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too. Did the whole town think she had thrown herself at the baron, simply because she had gone to the hall alone?
    She heaved a sigh. Her reputation was bad enough, without having harlotry added to the list of her sins.
    She hefted the clamming shovel up onto her left shoulder, Oscar bobbing happily on her right as she walked down the street, her mind chewing over why the baron might be asking about her.
    She hardly noticed when Oscar left her shoulder, and her feet had already taken her halfway home and up the path to the Giving Stone before a sense of something wrong pulled her from her reverie. She was in the midst of an imaginary conversation with the baron, explaining to him why she had no interest in furthering their acquaintance, when Oscar’s squawks of “Eee-diot! Eee-diot!” finally caught her attention.
    Heart beating wildly, she quickened her pace. She came around the last hillock and saw him, sitting with arrogant languor upon the Giving Stone, legs stretched out and crossed before him. His horse cropped at grass just outside the stone circle. She stopped where she was, observing him as he frowned up at Oscar, now perched atop one of the few remaining upright stones. As if sensing her presence, or perhaps assuming that Oscar’s arrival heralded her own, he turned and saw her.
    The frown smoothed out and he smiled, then stood and gestured negligently towards Oscar, who was now pacing the top of a stone slab like a soldier on watch. “I begin to wonder if that bird does not bear me a certain amount of ill will. Or perhaps he warns me to beware my own foolish impulses.”
    “What are you doing here?” It came out harsher than she had intended, her breast a welter of conflicting emotions: eagerness, embarrassment, distrust.
    His smile, suspiciously smooth to begin with, only deepened. “Why, to see you, of course.” Valerian stared at him, not sure how to react to this peculiar statement. “And to apologize,” he continued. “I had not realized I would be offending you by offering coinage for your services. I assure you, I was quite unaware of this custom of leaving gifts, else I never would have tried to pay you.”
    “Apparently whoever you asked neglected to tell you that it is to be left anonymously.”
    “Is that so?” He sounded entirely unconcerned. “I shall keep that in mind for the future.”
    Propping the shovel against the rock, Valerian came forward to see what, if anything, was on the stone.
    “It is not much of a way to make a living,” the baron said, “if today’s income is any measure.”
    The stone was devoid of offerings, which was no great surprise. There was only so much illness to be tended, so many requests for water-divining in the countryside. “Aunt Theresa and I take care of ourselves quite well, thank you.”
    He moved closer to her. “So I hear, although it does sound like a lonely sort of life. Does not a young woman like yourself dream of pretty things? Fancy dresses, parties, baubles for your ears and throat? Of the city, and perhaps a young man to escort you from ball to ball, and to lead you out onto the dance floor?”
    She looked up at him, into his hazel eyes. He was focused entirely upon her, and a blush heated her cheeks under his scrutiny. She looked away. “I have plenty to keep me occupied. I have no need of such frivolities. What good would jewels and silks do me in Greyfriars, but earn the envy and hatred of others?”
    He did not answer her, and the silence vibrated between them, growing in heat and intensity. She saw him lift his hand, and could not move as he reached toward her and lightly ran the back of one finger down her cheek.
    No man had ever touched her like that, and the shock of it rooted her in place. She knew she should move away, but she stood motionless instead, caught in the surprise of the sensation. Her lips parted as he moved his hand to the back of her neck and delved his fingers into the hair at her nape, gently massaging.
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