• Home
  • Directory
  • Popular
  • Authors
  • Series
  • Home > Anne Bishop > Black Jewels > Shalador's Lady (Chapter 151)      Page
  • Shalador's Lady(Black Jewels,Book 8)(151) by Anne Bishop
  • He studied her much too long before stepping back. “In that case, if you would like to step inside, I’ll inform the Steward that you’re here.”

    “Never mind that,” she said, storming past him. “I’ll speak with him later. Right now I want to go up to my suite and clean up. Have the cook come to me so I can tell her what I want for dinner.”

    “I can’t do that.”

    She stopped short when a shield came up in front of her, effectively blocking all access to any of the rooms. She whirled to face him.

    “What’s your name?”

    “Butler will do.”

    Not an answer. Before she could give him a blast of temper, she took a good look at him.

    A Purple Dusk Prince. His caste didn’t outrank hers, but his Jewels did.

    Footsteps along another hallway. Then Gallard turned the corner and stopped.

    “Lady Kermilla! We didn’t expect you,” Gallard said.

    “What in the name of Hell is going on?” Kermilla shouted. “Why is thismale refusing to let me into my own house?”

    “Ah.” Gallard looked uncomfortable. “Come into my office. There’s a lovely fire in there. So comforting on a cold evening such as this. Butler? Could you arrange for another setting?”

    Butler tipped his head. “I’ll also inform Housekeeper that a guest room will be needed this evening.”

    “Thank you.”

    “Guest room?” Kermilla shrieked. “I want—”

    “Kermilla,please. ”

    She saw it in Gallard’s eyes. Nerves. Maybe even fear. Which was why she didn’t say anything when the shield dropped and Gallard took her arm and led her into his office.

    “There’s beef stew tonight,” Gallard said. When they reached the small dining table that was against one wall of his office, he released her arm. “Cook added a different spice, I think. Gives the stew a bit of heat.”

    “Who is that man?” Kermilla shrugged out of her coat and tossed it toward a chair.

    Gallard picked up the coat where it had fallen on the floor and carefully laid it over the chair’s back. “He’s the butler. Considering who he reports to, it is in our best interest to maintain as amiable a relationship with him as possible.”

    “Who does he report to?”

    “Lady Sabrina’s Steward.”

    “Why?”

    A tapping on the door. Butler walked in with a tray. He set another bowl of stew on the table, another cup and saucer, and a small plate of fruit and cheese.

    Kermilla sniffed. At least Therantried to set a better table. “I haven’t decided if I want that for dinner.”

    “That’s what there is,” Butler replied. “If you don’t want it, do without.”

    Too shocked to respond, she watched him leave the room.

    “Sit down, Kermilla,” Gallard said. “The food isn’t fancy, but it is good.”

    She sat—and tried to ignore his gusty sigh of relief as he settled the napkin on his lap and continued his meal.

    Gallard ate as if he feared an interruption would take him away from the food. She ate because she was hungry. She didn’tsay anything, but she made sure he knew she considered the meal an insult.

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire