sam fled the scene this morning as if the hounds of hell were after him, she’d had no choice but to return to the house where Mrs. Altier rushed her into the parlor. After a round of questioning in which Ava gave up nothing that had transpired between her and him, she’d stomped upstairs to her room and refused to come out, which was fine since she’d eventually fallen asleep and hadn’t awoken until late in the afternoon. Even her wolf remained quiet. Grudgingly accepting a dinner tray later in the evening but refusing Mrs. Altier’s company, Ava lit an oil lamp and turned the burning wick down so soft, shadows danced in the faint light. She struggled out of the hated period clothing and into the slightly more tolerable voluminous nightclothes. The only redeeming quality about the thin cotton garment was the dainty embroidery along the cuffs, neck, and hem as well as the soft, handmade lace.
