The water was gone and her lips touched his palm. Deliberately she paused a moment before drawing back.
He moved toward her, holding out both hands, but she turned as if she had not noticed and took a step away from him on the gravel, dropping the gauze veil before her face.
"You have not explained to me why you think you should not be walking alone with me, Your Signory."
"Ah—well—" He had to gather his thoughts, she saw. Such a boy. She'd had a middle-aged emperor and a splendid young king as lovers. She now felt herself in love with a strange Saracen warrior, a Mameluke, who was subtle, ruthless, kindly, mysterious, daring—so many things, it dizzied her to think about him.
But Simon's simplicity brought back memories of Alexis, the boy she had loved when she herself was as innocent as Simon now appeared to be.
Simon said, "Because your uncle leads the faction here in Orvieto that opposes the Tartars. And because the chief witness against them has been the merchant David, who dwells, as you do, in the cardinal's house."
He hates David. She heard it in his voice.
"What has that to do with you and me, Simon?" This was the right moment, she thought, to call him by his name. "I care nothing for affairs of state. In Siracusa we have better things to do with our time than worry about alliances and wars."
"Everyone will be affected by what happens here concerning the Tartars," he said. "Even the people of Siracusa."
She tried to look impressed. "If you think it would be so good for Christians and Tartars to fight together against the Saracens, I cannot imagine why my uncle is against it."