Page 26 of The Rake and the Cake

She did care if she won, of course she did. But if she didn’t, she’d know she’d done her best.

When they announced, “Aisling’s jewelberry cloud cake!” as the best cake in the market, Brook picked her up and spun her around. Aisling laughed and hugged her tight, saying into her ear, “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you!”

Brook set her down and said, “You could, but I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

“Me too,” Aisling said sincerely.

The subsequent announcement of her Copperford pie as the winner of its category took Aisling off guard, and she leaned into Brook, head spinning, smiling so hard it hurt.

If this was all they had, these two weeks and this one moment of triumph, Aisling would be grateful. It’d never be enough—she liked Brook too much to want to give up on her now—but it would be good. And she wasn’t going to waste another second.

As they walked back toward the stall, Brook took Aisling’s hand and laced their fingers together tight. “I feel so proud,” Brook murmured. “Of you. Goddess, but I’m even proud of me.”

“Me too,” Aisling said. Her face hurt from smiling. She was vibrating with excitement, with satisfaction, but also with… something else.

“What else do we have to do tonight?” Brook wondered.

Aisling shook her head.

“We at least have to prepare the dough for tomorrow, right? The fougasse?”

Aisling shook her head again. “I did it while you were working with the customers. Between judges.”

“Sneaky! Well, then, what shall we do?”

Aisling said, “I haven’t shown you the inside of my wagon yet, have I?” Her cheeks blazed. Her heart pounded. Her legs felt shaky.

But the slow, hot smile Brook gave her made it all worth it. “No. No you have not, Aisling.”

Chapter 7: Brook

Brook turned in a slow circle, admiring the cozy interior of the wagon. “It’s bigger on the inside,” she commented offhand, trying not to show just how fast her blood was racing, her heart was beating.

“Is it?” Aisling wondered, shutting the canvas flap behind her. She flicked a glow-globe, and the place lit up; a little table and mirror, a very comfortable looking platform bed piled high with pillows, and a small pantry or wardrobe made up the bulk of the interior.

“How in Everend do you get the oven in here?” Brook wondered.

“It has its own wagon that trails behind.” Aisling reached out and touched Brook’s elbow.

Brook turned to face her. “Well, rather ingenious of—”

Before she could finish the sentence, Aisling was in her arms, face buried in her neck. Brook allowed herself to be steered backwards toward the bed, and when her heels hit the platform, she stopped and leaned down.

Aisling buried a hand in Brook’s hair, nails gently scraping at the scalp to send a shiver down her spine, and pulled her into an insistent kiss. She tasted like her cakes, like berries and honey, after all. A pit opened up in Brook’s belly as she tightened her arm around Aisling’s waist, pressing their fronts together hard.

Aisling’s lips opened, then her tongue slipped past them and curled upward. Brook angled harder to get more, to go a little deeper. Aisling’s tail curled around her thigh and squeezed. Brook shivered.

The kiss broke off in a breathless huff. Aisling muttered, “Sorry, it has a mind of its own.”

“I love the way it thinks,” Brook assured her, gaze fixed on Aisling’s pink lips. “I love the way you think.”

“No more talking.” Aisling pushed Brook backwards gently, and Brook plopped down onto the soft bed. She reached down to unstrap her boots but kept fumbling; she couldn’t take her eyes off Aisling. Quickly, efficiently, like she did everything else, Aisling unlaced her thick corset belt and slipped it off, then dropped it to the ground. She said, “There, that’s better.”

“Don’t stop there,” Brook murmured.

Aisling grinned. “Really?”

“Ash, I’ve been dying to get you naked, you must know.” Brook chuckled and flung one of her boots across the wagon impatiently.