"What's wrong with the latter?" Marcello asked, with a little toss of her head. "You make it sound like you oughtn't be."

"I should hope that I'm an intelligent enough woman to think of something else to do with myself." Racial memory and seasonal hormones thought otherwise. She stood up as well, looking down at the mess of the collapsed bed. "Let's leave it. Let's let everyone assume we got carried away."

Marcello shook her head, amused, and reached for Niabheara's hands. "But we didn't," she pointed out.

"But we could have. And it is providential that we did not, because one of us would have no doubt gotten cracked on the head with that thing." She nodded toward the headboard. "And while dying whilst making love is said to be one of the better ways to go, I would rather neither of us risk it." She kissed Marcello on the cheek. "Silly girl. Boy. Love."

Marcello kissed her back, on the mouth. "Most definitely a boy," she informed Niabheara. "Even if my outward appearance says otherwise. Don't you forget," she chided sweetly.

"The trouble is that I keep remembering." She closed her eyes and gave a tiny groan.

"And what's wrong with that?" Marcello asked again, kissing her cheek and then her neck. "You are being distressingly chaste compared to all the warnings I heard about this month."

She moaned when Marcello kissed her neck. Her hands crept up to the back of her neck, pressing the other girl closer. "It's a good thing I'm not a drunk, the way you encourage my other bad habits." Her hand trailed along Marcello's spine. "Or are you my bad habit?"

"Me?" Marcello asked teasingly, slidiing her own hands over Niabheara's rump. "I'm a good habit, love." She shut her eyes, still kissing the other girl. "A very good habit, yes?"

She pawed at Marcello's back, her head falling back. "Always. I . . . are you taking this as a challenge, love?" She jerked her head back up, eyes black, and caught a fistful of Marcello's hair, forcing the other girl to look at her.