There was no need to speak. Our hands, our mouths, our bodies spoke for us more eloquently than any words. I had not thought I would ever be ready for this. I had believed my body was too hurt, my heart shut too tight ever to enjoy the act of love again. But I had known tonight, as soon as I woke, that I’d been wrong. With this man, it would be all right. He knew me. He knew my past. He had seen me at my worst, filthy, abused, degraded. And still he had called me Lady.

For such a big man, Grim was the gentlest of lovers, the most considerate, waiting always for me to be ready, waiting for the little signs, accommodating my smaller frame, harnessing his own desire until he knew I was satisfied. When it was over we fell asleep in each other’s arms. The dying candles set shadows dancing across the walls.

When I woke next morning I was alone in the big bed. Half-awake, I thought, That was the best sleep I ever had. Then I became aware of certain aches in my body, good ones, and a general sense of wellbeing. And then I remembered, and thought, What have I done?

I packed up. Had breakfast. Helped Cúan wash the dishes while Cionnaola and Grim saddled the horses. Then we rode home. In the company of the Island men, Grim and I did not speak a word about what had happened between us. It seemed to me the longer we stayed silent, the harder it was going to be to find the right words when we did talk about it.

The journey was long enough to require an overnight stop, and for this we camped in a secluded spot near a small wood. Grim and I slept on opposite sides of the fire, wrapped in our own thoughts. The next day, in the late afternoon, we reached the cottage, said farewell and thank you to Cúan and Cionnaola, and watched them head off to the prince’s house with the horses. We were home.

‘Brew?’ asked Grim. ‘I’ll get some firewood in.’

‘Mm. Give me your things, I’ll put them away.’

A little later, the fire was glowing, Ripple was settled in her favourite spot and our cups were steaming on the table.

‘You all right?’ asked Grim. ‘Been a bit quiet.’

‘I didn’t mean that to happen.’ The words spilled out, ill considered. ‘What happened that night. I didn’t mean to change things between us.’

‘Mm-hm. Felt like a good change to me.’

‘It was good. Only . . . you and me, the way things are – were – I didn’t want to spoil that. To make it . . . complicated. Didn’t want to get too close, not that close anyway, because . . . well, you know.’

He waited a little, then said, ‘I don’t know. Tell me.’