“I will leave you now, but first I would ask if you know the woman I seek. She is...” Nan faltered for only an instant. Her eyes had been lowered in an unusually deferential manner, but now she met Hal’s gaze. “I am told she is a common whore, mayhap a bawd, and lives just outside the walls of Lincoln. Her name was once Beatrice, though she may be called different now, and her hair is like mine.”

In spite of the distance between them, Gryff could feel her tension. It radiated off her, her jaw clenched tight as she blinked at Hal, expectant. He did not know what she imagined the answer might be, but he saw she was bracing herself for it.

“Her hair?” echoed Hal, politely confused.

She had put up her hood when they had entered the church, and now she pushed it back from her face. Beneath it, the plain blue kerchief only showed her hair at the edges, so she reached over her shoulder to untuck the cloth and pull a sheaf forward. It fell shining to her waist, little ripples of golden silk that flowed over her breast to her belt. Gryff could still feel it between his fingers, cool and soft, the first touch he had stolen from her.

“Bettie,” said Hal immediately. “She is called Bargate Bettie.” He was looking at Nan a little doubtfully, a little curiously. “She is a bawd, aye, and her place is south of Bargate bridge.”

She nodded and tucked her hair behind her, pulling the hood back up. None of the tension had left her. Gryff saw her snap her fingers for Fuss before she remembered that the dog, still wary of birds, had not followed her inside the mews. In the moment that she paused, it struck him that she would leave now. Without a word, she would leave him.

The elation of finding Hal was swept aside, replaced by a formless fear. No more would he find her by his side when the memories froze him, or stole his sleep. Tomorrow he would wake to the dangerous world again – and she would not be there to steady him with her quiet acceptance of that danger, her acceptance of him. He might never hear her silence again.

He tried to move his tongue to thank her, but the words would not come. Mere thanks were inadequate. You saved me, he wanted to say. So much had she done for him – and what had he done for her in return, but steal touches and cause her to shrink from him?

“It is unwise to go there now.” Hal spoke emphatically, stopping her just as she was turning to go. “It is no place for decent women to wander, if they would be safe from lecherous rogues.”

“That’s no concern to me,” she assured him.