And now Sophia went over to the very bed he had imagined, and perched on it. The frame of the canopied bed was high above the floor, and when Sophia sat on it her feet dangled prettily, reminding Simon how much shorter than he she was. The sight of her on the bed made him tremble, frightened by his own passion. There was no one here to protect this innocent girl from him, except himself. "Sit with me," she said, patting the coverlet beside her. He knew that the best way to protect her was to go nowhere near her. But he wanted desperately to sit beside her, to feel her hand in his again, to put his arms around her. _But if I take her in my arms, on her very bed, how can I stop myself?_ Still, she had invited him to sit with her, and an invitation from his lady was a command. He had intended to sing a love song to her. He had not the skill at making poetry to be a troubadour, but he had a good tenor voice, and he had learned dozens of troubadour songs early in life from Roland. He had sung them before he understood what they meant, because he liked the sound of them. He bowed and went to the bed. He sat as far from her as possible. "Will you let me sing for you?" When she smiled, he noticed, dimples appeared in her cheeks. "Oh, that would be a pleasure. But softly, please. We do not want to rouse my uncle's servants." Softly, then, he sang. My love is the flower that opens at morning, That greets with her petals the radiant sun, Yet methinks 'tis not she who lives by the sun, But the sun gives its light so my lady may shine. Sophia's smile was itself sunny as he finished the first verse. She leaned back, putting her hands out behind her on the bed, and closed her eyes as he sang the second and third. When he began the fourth verse, she drew closer to him till their legs were touching. Making himself concentrate on his music, he went on to the fifth verse. He resolved that at the end of it he would stand up and move away. At sunset my love will close up her petals Till with the dawn she awakens again, And her beauty will blaze out to dazzle the day. To see her the sun will be eager to rise. By the end of that verse she was leaning against him and had reached around behind him to stroke his neck. Without his consciously willing it, his arm stole around her waist and pulled her to him. His song, he realized, was insidious in its power. He had thought only to entertain her with his music, but he was seducing her. Her head rested on his shoulder, her eyes closed. Her fingers crept slowly, delicately, across the back of his neck under his hair, sending thrills down his spine. He could not move away from her. "Stop," he whispered. "Please stop." "Are you afraid of me?" she asked softly. "I am afraid for both of us. You do not know what a raging fire a lovely woman like you can kindle in a man like me."