Page 39 of The Rake and the Cake

“Let’s figure something out. Let’s find a way to keep this going. I don’t know for how long or where or how, but you’re a genius. You’ll think of something.” Brook felt a little lighter after she said it. She only wished she’d thought to say it sooner. That she had more experience with this part of love, not just the overnight bit.

“On one condition,” Aisling said quietly.

“Name it.”

“Take off those leathers and get in here with me.”

Chapter 10: Aisling

Aisling nuzzled into Brook’s neck the moment she hit the bed. They smelled of expensive herbal potions. Aisling rubbed her face against Brook’s soft, wet hair and inhaled deeply, stretching out her tail.

As usual, it had a mind of its own; the spaded tip slid down the curve of Brook’s naked calf, then wrapped around her ankle tight.

Brook chuckled silently, just a shake and a little puff of air against Aisling’s shoulder. One of Brook’s arms wrapped around Aisling’s waist, fingers tracing the ridges at the base of her tail. Faint, almost feather-light caresses that sent little sparks shooting up Aisling’s spine like magic.

“Sleep,” Brook cooed, voice low and sweet. “You must be exhausted.”

“And the bath made me feel positively boneless,” Aisling admitted.

“You’re welcome.” Her smile was audible in Brook’s voice now.

Aisling chuckled. “I was so mean to you yesterday. And you still came back.”

“I knew there was something wrong. Something I didn’t understand. But I never even thought—goddess bless me, I’m an idiot.”

“No more than I.” Aisling snorted.

Brook kissed her hair. They were quiet a moment longer, curled together in the dark between the most decadent set of sheets Aisling had ever experienced. And then Brook stirred again, pulled away just enough to look Aisling in the eye, and said, “To be clear, I plan to see you after this market. As often as possible. So think about options tonight. Talk tomorrow?”

Aisling nodded gratefully. She was so exhausted, riding the edge of her hangover and a genuine emotional crisis, that she would’ve said yes to anything just then. Even without the large, dark, beautiful eyes of a lover fixed on her. Aisling murmured. “I plan to see you too. As often as possible. If only I’d said it…”

“We’re a pair of idiots. Just in very different ways.” Brook pressed her forehead into Aisling’s.

“So are my parents,” Aisling had to admit.

“And mine,” Brook agreed. “I’ll introduce you in less fraught circumstances tomorrow. If you want.”

“I want.”

Aisling woke before the gray dawn crept into Brook’s posh room. She considered getting up and going to her stall, trying to salvage her bellows—or maybe Darra, Dad, or Mum would have something she could use.

But no. They’d be running around, busy and excited. Today was the Innovation Awards.

She sighed and rolled over. Brook’s eyes were closed, black lashes soft against her dark bronze cheeks, lips faintly puckered as if expecting a kiss. Asleep like this, she looked younger, someone’s little elfling.

As if she felt Aisling’s gaze, Brook’s eyes fluttered open. Slowly, she smiled. “Of course you’re awake.”

“Before the songbirds.”

“Speaking of, when will you sing for me, songbird?”

Aisling snorted. “Never.”

Brook smiled and scooted nearer, throwing an arm over Aisling’s hip. “Sleep well? Feeling better?”

“Decidedly less hungover, yes.” Aisling cringed at her own ridiculousness. At least the ginger elf from the Dun Steorra dance hadn’t stuck around long enough to see her make a fool of herself. If anyone else had—well, didn’t seem like she’d ever find out, which was fine by her.

Hopefully, the ginger elf’s husband had also stopped avoiding him.