The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(133)

"Now you have me at your mercy," he whispered.

He propped himself up on one elbow and leant across her to blow out the candle. To her credit she did not shrink back, nor take her hand away. Oh please God don't let her take her hand away. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could make out her pale shape beside him. Smooth skin and strong hands. Oh yes.

"Is this what Gabriel does for Ned?" she asked after a few moments.

Mal nearly choked. "What?"

"Well, you know, since they can't…"

"Why are we even talking about them?"

"Sorry, I–"

He kissed her again. "It's all right. Just, keep doing that. Aah… gently."

He stroked the curve of her arse then slid his hand over her thigh and between her legs. She whimpered, this time more in pleasure than fear. Sweet Jesu! He took hold of her wrist.

"Enough for now, or God knows I'll spill my seed."

He drew a deep breath, then another. When he felt in command of himself again, he set to kissing and caressing her, letting her get used to this new intimacy. She trembled at his touch, but now out of desire, her breath coming as ragged as his own. He gently pushed her onto her back and climbed on top of her, pushing her knees apart with his own. There.

When she did not cry out, he paused.

"I thought you were a virgin."

"So I am, I swear." A pause. "You believe me, don't you my love?"

"I want to."

"I swear I was a pure maid, untouched by any man, until tonight. I swear it to be true, on my – on my mother's soul. May God keep her…"

It was the catch in her voice that convinced him. He knew she would not make such a vow lightly.

"I believe you," he murmured in her ear. "My own sweet Jacomina."

He thrust again, as gently as he could, though it cost him nearly all his self-control.

"I have been running around in breeches," she went on, "since I was a girl of twelve, and have ridden astride many times this past year. No wonder it is thought unseemly, if it damages a woman so–"

"Mistress Catlyn?"

"Yes?"

"Be a good wife and let your husband get on with the duties of the marriage bed. Please?"

"Yes, sir."

There were no more words between them, nor were any needed. Two souls, one flesh; it was all the magic he needed.

CHAPTER XXXVI

Mal picked up his cloak but did not put it on. They would need something to conceal the babe from curious eyes, but it was a warm day and he did not want to attract any more attention than necessary.

"Ready?" he asked Sandy.

"Of course." His brother's eyes gleamed with barely suppressed delight.

"And you're certain this boy-child is the one?"

"As certain as I have ever been. Kiiren's soul is reborn in him, it shines like a beacon in the night."

Mal turned to leave the attic, only to find his wife standing in the doorway, arms folded. In her severe linen coif and apron, she still looked like a stranger to him, and he realised he missed the boy he had known so long.

"You're not just going to steal the babe from its parents, are you?" she said, looking from one to the other.

"Well…"

"How could you think of such a thing? Those poor people…" She shook her head. "And what if you get caught? What help will you be to Kiiren then?"

"What do you suggest?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you could wait a little longer…"

"We cannot," Sandy said. "What if something happened to him? Gabriel has told me how infants that are sickly or seem… uncanny are suspected of being fairy changelings, and may be treated cruelly, even killed."

"I understand that. But–" She bit her lip. "Isn't there something Sandy can do? Like… like when he made Zancani and the others think they had performed for the skraylings. Make them forget the child's existence?"

Mal looked at his brother. Sandy shrugged.

"The father, perhaps; the mother, too, if I have time to work on her. But then there are the other family members, the neighbours… I cannot alter the memories of a whole community in one night."

"We'll think of something," Mal said firmly. "I won't just steal the child from under their noses and run away."

"Very well. But be careful, do you hear me?"

Mal crossed the room and bent to kiss her brow. "I promise. We will be back before dark, and in the morning we will hire a nursemaid to come back to England with us."

They took Berowne's gondola, though of course they did not inform the ambassador of their purpose. The gondolier set them ashore in Dorsoduro a couple of streets away from their destination, and was told to wait for their return. Mal led the way through the quiet streets. It was an hour after dinner, and the city drowsed in the summer heat, the heavy perfume of roses and lilac vying with the stink of the canals.

"Who are these people?" he asked Sandy. "You mentioned only that they were of the poorer sort, and live close to where Kiiren died."

"The father is a dockhand on the Zattere, the great quay where the city's timber is unloaded. The mother is a waterseller, when she is not laden down with an infant. It is only by the greatest luck and fortitude that she carried my amayi to term."