The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(46)

"I see."

"What about you and Hendricks?"

"I told you, I'm not–"

"–interested in young boys. I know. But Hendricks isn't a boy, is she?"

Mal stared at him. "You know about her? How?"

"Your brother told me, back in London."

"Oh." He muttered a curse under his breath. It had never occurred to him that Sandy might find out, or need warning not to tell anyone.

"You worried he might take your place?" Ned asked with a sly smile.

"No." His brother only had eyes for Kiiren, that was obvious. Or rather, Erishen did. What Sandy's feelings were on the matter, he had no idea. He swore again. Just thinking about Erishen made his head ache.

"Well, then. Forget about it." Ned shuffled a little closer. "Anyway, you never answered my question."

"About Coby? What do you expect me to say?" He sighed. "She refuses to wear women's garb, and I cannot make love to her as she is, for fear the servants would see us and gossip. I have no desire to be burned at the stake."

Ned made a dismissive noise. "Barbarians, the lot of them. You should come back to London for good."

He took Mal's unresisting hand and kissed each knuckle in turn, then made his way back across the finger joints, one by one. Mal clenched his fist, then shook Ned's hand away.

"We can't go back to the way things were."

"Come on, just for one night. You know you want to." Ned ran his fingertips up the inside of Mal's thigh, making him gasp in anticipation. "You know you want me."

Mal closed his eyes, caught between desire and guilt, but the phantom movement of the floor made him want to throw up again. He opened his eyes, and blinked. For an instant he thought the dark-haired figure leaning over him had mottled skin and golden eyes, then the illusion passed. This was just Ned, as human as ever. Wasn't it? Heart pounding, Mal slid his hand around Ned's waist and down the back of his drawers.

Ned chuckled. "That's better."

There. The rounded end of a human spine, not the stubby tail he had feared to find. But the image persisted in his mind's eye. Kiiren. He released Ned and pushed him away.

"Mal?"

Mal ignored him. He staggering over to the window and flung the shutters open, sucking in deep lungfuls of cool evening air to try and clear his head. What in God's name was happening to him? Was this some vision seen through his brother's eyes? Or were Erishen's memories of another life surfacing once more?

He recalled Sandy's words. Like being drunk. Could drink itself have the same effect? Was he Erishen right now? He didn't feel any different. He stumbled over to his knapsack, pulled out the earring and with trembling fingers fastened it in place. No, still no different.

He looked down at Ned, who had turned away, the taut muscles of his back as eloquent a statement of frustration and disappointment as any words. Mal found his eyes tracing the lines of the other man's shoulder-blades, down his spine to… No, he could not blame Erishen for his own feelings towards Ned.

He lay back down, the space between them now a chasm. For a moment he considered apologising to Ned, perhaps even trying to explain, then thought better of it. He rolled over, wincing as a piece of straw stabbed through the mattress into his hip, and prayed for the room to stop moving.

Ned leant against the windowsill, basking in the warmth of the newly risen sun. Back home it would still be cold at this hour, and summer only a distant promise. Mal's estates were somewhere north of here, he recalled, on the mainland. No wonder Mal was so tanned, and Hendricks so sunburnt.

Thoughts of Hendricks only served to remind him of last night. He didn't know who he was most annoyed with: Mal for rejecting him, or himself for making such a dog's dinner of the whole thing. He was out of practice at seduction, that was the trouble. Not that he regretted devoting his attention to Gabriel these past two years, but Gabe was home, security… routine. With Mal around, anything could happen, and usually did. Admittedly it had been rare for their lives to be in serious danger like this, but even the most trivial escapade had lent a delicious edge to their carousing.

He cursed softly. That was why Mal couldn't give Hendricks up. Surely they must have had far narrower escapes together than he and Mal ever did – and yet she denied him the celebration of life he craved. Uptight little puritan! She hadn't changed a bit. Not that he could entirely blame Mal for desiring her. He himself had been fooled into trying to kiss her once, back when he still thought her a boy – though she had responded by biting him, the venomous bitch! If God had not ordained it, surely no man of sense would choose to consort with women.

Mal stirred and rolled over.

"Who's there?" He sounded wide awake already, and in no good humour.

"It's only me." Ned held up his hands as Mal groped for his blades. "Good day to you too."

"Why's the window open?"

"You opened it last night, remember? Besides, I thought we needed some fresh air in here. Even your would-be footpads aren't going to be attacking us in broad daylight."

"Dawn is one of the best times," Mal said, sitting upright and retrieving his breeches. "Your victim is drowsy, the light dim and shadowless…"

"Another of Walsingham's lessons?"