never give in? Did he really think her
foolish enough to believe he was sincerely proposing to her? Yes,
perhaps he did think that of the Sophia she pretended to be. She must
answer him as that girl would. She cast her eyes down, her hands clasped
before her.

"Simon, do not torment me. I know that you cannot marry me. My uncle has
told me who you are--your ancient noble house, your vast holdings.
Perhaps you mean to be kind to me by speaking of marriage, but a man of
your rank has too many obligations. You cannot marry as you choose. So,
please, speak of it no more."

_But what if we could get married?_

The thought arose unbidden in her mind as she stared down at the brown
pine needles. She wanted to drive it out again, but could not stop
herself from seeing what it might be like.

Marriage, a home, a fixed, secure abode where she might live out her
life in serene, peaceful occupations. Raising children, spinning,
embroidering, managing a household. What so many women, rich and poor,
had. What she had not known since she was a young girl--a _place_, a
_family_. And to be the wife of a man like Simon--kind, brave, handsome,
well spoken.

She understood suddenly why it was always so easy for her to forget
Sophia Karaiannides and become Sophia Orfali. She did what was given her
to do, but in the core of her heart what she longed for was to be
someone like Sophia Orfali, who truly had a place in the world. Sophia
Orfali, for all that she was a mask, was more real than Sophia
Karaiannides.

It was too painful for her, the unexpected longing for the love she
could never have, the grief for Simon, whom she was going to murder.

"Let us get back, you to your scudiero and I to my escort," she said.
She started walking toward the road.

He stepped in front of her. "Sophia, wait."

She felt something in her chest like a ball of iron. She had her tears
well under control for the moment, but she had to get away from him.
Otherwise she would not be able to stop herself from crying.

"Please," he said again. She felt herself forced to look up at him. His
thin face, so grave, so intelligent.

"I beg you to believe me. I do want you desperately. Love is of the
spirit, and it is of the body too. But I am not proposing marriage just
to possess you. I want to marry you because I love you."

She stood looking at this handsome young man and breathing the fragrance
of pine-scented air, and she thought of David. What she felt