Resenting the Hero by Moira J. Moore Page A

admiration tinged with amusement. “I hear you have a lot of friends, Karish.”
    He cocked his head to one side. “I like people,” he said.
    â€œI bet you do.” McKenna retrieved her hand, her expression one of tolerance. “All the bedrooms are upstairs. I’m afraid you’ve been stuck in the smallest, number thirteen and seven. We’ve been using them for storage. But we did know a Pair was coming eventually, so they’ve been emptied and furnished. Ben will take up your bags, and I’ll start some tea for you.”
    â€œThank you,” I said, and she nodded and strolled away.
    An older man appeared from a side door, holding out his hands for our bags. “Claim a room before we’ve seen them,” Karish said as we followed Ben up the stairs.
    I shrugged. “Thirteen.” I was sure whatever they provided us would be adequate.
    From McKenna’s description, I’d been expecting the room to be a closet. It was more of a suite. A sitting room with a small collection of chairs and settees, a bedroom with a large quilted bed and two dressers, and an antechamber with a huge, deep bathtub. I looked at the bathtub longingly but felt McKenna had as good as ordered me to go back downstairs immediately.
    I took the stairs down and found myself a little lost. I was back in the foyer where we had entered, and followed the corridor past a larger version of the sitting area I had in my suite, a large dining room, and then into the kitchen. I realized I couldn’t remember ever seeing a kitchen before. I’d never entered the one at school. There was a long wooden table, with a few high stools scattered about, and rows of cupboards, and a multitude of implements of which I didn’t know the names or uses.
    â€œFirst post, eh?” McKenna asked. She was pulling mugs from one of the cupboards.
    â€œIt’s that obvious?”
    â€œAye. That look of panic at the sight of a kitchen.” She grinned at me. “Feel lucky you weren’t sent to one of the other posts, where you’re stuck in your own place with nary a lesson in a kitchen to tell you how the stove works. Have a seat.”
    â€œI was told we could rely on public fare,” I said, hiking myself up onto a stool.
    â€œYou can, but you get tired of it. And taverns aren’t always open when you’re wanting food.”
    â€œAnd there are no staff here for that sort of thing?”
    â€œJust Ben. He cooks well enough. But I’m not comfortable asking him to fix something for me whenever I’ve got the whim. Besides, it’s good for you to learn for your next post.”
    â€œShame on you, Lee, for expecting servitude.” Karish appeared to come out of nowhere, slipping onto a stool beside me.
    I chose not to answer. I didn’t expect servitude. I also didn’t expect to cook. No one had ever taught me nor encouraged me to learn, so obviously it wasn’t considered one of my responsibilities.
    We heard the outer door open, followed by masculine laughter.
    â€œAfternoon, Van Staal,” McKenna called. “The new Pair’s here.”
    Looking back, I could never be sure whether my mouth actually dropped open or not. Surely I had a little more polish than that? But the man standing in the doorway was truly divine. His hair was golden, his eyes were golden, his skin was practically golden. He was long of leg and broad of shoulder and quite thoroughly delicious.
    He was followed in by a slightly older man, a little less golden and a lot less dazzling but somehow still looking like his partner. Did that happen after a while? The dazzler thrust out a hand. “Van Staal,” he said, then gestured at his companion. “Stephan Rundle.”
    â€œMallorough,” I answered. “This is Lord Shintaro Karish.”
    â€œDunleavy is so impressed with my title,” Karish added smoothly. “I’m sure everyone would forget all about it