Barrow Fields Lord, show [m]e how to say no to this

He was silent, not even mentioning her half murmured words. She was content with that, focusing instead on her still rapid heartbeat, willing it to slow. She shifted her hips, her back still a bit sore from his weight (and all the others'). All that was in the air was the distant crash of the waves and the caws of seagulls and their breathing. That was enough for the witch, who, like her lover, wanted her identity hidden.