She was pressed against the outside wall of the cowshed in the narrow strip of dryness, afraid to ask herself why she had invited him to journey with her. It was not like her to do so. But then again she no longer knew herself at all. It had started from the moment he kissed her, this unravelling. Perhaps even before, from when she first saw him starving at the side of the road.

She had always known who she was, sure of her place and her purpose. But now she could not say she was sure of anything. No more was her purpose to save her sister from imagined suffering. No more did she shun the idea of a man’s touch – of this man’s touch. She felt weightless, untethered from the life she knew, from all her ideas of how she should be.

Fuss was curled near the door, looking out at her from a nest of waxed cloth. The Welshman had put it there, not needing it himself when the floor was dry and knowing that Fuss must always dig at something to make a bed for himself. He had smiled as the dog pawed at it, that warm smile that made her heart glow, so she had looked away – only to steal a glimpse of his body under the cloak, the firelight filtering through the linen tunic to show his form clearly.

As well cut out her eyes as lie to herself. She wanted him, that was the truth of it. She should not. Better to want something that would not risk her body and her heart, that had no dire consequences. Better to want something that was easy, for once.

She slipped inside the shed and saw him lying in the faint glow of the tiny lamp. She had left it burning in hopes it would prevent her stumbling over him in the dark. His breath was slow and even, but she knew he did not sleep. He never slept until she returned from her vigil.

A divided mind, a divided conscience. She wanted him. She should not. It was foolish. It was tempting.

Be selfish, came the whispered answer of her heart.

The stout branches against the wall where she had spread her dress and his tunic to dry, damp hose laid atop it all, took up nearly half the dry space available. She took off her belt and set it beside the arm braces, then held her cloak close over her linen shift as she stood over him.

He looked up at her, calm and waiting, all that unending patience in his eyes. When she knelt beside him, he did not startle. When she tugged at the cloak laid over him like a blanket, his breath caught – but he stayed still.