Page 23 of The Rake and the Cake

“So soon? I thought we had everything ready for the morning,” Brook said.

“Well, yes, but the food competition is the day after tomorrow, and I need to decide if I should enter the jewelberry cakes or the new egg custard ones,” Aisling said stupidly. Then a familiar figure, tall and handsome, caught her attention, and she latched onto it gratefully. “Oh, there’s Raylen. Everyone’s here tonight.”

“Wait, you know Raylen?” Brook followed her line of sight. “And who’s that on his arm?”

“Sylar,” Aisling replied. When she looked back to Brook, there was a look of pure confusion on her face. “Raylen brought him to my stall on the first day of the market.”

“So he is getting married?”

Aisling shrugged. “They make a nice couple, though.”

Brook looked over Aisling’s shoulder again before deciding, “They do, actually. How do you know—? ”

“I’d better go. Unless you need me for anything else?” The crowd noise and crush was starting to get to Aisling. That must be it. She was used to being out of the way when the market got busy like this; the pavilion made it much harder to stand and watch from a distance. And the bodice on this dress might be a little too tight, now she thought about it. That was probably why she couldn’t catch her breath.

“No, let me walk you back.” Brook began to lead her out of the maul and toward the cool, magically lit pathways beyond. “You don’t look well.”

They abandoned their drinks on the nearest sideboard and left the party without a backwards glance. The air was lighter outside the pavilion, the sound of the party, music, and chatter they’d just left behind far pleasanter from a distance. Aisling took a few good, deep breaths in rhythm with her stride, and that soothed her.

They were halfway through the near deserted market when Brook finally said, “Did he say anything to upset you?”

Oh, only that he was last summer, and you’re now avoiding him. And then there’s the bit where you just admitted you left without saying goodbye to him, even though he was me last year.

Aisling bit her tongue and shook her head. “No. No, he was lovely.”

“I feel terrible,” Brook admitted with a sigh. “Poor Sunny. He was just—very attached, you know? He’s one of those romantic types, always talking about forever, always looking for love. Writes horrible poetry.”

“You asked me when we first met how I feel about love,” Aisling said quietly.

Brook smiled. “I did.”

“I think it’s a gift,” Aisling replied. “But I’ve never had it. Not romantic love, anyhow.”

“No, me neither,” Brook said. Then she snorted. “Well, I admit I meant sex, not love. At the time.”

Aisling could hardly believe herself as she asked, “And now?”

“Now…” Brook’s grin was wicked in the dark. “I see the appeal of both. One could certainly augment the other, if both parties were interested.”

“I think so.” Aisling’s voice came out very silly and breathless. She wondered if it sounded flirty, even though she felt quite… terrified, really. She wasn’t sure why or how, but she was shaken, and Brook’s easy smile wasn’t having its usual effect.

When they reached the wagon, Aisling disentangled their arms and said, “Good night,” without looking back.

Brook asked, “Do you need help with those laces?”

“No. Thank you.” And Aisling ducked inside and shut the flap behind her. Then sank down to the floor in a pile of silken finery and stared for a long while, trying to understand what was wrong with her of a sudden.

“You’re being silly,” Aisling told her reflection the next morning. With her everyday clothing on, her hair tied back, and her face washed, she felt far more herself. Sensible, practical, and with her intent fixed on all she hoped to accomplish this week at the market.

So, Brook went through lovers like a pagwai through berries. So, their little flirtation would last only another week before Brook would ride away with her royal family and never look back. It was better to know, surely, so Aisling didn’t get too swept away. Because for a moment there, last night, when Brook had wrapped them both in invisibility magic and swung her around that crowded pavilion unseen, Aisling had almost let herself…

She shook her head at her reflection, making a face. Silly, impractical, foolish. She had a competition to win. Last night had been an entertaining interlude, but now it was back to reality. Back to cloud cakes.

As she took the prepared elements from the ice box, lined them up, and started working, Aisling’s mind wandered. Should she avoid Brook, now? Ask her not to come around? After all, they’d both gotten what they needed from their false engagement, so there was really no need to spend more time together. But then she thought of Brook’s arms around her, the soft, woodsy-sweet scent of her hair and clothes, and the way last night’s suit had hugged those long legs.

Was there any harm in having a little fun while the market lasted? It was only another week, after all. And now that she knew better how Brook operated in love, Aisling would be prepared for it when the time came. When Brook left without saying goodbye, and life went back to how it had been. Which was lovely, because Aisling loved her life, her work, her research, her baking, her… everything.

But it had been nice to have help for a few days. And someone to sit by the river with and flirt. And the way Brook kissed…