She felt her body opening to him, felt her bone-deep need of him. If they came together now, it would be love, not the love she felt for David, but love even so. And if she condemned him to death then, she would destroy herself. But if she did not tell David where Simon was going, she would betray him, and bring ruin down on his people and her own. If she let Simon make love to her, she would be so torn that afterward she would probably go mad. He was already partly on top of her, and she wriggled away from him, pushing at him. "Stop it!" There was a power in her voice that she had not intended to unleash. She was no longer Cardinal Ugolini's sweet little niece, Sophia Orfali from Sicily, but Sophia Karaiannides, the woman of Byzantium. A hand's width of space separated their faces. Her voice seemed to freeze him. He stared at her as if he were seeing a stranger. Then anger blazed up in his eyes. His arms tightened. Those arms seemed so lean, but the strength in them was like steel chains drawn tight. She clenched her fists and locked her bent arms in front of her to keep him away. His lips drew back from his teeth and she felt his hot breath on her face. _Frankish barbarian!_ she thought. Where only a moment ago she had wanted him, now she hated him. He was just like all those mail-clad savages who had destroyed Constantinople, stolen, raped, murdered her parents. Yes, and she had helped the Basileus Michael to drive them out, and she would kill this one too. Never would a union of Frankish and Tartar barbarians threaten her people. By this one man's death she could guarantee that. With all the strength her anger gave her, she straightened her arms, pushing him away. Her right arm free, she thrust her open palm against his jaw, forcing his head back. "Let me go!" And again it was the powerful voice of Sophia Karaiannides. "God's blood!" His eyes were wide, and there was amazement in them, no longer anger. He released her so suddenly she fell back, hard, against the floor of the forest. Immediately he reached for her, but his hands were gentle once more, helping her to sit up. He knelt before her. "Please forgive me." He sounded on the verge of tears. "Please. I lost command of myself." Standing up, she brushed pine needles from the back of her skirt and her shawl. He moved to help her, and she pulled away. "Sophia, I have never loved any woman as much as I love you." "Nonsense. Simon, you have far to ride." He moved around so that he was facing her, his usually pale face flushed, his chest heaving. "Marry me, Sophia." If he had struck her, she could not have been more astonished. But she quickly recovered herself. He thought he could have his way with her by offering marriage.