He said solemnly: "We're not going to have babies." He took his hand away.
"Let's not think about that," she said desperately.
"Don't you sometimes wish..." He tailed off.
"What?"
"Don't you sometimes wish the world could be different from the way it is?"
She got up, walked around the table and sat close to him. "Don't wish," she said. "We're alone, and it's night. You can do anything you want." She looked directly into his eyes. "Anything."
He stared back at her. She saw the yearning in his face, and realized with a thrill of triumph that he desired her. It had required a potion to bring it out, but it was unmistakably genuine. Right now he wanted nothing in the world other than to make love to her.
Still he made no move.
She took his hand. He did not resist as she drew it to her lips. She held the big, rough fingers, then pressed the palm to her mouth. She kissed it, then licked it with the tip of her tongue. Then she pressed his hand to one breast.
His hand closed over it, making it seem very small. His mouth opened a fraction, and she could see that he was breathing hard. She tilted her head back, ready to be kissed, but he did nothing.
She stood up and quickly pulled her dress up over her head and threw it to the floor. She stood naked in front of him in the firelight. He gazed at her, eyes wide, mouth open, as if he were witnessing a miracle.
She took his hand again. This time, she touched it to the soft place between her thighs. It covered the triangle of hair there. She was so wet that his finger slipped inside her, and she gave an involuntary groan of pleasure.
But he did nothing of his own volition, and she understood that he was paralysed by indecision. He wanted her, but he had not forgotten Annet. Gwenda could move him like a puppet all night, perhaps even have sex with his inert body, but that would change nothing. She needed him to take the initiative.
She leaned forward, still holding his hand against her groin. "Kiss me," she said. She moved her face closer to his. "Please," she said. She was an inch away from his mouth. She would not get nearer: he had to close the gap.
Suddenly, he moved.
He withdrew his hand, turned away from her and stood up. "This is wrong," he said.
And she knew that she had lost.
Tears came to her eyes. She picked up her dress from the floor and held it in front of her, covering her nakedness.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done any of those things. I Misled you. I've been cruel."
No, you haven't, she thought. I've been cruel. I've misled you. But you were too strong. You're too loyal, too faithful. You're too good for me.
But she said nothing.
He kept his gaze steadfastly away from her. "You must go to the cowshed," he said. "Go to sleep. We'll feel differently in the morning. It might be all right then."
She ran out through the back door, not bothering to get dressed. It was moonlight, but there was no one to see her, and she would not have cared anyway. She was inside the cowshed in seconds.
At one end of the wooden building was a raised loft where clean straw was kept. That was where she made her bed each night. She climbed the ladder and threw herself down, too miserable to care about the sharp prickle of straw on her bare skin. She wept with disappointment and shame.
When eventually she calmed down, she stood up and put her dress on, then wrapped a blanket around her. As she did so, she thought she heard a step outside. She looked through a gap in the rough wattle-and-daub of the wall.
The moon was almost full, and she could see clearly. Wulfric was outside. He walked towards the door of the cowshed. Gwenda's heart leaped. Perhaps it was not all over yet. But he hesitated at the door, then walked away. He returned to the house, turned at the kitchen door, came back to the cowshed and turned again.
She watched him pace up and down, her heart thudding, but she did not move. She had done all she could to encourage him. He had to take the last step himself.
He stopped at the kitchen door. His body was profiled by the moonlight, a silver line running from his forelock to his boots. She