“Yes, you did.”
“Just tell me.” The words exploded out of her, and warmth flooded her cheeks. They stared at each other in tense silence before breaking out in laughter. “Please,” she wheezed.
“I can’t give away all my secrets.”
Gripping his arm, she forced him to look her in the eye. “Just six.”
“One.”
“Five.”
His eyes narrowed. “Four.”
She nodded, sticking out her hand. “Deal.”
He threaded his fingers through hers, and instead of shaking her hand, he pulled her into his lap. “You challenge me. I’ve never met anyone who constantly tested everything I thought I knew.”
She buried her face in his chest, unable to look him in the eye as he spoke. She’d always had a shy streak that hadn’t yet reared its head in the fae world.
“Keep pushing your buttons,” she whispered. “Got it.”
He shook his head like he’d started doing when he didn’t understand her human phrases. “I love your laugh. It’s like the sun breaking through in the middle of an Iskalt ice storm. The world is so cold until I hear that sound.”
“That’s three,” she breathed, unable to form any other response as her heart stuttered in her chest.
He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “When I’m with you, I feel like I can be good too.”
“You are good, Griff.” She reached up and gripped his chin, tilting it down so he met her eyes. “All I see in you is good.”
His eyes swirled with some unspoken emotion she couldn’t decipher. Indecision, maybe? Confusion? Whatever it was lived at the core of who Griff was.
She almost forgot about the last thing he promised her until he spoke again. “And… you’re fearless, Brea Robinson.”
“No, I’m not.”
He smiled down at her. “I took you from the human world, and now you’re in the center of a fae court—and without your precious coffee. I keep waiting for everything to overwhelm you, but you sit here joking and laughing. If that’s not fearlessness, I don’t know what is.”
“Griff, this girl you see… it’s not me. I’m not all these things. One day, you’re going to wake up and realize you only saw what you wanted to see.”
“Impossible.” He leaned her back on the bed, holding himself over her.
“If there’s one thing falling into a world of fantasy and magic has taught me, it’s that nothing is impossible.”
The Brea Robinson in his mind didn’t exist, yet when he kissed her, she let him. When he brought her closer, she held on tightly. He’d see through his own visions of her soon enough, and then all he’d find would be cracks in a ragged soul.
Griff O’Shea was too perfect, too good for the likes of her. That was how she knew the fantasy they lived in would end. She just had to make sure to get out of it intact.
Chapter Twelve
Brea managed to sneak back into her room without notice well before anyone else had arisen after such a late night of festivities.
“Good, you’re up early.” Neeve’s shoulders relaxed when she stepped into the room.
“And that’s a source of relief for you?” Brea liked to tease her maid. It loosened her up so she acted like a normal person.
“Normally, you’re like trying to wake the dead, and then you’re an ill-tempered child until I get some tea in you.”
“If you could just send someone out for coffee, we wouldn’t have this problem.” Brea would give anything for a decent caffeine boost.
“If you could tell me what coffee looks like, it would be much easier to find it.” Neeve bustled about the room readying Brea’s clothes for the day.
“It’s heaven in a cup.” Brea threw her head back against her pillow and stretched.
“That still doesn’t tell me what it looks or tastes like.” Neeve set a stack of fabric at the foot of Brea’s bed.
“It’s dark like coffee, it tastes like coffee, and it smells like coffee.” Brea groaned as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “What’s this?” She eyed the soft looking fabric Neeve brought with her.
“A few Beltaine gifts for you. I don’t know what yoga pants and t-shirts are, but you seem to prefer men’s clothing and soft things so I had these made for you.”
Brea snatched the pile of fuzzy woolen clothes and squealed in delight. The pants were very yoga-like leggings, and the shirt was a long tunic in a dark blue fabric. A belt, a pair of sturdy trousers, and a jacket completed the ensemble. There was even a descent attempt at duplicating the sports bra she’d worn when she arrived at the cottage with Griff. “This is perfect, Neeve, thank you!” She gave the tiny woman a hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything.”
“And you shouldn’t.” She gently shoved Brea back down on the bed. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Proper-schmoper.”
“You say the silliest things.” Neeve shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“At least I seem to be entertaining everyone. So what’s on my agenda today?”
“Brunch with the queen.”
“Is she mad?” Brea winced. She didn’t mention she’d just eaten in Griff’s room.
“Mad? Why on earth would she be upset with you?”
“For taking a dive with a delegate in the fountain?”
Neeve stood with her back turned, brushing imaginary wrinkles from Brea’s dress for the day. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter.
“It’s okay, you can laugh it up.” Brea rolled her eyes. “It was pretty epic.”
“Only you could manage to fall into a fountain at the queen’s Beltaine festival.” Neeve’s laughter was infectious.
Brea shrugged. “Like I said, at least I’m entertaining.”
“Better get ready, Brea. The queen will expect you soon.” Neeve offered her a stack of fresh undergarments and shooed her behind the screen in the corner of the room. Brea had insisted she could at least put her own undergarments on without assistance. It was a compromise Neeve finally agreed with.
“Is this a fancy brunch with all the delegates?”
“Just you and the queen.”
Brea breathed a sigh of relief. She loved her aunt and looked forward to the times they spent together. It was when other people were involved that she tended to stress out.
“Good morning, dear.” The queen was all smiles today. Not a hint of a hangover or lack of sleep marred her beautiful face. She’d never seen her aunt not dressed like the fae Marie Antionette. Regan really liked to wear pink.
“Good morning, Aunt Regan.” Brea bobbed a quick curtsy before she took her seat opposite the queen. “You’re looking lovely this morning.”
“Too much wine last night, darling. Far too much wine.” Her laughter echoed across the terrace where they normally had their afternoon tea.
“Tell me about it.” Brea winced.
“I just did.” The queen blinked in confusion.
“Oh, that just means I’m commiserating with you.” Brea laughed. “Way too much wine. But last night was wonderful.”