The Merchant of Dreams (51 page)

She chuckled. “Perhaps we should stay, then.”

Ned cursed as the nib splayed, spattering ink across the page.

“It’s no good, I’ll never get used to writing left-handed.”

He threw the quill down and wiped his inky fingers on the rag as best he could. The stump of his right forearm ached, as if his missing hand had been clenched in frustration throughout the exercise. As well it might. He had known this was a stupid idea when Gabriel suggested it, but he hadn’t the heart to refuse.

“Nonsense, it’s my fault for cutting the nib poorly,” Gabriel said. “You were doing very well with it.”

He tried to kiss Ned’s brow, but Ned pushed him away and got to his feet, pacing the attic room to ease his cramped muscles. The skraylings’ potions had taken away the pain of surgery, but a week of lying drugged and immobile, and two more of being cooped up in this attic with nought to do but think, had left him both weak and restless.

“Much use I will be,” he muttered. “A one-handed scrivener who can’t even cut his own pens.”

“Perhaps you could get work in a printer’s shop,” Gabriel replied. “I hear they need men with a keen eye to set the lettering.”

Ned made a rude noise. “I’m too old for an apprenticeship. No, I shall have to rent out the house and hope that brings in enough to keep me.”

“I shall earn enough to keep us both,” Gabriel said cheerily. “Between my acting and what I can get for my plays–”

“You don’t want to be bothered with an old cripple like me.”

“No, I don’t.”

Ned turned to stare at his lover. Gabriel folded his arms and glowered. It made him look like one of the sterner archangels, barring sinners from the gates of Heaven.

“No?”

“Not if you’re going to wallow in self-pity all day, I don’t.” Gabriel sighed. “You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s more than can be said for some.”

“Ah, but Kiiren’s not really dead, is he?”

“You believe Sandy has found him, reborn as a Venetian child?”

Ned shrugged. “I leave all that uncanny business to him and Mal.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside, then came a knock at the door.

“Come in,” they both cried out together.

Hendricks – or Mina, as they were now supposed to call her – came in, carrying a large wooden box. Ned still wasn’t used to seeing her in women’s clothes and kept expecting her to revert to her old ways, but seemingly Mal had tamed her after all.

“What’s that?” Gabriel asked as she set the box down on one of the empty beds.

“A gift for Master Faulkner,” she said with a grin. “Something for him to wear to the wedding.”

The two men exchanged glances.

“Surely it’s Gabe you should be buying the fine apparel for,” Ned said at last. “No one wants to look at me.”

“Oh, I think they will.” She clicked open the two latches, then stepped to one side. “Go on, then. Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Very well, since you are so desperate to tell me.” He walked over to the bed, lifted the lid, and whistled.

“What is it?” Gabriel peered over his shoulder. “Oh, sweet Jesu!”

It was an arm. Or rather, the lower half of an arm, with a hand attached. Made of brass and steel, all cunningly worked like fine armour.

“Well, what do you think?”

Ned shook his head in wonder. “Where did you get such a thing?”

“I designed it,” she said. “Well, I borrowed some ideas from a book I read at Master Quirin the clockmaker’s, and then Raleigh commissioned it from one of the best armorers in Venice.”

She lifted it out of the box to demonstrate.

“See, you strap this end onto… your arm, and then with your other hand you can slide this lever–” she pointed to a protuberance on the inside of the prosthesis’ forearm “–and the fingers close, thus.”

The fingers did indeed fold into the palm with a clank.

“Ingenious,” Gabriel said softly.

“Then slide it back and the hand opens again. It uses lodestones.” She pointed out the cobbled appearance of the palm. “The armourer embedded the leftover beads from Sandy’s old spirit-guard. It’s not like he needs them any more, now he has his necklace back.”

“Will it protect me from guisers?” Ned asked.

She laughed. “I don’t think so. But you can always hit them with it and find out.”

“It’s… too princely a gift.” He ran a finger over the smooth, cold metal. For an instant he felt an answering touch on his missing hand. Skrayling magic, or his imagination? “Surely it must have cost a fortune. I will never pay off such a debt.”

“No need. I sold the drawings to Quirin for his collection, and Raleigh was so pleased with it that he’s commissioned a life-sized automaton to give to the Queen.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel said, embracing her, and for once Ned felt no jealousy. Hendricks was just a girl, after all.

Getting married was all very well in theory, but there was the small issue that neither Coby nor Mal was a member of any parish in Venice. Nor did she wish to convert to Catholicism, despite Mal’s assurance that being of the Old Faith was not in itself against the law in England. She had been raised a Lutheran, and she would not put aside her faith for any man, even a husband.

In the end it was agreed that they would follow English common law and make their vows before witnesses, then seek a church blessing once they were back in England. With an ambassador and a member of Parliament to vouch for them, no one could question the validity of the arrangement.

They assembled in the ambassador’s tiny garden under the pomegranate tree. Coby wore a plain respectable gown and Mal his best doublet and hose. Berowne had put on courtly garb of silk brocade and velvet, and Gabriel and Ned had embellished their everyday outfits with new cloaks and plumed hats. Coby noted with satisfaction that Ned was wearing his false hand, though it was hardly noticeable with the sleeve of his doublet pulled down. She made a note to herself to suggest to Mal that they buy him a pair of gloves for Christmas.

