Page 20 of An Acquired Taste

“Barnabas!” A woman rushes down the staircase only to come to an abrupt stop and go red in the face as she notices me on the threshold. I blink at her and then down at the large dalmatian staring up at me with his teeth bared, his whiplike tail wagging a mile a minute behind him. I’m not quite sure what to make of the mixed messages, so I stand frozen with my hands out.

“He’s friendly, I promise,” the woman calls. “He’s just smiling. It’s, er, a dalmatian thing.”

I blink and then smile back at him. “Barnabas, hm? What a gentlemanly name.” I crouch, offer him a hand to sniff, and then scratch him behind the ears. He pants happily, pink tongue lolling out.

The woman flashes me an apologetic smile as she approaches. The blush when she first saw me already made it obvious she’s human, and I glean new details as she approaches. She has fair hair in a bob and a round face, but once she’s closer I see faint lines around her eyes that indicate she’s older than I would’ve guessed from a distance. She’s likely somewhere in her thirties or forties. “I’m so sorry. He’s excitable, and we rarely get company, so…”

“I imagine I’ll be much the same after living here for a few months,” I joke. Barnabas flops onto the floorboards and offers his belly, and I obligingly scratch it. One of his feet starts thumping as I find a good spot. “What a good boy!”

“Ah.” The woman stops a few feet away from me. She looks me up and down—not in a mean way, but she does look puzzled. “You must be the new valentine, then?”

Right. She probably expected me to show up looking beautiful and fancy, but instead I’m dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with my wild curls tied in a messy bun. It seemed ridiculous to dress up in one of my nice new outfits for a car ride.

“That’s me.” As much as I’d like to continue rubbing Barnabas’s belly for the rest of my life, I realize I’m being impolite and straighten, shaking off dog hair before offering my hand. “Amelia Burton. Nice to meet you.”

“Ellen Anders,” she says, shaking my hand and dipping her chin.

“Do you live here, Ellen?” I can’t deny that it brings me some hope. The place seems so huge and cold and strange, it would be nice to have some friendly,humancompany, especially after the icy impression I got of Sebastian.

“I live in town nearby. But I’m here every weekday, keeping the place tidy.”

“There’s a town?” I perk up; the place seems so remote.

“Yes. Anville. Though my use ofnearbymay have been misleading. It’s about an hour away by car.”

“At least we’re notfullyremoved from civilization,” I say.

“Speaking of which,” Vincent says, clearing his throat as he steps in behind me with my bag. “I should be making my way there to pick up groceries. Bridget will have my head if she doesn’t have fresh veggies in time for dinner.” He turns to me, sets the suitcase down, and takes his hat off to give me a small, formal bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and to welcome you to the estate.”

“Thanks so much,” I say, though I feel awkward, unsure if I’m supposed to bow or curtsy or whatever back. Should I give a tip, or is that insulting? Before I can break through my indecision paralysis, he’s already shutting the door behind him. It’s just me, Ellen, and Barnabas standing in the huge and unfamiliar house.

“Well, Barnabas and Vince both beat me to it, but allow me to welcome you as well,” Ellen says, dipping in a small, elegant curtsy. I guess that’s how things are done in a vampire’s employ,so I curtsy back. “Let me show you to your room, and then I’d be happy to give you a tour of the rest of the house.”

“Oh.” I hesitate, surprised that Sebastian isn’t here to greet me or show me around. But—duh,the sun is still up. He must be asleep. “That’d be nice, thank you.”

I insist on carrying my own bag and follow Ellen up a winding staircase to the second floor of the house. The wooden steps creak beneath my feet but shine with polish; the portraits on the walls look ancient but don’t have a speck of dust. Altogether, this place feels old but well maintained. Loved, even. As I watch one of Ellen’s slender hands trail along the staircase and as she leads me through the maze of halls with a familiar ease, I suspect she is at least partially responsible for that.

I linger behind her, my eyes wandering from portrait to portrait. The stern faces and dark, dark eyes are all too reminiscent of Sebastian, and I suspect these must be his forebears, previous owners of the estate. But there’s no time to ask, because Ellen is already carrying on ahead. I barely manage to catch up before she stops in front of one huge wooden door.

“This will be your room,” she says.

I step inside, so shocked that I gape without self-consciousness. The room is huge and lavishly decorated. There’s a gigantic canopy bed with lush silk sheets the color of fresh snow. Mahogany rungs shaped like twisting tree branches lead up to billowing crimson curtains stretched overhead. On the nightstand beside it, a single red rose sits in a porcelain vase. I walk over to smell it, smiling to myself at the gesture. Sebastian may seem cold, but perhaps there is a romantic side to him.

Across from the bed sits a delicate, old-fashioned vanity table. Atop it sits an ornate mirror, its metal frame carved in the shape of roses. The armoire is so huge, I’m not sure how I could possibly fill it,andthere’s a walk-in closet and a personal bathroom. But I don’t peek into either of those yet because myattention is caught by the huge windows that line one wall. The view outside is far more beautiful than anything even this decadent room could hold.

The grounds are nothing like the manicured garden of the estate that hosted the Valentine’s Ball. These are more wild, more natural, and far more captivating. All rolling green hills lined with redwood forests. Even under the sunlight, the trees are dark and impenetrable from here, but rather than feeling intimidated by them, I feel a tug somewhere deep in my stomach, a pull to explore them.

“I hope everything is to your liking?” Ellen asks, and I tear my attention from the windows and turn back to her.

I’m smiling so widely, my face hurts. “It’s amazing,” I say. “This is amazing.”

“Lord Sebastian is very generous,” she says. “Would you like a tour now, or a rest first?”

As soon as she asks, I realize how tired I am. I’m not used to being awake during the day anymore. All of the excitement of my arrival gave me a burst of adrenaline, but now that it’s fading, I’m realizing that my nap in the car somehow only left me sore and tired. That big canopy bed looksveryinviting.

“I wouldn’t mind some rest, actually,” I say. “And maybe a bath.” I feel sticky with stale travel sweat, and I don’t want to encounter Sebastian before washing it off. Plus, as eager as I am to see more of this beautiful house and those incredible grounds, I have time. This is myhomefor the next six months, as amazing as that is.

“Of course.” Ellen curtsies again. “Sleep well, Amelia.”

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