From his seat on the floor, David looked up at her with a hard smile.
"And, since I am certain you gave him incomparable pleasure in bed, he
will overcome any objections he has to seeing you again."
She felt as if he had stamped on her heart. To him she was nothing but a
harlot to be used to ensnare his enemies.
And if that was all _he_ thought she was, how could she find it possible
to think any better of herself?
_If I am not a whore, what am I?_
But she would tell him the truth whether or not he chose to believe it.
"Nothing happened between us," she said tonelessly.
He stared at the carpet. She saw hope struggling with doubt in his face.
Doubt won. His smile was cynical.
"You failed to seduce him? I cannot believe that."
"Whatever you may believe, that was how it was."
"Why do you bother to lie to me?" Anger smoldered in his face. His
cheeks were reddening.
"Why _would_ I lie to you? It would make no difference to you if I went
to bed with Simon."
"If, as you say, nothing happened, then explain to me why it did not."
He folded his arms and sat hunched forward.
"When a man like Simon is in love--" she said, and stopped. "You _do_
understand what I mean by love?" How did a man brought up in Egypt as a
slave to Turks feel about women? Saracens, she knew, kept their many
wives locked up most of the time.