Marcello laughed. "You're old enough that you wouldn't have lessons at home," he pointed out, and kissed her again. "Can you show me how to make candles and soap? And...paint books? We paint books here?"

She nodded, still a little drowsy. "Mm. All the books have lovely paintings in them but they fleck away until there's nothing left. And of course you can only paint one page at a time, then leave it to dry, so it takes a bit of doing. We've been restoring these, on and off, for years now. And dipping candles is actually fun. Soap-making is a bit stinky at first, but then they make all the bathing-soap for the next year and you can mix your own scents."

Marcello grinned. "Is it as stinky as I am?" he asked teasingly. "Can I make soap that smells like your hair?"

She nudged him with her foot. "You're not stinky. Well, you are now but that's only because we've been fucking every chance we get for the past two days." Reluctantly she started to sit up, one hand going immediately to her head to determine how much remained of her braid, and if she needed to touch it up before presenting herself in public. "And you can teach me how to cook," she finished, "although I suspect we are going to need another two years of winter for that . . . "

"We'll get you cooking one or two simple things well," Marcello answered reassuringly, and sat up to watch her. "You look lovely," he said. "Just as you are. No one is going to notice your hair, and if they do, it's not as if they don't know we're newlyweds."

"There's people being indulgent of newlyweds and then there's common decency." She leaned over to kiss him, and to run her fingers through his hair. "You can get away with rolling out of bed," she teased. "You always look dark and dangerous and slightly rumpled."

"Well, common decency is why we shut the doors and aren't going to go downstairs naked," Marcello replied cheerily. He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Dangerous?" he asked. "I look dangerous?"

"It's the whiskers. You look as if you're standing half in shadow." She ran her thumb down the side of his face. "We'll get you a black hooded cloak and tall black boots, so you can look the part."

He caught her hand and kissed her thumb. "I don't want to be a villain," he answered. "Everyone will think I'm wicked, and I want them to like me. I have a hard time enough with people here as it is."

Niabheara let her hands fall into her lap. "Oh, love," she said, fondly. "People will like you. We just have to put you out to be liked, is all. You are going to be the talk of Avalon as soon as everyone gets home to gossip about you."