“Is Raleigh not joining us?” Mal asked, looking around.

“He said he had an errand to run, and would be back forthwith,” Berowne replied.

“Perhaps we ought to wait for him,” Coby said reluctantly. She had no particular desire for Raleigh to be at her wedding, even if he did make an impeccable witness.

“He may be gone all day,” Mal said. “Let us get on with it.”

“Ah, the anxious bridegroom,” Berowne said with a chuckle. “Afraid you’ll change your mind if we don’t get it over with?”

“Not at all,” Mal said, and smiled down at Coby.

“Well, then, you have your witnesses. Make your vows.”

Mal cleared his throat, then took Coby’s hands in his. “Jacomina Hendricksdochter, do you marry me?”

“Yes.” Her voice came out as a nervous squeak. She coughed. “Yes, I do.”

“And I, Maliverny Catlyn, do marry thee.”

“And I, Sir Geoffrey Berowne, bear witness to this contract, according to the ancient laws of England.”

“And I, Gabriel Parrish.”

“And I, Edmund Faulkner.”

Mal shook hands with each of the men in turn, and they each kissed Coby on the mouth, Gabriel with a whispered “God bless you both” and Ned with another of his insufferable grins.

“Is that it?” Coby asked.

“One last thing.” Raleigh appeared in the doorway. “Can’t have a wedding without a ring, eh, Catlyn?”

He held out a small velvet pouch, and Mal took it from him. Mal’s eyes widened as he loosened the strings and shook out the contents into his palm.

“You had it made smaller,” he said, holding up the signet ring. “How did you even get hold of it?”

Raleigh nodded towards Ned, who looked sheepish.

“You stole it?”

“Borrowed,” Ned replied. “It was Raleigh’s idea.”

“Since the mistress of the house seems so fond of wearing breeches,” Raleigh said, “I thought she might as well be entrusted with the family seal also.”

“I see.”

“Well then, put it on her, man. I didn’t spend half the morning running around Venice for naught.”

Coby held out her hand, and Mal slipped the heavy gold ring onto her finger. She gazed down at it wonderingly.

“This is too fine a gift, sir…”

“Nonsense. You are the mistress of my household now, as well as of my heart.” He kissed her. “And perhaps one day soon, the mistress of Rushdale Hall.”

Sir Geoffrey insisted that they use his guest bedchamber for their wedding night, and sent Raleigh up to the attic. To Mal’s surprise the captain did so with good grace, shaking Mal by the hand and congratulating him on making an honest woman out of her at last. Mal was not so sure; the new Coby was a mystery to him, an old friend turned stranger. It was none of her doing, but he felt strangely awkward now in her presence when he had never done so before. He prayed his nervousness would not entirely unman him tonight.

At last all their friends had bade them good night, and they were left alone together in the shadowy bedchamber. Coby fussed with the bed hangings, turned the counterpane back and plumped the bolsters. She seemed unable to meet his eye. He drew a deep breath. He was the master of the household, at least within this room; it was up to him to take charge of the situation.

He closed the space between them and put his arms around her waist.

“I have waited too long for this,” he murmured in her ear.

She made a small frightened sound in her throat.

“Ssh, my sweet, I would never hurt you, you know that.” He let her go, and began unbuttoning his doublet.

“Here, let me,” she murmured. “That’s one part I do know how to do.”

She undid the rest of the buttons and helped him out of the doublet, then folded it and placed it over the back of a chair. He kicked off his shoes and unfastened his slops, and soon was down to shirt and drawers.

“Now you,” he said.

She let him unlace the back of her gown, and he drew it over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her chemise was cut longer than his and fuller, only hinting at the shape of her body beneath. He drew her close and kissed her. After a moment she returned his kiss with some of her former passion, and his prick stirred in anticipation. Best to take this slowly. He took her hand and led her to the bed.

“I believe,” she said shakily, “that it is customary for the husband to… to uncover his wife’s nakedness.”

“So it is.”

She pulled on the drawstring at her throat and loosened the neck of her chemise. Gently he pushed it over her shoulders so that it slid to the floor. He smiled. She was still wearing her linen drawers, like a boy. He unfastened his own shirt and pulled it over his head, then dropped his own drawers and stepped out of them. She swallowed hard, then did the same. In the candlelight the planes of her slender body reminded him of an alabaster saint, beautiful and vulnerable. It was some moments before he remembered to breathe.

Tearing his gaze away he threw back the bed-linens and lay down, inviting her to join him. After a moment she did so, her eyes never leaving his.

“Wh… What do we do next?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Well, yes, but…” She sighed. “I have never done it myself. You must teach me.”

He smiled. “It’s not so different from fighting. Once you know the moves, it will all come as natural as breathing.”

He reached out his hand and took hers, kissing the back, then the palm, then working his way up to her shoulder. That gave him an excuse to shuffle closer, until there was barely a finger’s length between them. Or the length of another member. He took her hand and guided it down between them. Her eyes widened.

“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.