The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(112)

"I had it done at a fair in England," he said at last. "I saw the design in the skraylings' pattern book and took a fancy to it. Why?"

"That is an ancient sigil; I have not seen its like in centuries. And you say someone was selling these to humans as mere decoration?"

Mal feigned innocence. "I can only tell you what I know. What does it mean?"

"I don't know." It seemed to bother her. "Perhaps you remember more than you realise…"

"Perhaps so." He ran his hands down her arms, then slipped them round her waist and pulled her close. "But enough of the past…"

"Il mio tesoro," she whispered in his ear, and kissed the metal hoop where it pierced his earlobe. "Will you not take this off now? I think you are ready for a true joining."

He bent his head to kiss her shoulder, hoping that she mistook the pounding of his heart for lust. He had been afraid she would suggest this, now when it was impossible for him to allow it.

"I want to enjoy every inch of you with my waking eyes first," he said. "What's the hurry, when we have all eternity to look forward to?"

He pushed his fears to the back of his mind and let his body take over. This was a dance he knew of old, though never with so graceful a partner. Soon he forgot why he had ever been afraid of her.

They made love slowly, languorously, lingering over each caress until every nerve trembled like a lute-string at the merest touch. Her fingertips, hot as gledes, danced over his skin as he moved inside her, and the end came all too soon despite his best efforts to prolong their pleasure. He withdrew and rolled over, recalling his purpose here. Dare he stay the night? If so, should he take her captive as she slept and try to keep her hidden until tomorrow?

"Perhaps you are right," she murmured, propping herself up on one elbow behind him. "Sometimes the simple ways are the best."

She slipped a hand around his waist and down towards his navel, making his belly muscles tighten in anticipation. He sucked in a breath and pulled himself upright. Time to get out of here, before he did something stupid. Like doing that again, without the spirit-guard's protection this time. He could always come back.

"I don't suppose I'll see you tomorrow," he said, trying to sound casual. He retrieved his clothes and began dressing.

"You are leaving so soon?"

She shifted on the bed, candlelight gilding her curves. Mal turned his back and pulled on his shirt. It stuck to his clammy skin, but there was no helping it.

"I have business to attend to, and no desire to be arrested for breaking curfew." Mal looked back over his shoulder. "It was you, wasn't it, who gained us our reprieve?"

She grinned like a naughty child. "Was Surian very cross?"

"I thought as much." He pulled on his slops and boots, and picked up his doublet. "Until tomorrow, my lady."

"Until tomorrow, amayi'a. I will see you at the Doge's Palace."

"What?" He froze in the doorway.

"The grand reception at the Doge's Palace. Everyone has been invited, including your ambassador and Sir Walter Raleigh. There will be fireworks in Saint Mark's Square…"

"Yes, yes of course. I had quite forgotten."

He bowed to hide his discomfiture and made his way back downstairs. Damn it, how was he to abduct her and convey her to the skrayling ship with half the city on the quayside? This plan was going from bad to worse.

Coby took the hired gowns back to the Mercerie after supper, and spent some time at Quirin's afterwards. It was far pleasanter without Raleigh playing cock-of-the-walk, and she was able to discuss gears and movements with the clockmaker over a glass of wine. When the shop's gilded and enamelled clocks all began to strike the second hour after sunset, she remembered where she was and excused herself, running all the way back to the embassy to arrive out of breath but at least well within curfew.

She went straight up to her room, but paused at the top of the stairs when she heard whistling coming from behind the closed door. For a moment she considered going back down to the parlour, but she was in no mood for more conversation with Raleigh, so she knocked quietly. No response. She knocked again, a little louder. The whistling stopped, and footsteps approached the door. It opened to reveal Mal, stripped to the waist and rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

"Ah, Coby, about time," he said.

"Sir?"

She looked down at her feet. Though she had seen him half-dressed many times, in the wake of her recent thoughts it was particularly irksome of him to be flaunting his virility so.

"We need to talk." He opened the door wider and she made to go inside. "No, not in here. I want to talk to Sandy as well. And the others."

"Oh." Her cheeks became even hotter, if that were possible. Idiot! Presuming he was talking about you, when— "I'll… I'll just wait out here for you to finish washing, shall I?"

"I'll be out in a moment. Run down and see if Jameson has any of that Tuscan red left, will you?"

"Yes, sir." She hesitated. "What are you doing here? I thought Lord Kiiren wanted you to stay and be tended."

"He changed his mind and let me loose."

"Oh. Well, that's wonderful." She forced a smile. Changed his mind, my foot! The ambassador was up to something again, she would put a month's wages on it.