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."
She withdrew her hand from his neck and let it rest on his thigh. That, he thought, made it even more difficult for him.
"I must tell you something," she said. "I am not—wholly innocent."
His heart felt a sudden chill. How could this dear creature be anything but innocent?
Now her hands were in her lap and her eyes were cast down. "As you surely know, most women past twenty, unless they are nuns, have been married for years. You must have wondered what I am doing in Orvieto, unmarried, living with my uncle."