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" I said."You hesitated, you didn't mean that." she sighed."No really, I only hesitated because I was shocked someone with your beauty would have to ask the question. If you were my wife I certainly would worship you." I said. She went silent. I felt like I crossed a line. After several minutes she looked at me and smiled. "Did you mean what you said?" she asked."Yes, of course." I answered. "You can call me Sarah." she said.After an hour or so we pulled up to the Beach House. To her it was a beach house, to me it was as big as a castle. She told the driver to go someplace and wait for her call. He drove off. We walked up to the house and entered. She signaled me to keep quiet and she quickly went through the place room to room."A damn it, she's not here." Sarah said."Who's not here?" I replied"That fucking whore he has living out here. He thinks I don't know, but I know. Some brunette French bitch, maybe 24, 25 years old. He brings her out here and fucks her." she said.She continued. She felt safer in the shadows and tapped lightly at the backdoor. She hoped Conn would come to the door himself, his wife was not as broadminded and would have liked her husband to cease all dealings with Deirdre. With a sigh of relief Deirdre saw the door open a crack to show the grey eyes of Conn. The stout merchant raised his eyebrows in surprise and opened the door wide to let her in. A quick look outside convinced him no one saw the herb lady enter his home and he quietly closed the door again, bolted it and only then turned to have a look at his unusual visitor. ‘What’s wrong?’ He gestured towards the bench near the big hearth, the fire already banked for the night. He waited for her to sit down, then lifted a jug of ale from the table and held it up with a questioning look on his face. When she nodded he poured two mugs and settled himself at the table. He observed her taking a sip of the cool liquid and noticed the shiver that went through her. ‘Come on, out with it. What.
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