Best Laid Plaids (Kilty Pleasures)
Page 29
Emotional blackmail. Unfair, plain and simple, and Joachim knew it. Bastard.
Christ, could he manage two months without Joachim? Fuck, probably not and retain any shred of sanity. He clung to scraps of it on his good days as it was. “Don’t be hasty. I haven’t said no, have I? I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
But, oh. His enchanting Englishman grinned with pleased excitement that was difficult not to fall for. And really, Ainsley did usually get his way. It would be kind to allow Joachim this trifle.
His voice softened though he wouldn’t go completely belly-up in front of everyone. “Gads, Cockburn. Trolls and gnomes? Can you imagine that they are the sorts of folklore that anyone will take seriously? I’m an academic.”
Dr. Jeppsson looked back and forth between them, nodding sagely. “You are indeed, Dr. Graham. I was thoroughly impressed with your latest book on famous fairy circles of the United Kingdom.”
“A mere pamphlet of forty pages, Dr. Jeppsson. Hardly a book. And I wrote it as a favor for a friend.” He’d argued that the topic had a hint of ridiculousness to it, but it had been mind-numbingly scholastic in the end.
Just then, Freddy ran his pointer finger down the side of the cake and sucked the frosting off his finger. “You look like a gnome, Ainsley, with that party hat on.” He grinned with pink teeth. “Only, they’re usually quite pleasant and have wheelbarrows and things, don’t they?”
If Ainsley had magical powers, Freddy would have instantly dissolved into thin air.
As it was, he merely huffed and tried to remove his little pointy cap, but the elastic band got caught and snapped at one of his ears.
Joachim put a calming hand on the base of his spine. “It would be lovely to explore a new country with you, Dr. Graham. Neither of us has been there, and we’d be able to enjoy those twenty-hour days since it will be summer, and the sun hardly sets at all.”
“Don’t forget to tell him about the ghost, Martin,” said Dr. Tompkins to the giant Swede. “Our dear Dr. Graham is working on a definitive book about spirits and I’m sure he’d like as much proof as he can find.”
“My students will be overwhelmed with awe, Dr. Graham, if you consent to take us on. The idea that you’ll be out in the field with us chasing down the old legends...well...it’s almost too perfect to believe.”
Dr. Jeppsson was entirely too handsome for words, not that Ainsley noticed things like that about men who weren’t Joachim. But the fleeting image of rapt students drinking in his wisdom as he lectured about folklore was satisfying, to say the least.
And twenty hours of continuous daylight didn’t sound like the grim and broody Scandinavia he’d heard about.
Joachim’s hand was broad and warm over his back and he leaned close to Ainsley’s ear, his soft beard tickling as he whispered too low for anyone else to hear. “Come, love.”
Ah. Words that always worked precisely the way Joachim wished them to.
He’d better be prepared to lick cake icing from Ainsley’s entire body for this rot. But still, it had been two years since he’d spoken to a ghost, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d imagined all those chats between his mother and himself before Joachim came into his life and stabilized it.
A ghost was an enticing thought. Even if it came shackled with chasing down Swedish pixies and...heavens...trolls. No, gnomes. Funny little men with stiff hats and pink cheeks like they’d gotten sunburned or were served too many drinks.
Did he have some in his garden at Rosethorne? Come to think of it, he might.
He sighed with defeat as graciously as he could muster and shook the foreign professor’s hand. “You’ll have to recommend some foundational reading to catch me up, Dr. Jeppsson,” he said. “I’ve never studied anything about whatever the magical creatures are.”
“Call me Martin, please.” Dr. Jeppsson’s voice dripped with honey and his eyes dropped to Ainsley’s mouth. “We’re going to be good friends, I have a feeling.”
Joachim made a low grumble deep in his throat. He forced a chuckle. “As good as can be in a few short weeks, you mean.” His arm inched around Ainsley’s waist.
Dr. Jeppsson raised an eyebrow. “It looks like we have much in common, gentlemen. The laws in my country are similar to the ones here, but our society is much more progressive and hardly anyone bats an eye over friendships such as yours.”
Thank fuck because Ainsley Graham was hardly the sort willing to hide who he was from anyone.
Placing both hands on Ainsley’s shoulders, Joachim asked, “Will it be convenient to let a flat for a few weeks? Two or three bedrooms, though at least one with a double.”
Seriously, Joachim might end up taking a wee on him at this rate. As if he’d be interested in any frolicking with this great big, handsome Swede. With the delectable beard. To say nothing of the breadth of his shoulders.
“Yes, of course, Dr. Cockburn. Though Dr. Graham and I will be out in the field most of the time.” He flexed his muscular Viking limbs. “I have a charming caravan, so no need for a tent. It’s small but perfectly adequate. As long as you don’t mind sharing a bed?”
“My goodness, Joachim, was that a growl?” Bernard Tompkins’s owl-sized eyes blinked at Joachim in surprise.
“Frog in my throat,” said Joachim, voice tight as a vise.
Oh, Joachim jealous was a treat, indeed. It was all Ainsley could do not to rub his hands together in glee. But he wouldn’t be cruel. Not too much. He gave a regretful smile toward his lover. “It seems as though you’ll get your wish, after all, darling. Sweden it is.”
Joachim glowered behind his beard. Spoke through clenched teeth. “Huzzah.”
“Erm, bend our ears about your ghost, won’t you, Martin?” Bernard sounded positively bewildered.
Dr. Jeppsson turned as scarlet as a phone box. “It’s an elk.”
“Pardon?” asked Joachim. “Did you say elk?”
Martin Jeppsson squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “Moose, you say in English.”
“Your ghost is a moose?” sputtered Ainsley. “I’m to include a bloody moose in my book of ghosts?”
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ISBN-13: 9781488076831
Best Laid Plaids
Copyright © 2020 by Ella Stainton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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