Page 115 of Malady

“Then I believe we have both been spared a regrettable purchase.”

I draw a chair around to her side of the table and settle beside her, which earns me a suspicious glance as I reach up and take her chin gently between my fingers.

She groans. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Again?”

“Indulge me.”

“I indulged you this morning, and yesterday evening, and twice the day before that. Unless you’re expecting my nose to fall off, I really don’t see what there is left to inspect.”

Nevertheless, she allows me to turn her face towards the candle, rolling her eyes as I brush my thumb beneath one of them and study the pale skin there. Her colour is good, her eyes are clear, and there is nothing to suggest that her body has taken poorly to the changes I made to it.

She gives an enormous sigh but allows me to finish, even keeping still while I brush a loose strand of hair away from her cheek. Mere weeks ago, I feared I might never hear her complain again, and now here she is, grumbling about my attentions as though I have been inconveniencing her for the better part of three centuries. I find myself smiling at the thought, and before she can enquire what I am looking so pleased about, I lean forward and press a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She promptly rubs it with the back of her hand, though she cannot quite suppress a smile of her own, and when I move to draw away, she catches my wrist and pulls me back towards her.

“If you’re going to fuss over every inch of me, I might as well return the favour,” she murmurs. “Look at the state of your face. That damned mask has been rubbing you raw again.”

“I assure you, it looks worse than it feels.”

“That’s what you said yesterday, and yet here you are with half your chin rubbed off.” She turns my face towards the candle, examining the sore patches along my jaw with a frown. “Honestly, Iscairn, for a man who spends so much time fussing over my health, you’re remarkably careless with your own. I’ll make you something for it tomorrow, but in the meantime, try not to wear the damned thing unless you have to.”

“I shall endeavour to be more considerate of my face.”

“See that you do.”

She releases my chin, though I catch her hand before she can withdraw it and press a kiss against her knuckles. Her fingers curl around mine, and when I lean closer, she meets me halfway, granting me a rather lovely kiss that lasts until she remembers there is a perfectly good pair of gloves sitting neglected on the table.

“Right,” she murmurs, drawing back. “Let me see these properly.”

She works her fingers into the soft leather and turns her hand this way and that beneath the candlelight. The fit is excellent, as I had hoped, and she pulls on the second without further complaint about the expense.

“Oh, these are lovely,” she admits, rubbing her palms together. “Christ, they’re soft. Where did you find them?”

“A leatherworker near the Shambles. He assured me they were the finest pair in his possession, though I suspect he would have said much the same about anything I showed an interest in purchasing.”

“Well, for once, I think a merchant might have been telling the truth.” She stretches her fingers, admiring the neat stitching along the knuckles. “Thank you. Really. You needn’t have gone to the trouble, but I’m very glad you did.”

The pleasure of hearing that is rather greater than I anticipated.

I leave her to admire them while I retrieve my satchel from beside the chair and begin sorting through the remaining purchases. There are several packets of dried herbs, a little pot of salve, and a fresh supply of needles that I acquired from a rather disagreeable fellow who appeared convinced I intended to use them for something unsavoury. Beneath those, wrapped securely in linen, is a small collection of teeth obtained from a barber-surgeon near the Minster.

I have scarcely begun examining the contents when she looks over.

“So,” she says, pulling the second glove snug around her wrist. “How are your dental studies coming along?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

She gives a long, suffering groan.

“Oh, come on, Iscairn. We’re surely past all this by now.” She abandons her inspection of the gloves and turns towards me in her chair. “A fair bit has happened between us. I think I can manage whatever dreadful explanation you have for the teeth.”

I fold the linen over my latest acquisitions. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, I’m certain. You’ve been collecting the bloody things since the day we met, and every time I ask what they’re for, you start telling me about some physician or another and his fascinating work on the human jaw.” She gestures towards the satchel. “So I’d quite like to know why you’re actually hoarding teeth, if you don’t mind.”

I lean back against the edge of the table. “They are for trading.”

“Trading?” She looks at the little collection of molars. “With whom, exactly?”