Bianca had been fidgeting restlessly on the couch, moving to the window, to stare out at the black night unseeingly.

It was snowing. A light snow, with a prediction of more to follow as the weather forecaster had declared helpfully. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she stood, waiting for O’Grady.

St Just, who was doing his best to stay awake, studied the profile of their Pet, his heart aching for her. 

He would never tire of looking at her.

St Just’s tawny ...