GettingLuckyinGalway Read Online Free PDF Page B

grass-green eyes. “He puts up with me, as
you so callously put it, because he’s been with my family for generations. Nob
helped raise me and he would never desert me for a backwoods Southerner with no
manners.”
    Her grandfather’s favorite saying popped in her head. Of
course at the time Grand Papa had been in front of the alpha explaining his
actions. “He needed killin’.”
    Would Grand Papa’s killin’ defense work as well for her as
it had for him? Somehow, considering how far outside the Southern states they
were, Calder doubted it. Instead she took a deep breath and tried the counting
thing her human anger management counselor swore worked for everyone else.
    Reaching one hundred, Calder opened her eyes to find the
tricky, mint-smelling bastard standing in front of her. How did he move so
quickly for a non-shifter?
    “Fine, Nob will stay in your unappreciated household. I
don’t know why we’re arguing about this anyway. There are so many other things
we could be fighting about.” How had her night turned into this bad farce? She
should be thrilled to meet her mate, making calls to her family and pride with
the good news. However, something besides his non-specified species kept any
hint of happiness from leaking through.
    “Nob is—”
    “Nob is here and delighted Master Roark has finally admitted
what a priceless jewel Nob is. Now, you may brush Nob’s glorious mane of hair.
Fifty strokes each side then you may proceed to massage Nob’s perfect scalp.”
The short brownie scurried across the room, wide silver-backed brush in hand
while a taunting smile stretched his unusually large mouth.
    “Since when do I groom you, Nob?” Arms crossed across an
impressive chest, Roark perfected the lord of the manor look. Complete with
mild disdain and snotty, above-the-peasants glare.
    The petite man didn’t back down as he thumped the heavy
brush against his tiny leathery palm. “You will do this or Nob will arrange all
your music selections in alphabetical and published order. Then I will have a
party and invite my family to gather in your office.”
    Roark let out a low, very canine-sounding growl before yanking
the brush out of the smaller man’s grip. “Turn around, you little conniving
manipulator.”
    “Be gentle, Roark, son of Selen. I have not hosted a
cleaning party in at least fifty years and my relatives are anxious to see you
again,” Nob threatened with a victorious smile.
    Then reality and truth slammed Calder over the head harder
than any two-by-four ever could. “Roark, son of Selen? House of…”
    Two sets of male eyes turned to her, one with confusion and
one with wary contempt. The older male spoke first. “Oh yes, Roark is from the
oldest and most noble of Fae houses. The House of Luna.”
    Jumping to her feet even as dread pooled in her stomach
Calder licked her suddenly dry lips. “You’re Fae?”
    “Not really, I mean kind of—”
    “Of course you are, Master Roark. Wasn’t I there when you
were born in the Queen’s castle with Her Majesty’s royal physician attending
your mother? There is no greater house in Fae, nor any older or more powerful.”
The diminutive Fae, because that’s what all brownies were, even if Calder
forgot the fact for a moment or ten, sounded so proud.
    “Oh shit,” she whispered, wondering what else the tricky
fate bitches had in store for her. “Of all the crappy shit to get stuck with, I
get a freakin’ fairy for a mate.” The words she meant to grumble or swallow
came out a manic shout, causing both men to take several steps back until her
words registered.
    Nob jumped up and down, his OshKoshes sliding down his thin
hips. “You’re mates? Oh how delightful!” He turned to the glowering green-eyed
man. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re mated? Oh by the grace of the Queen and
moon.” The small elf pressed a tan hand to his forehead, the perfect picture of
distress. “I let you serve my new lady leftover slop. The shame,