Sophia expected him to lead her downstairs to his bedchamber, but instead, she found herself guided towards the far end of the roof garden. A coarse, whitewashed wall, about twice the height of a man rose up over that corner of the fortress. It had the look of a watch tower, or a guard room with a heavy wooden studded door set in the wall.
For a split second, she wondered if she had pushed too hard. Was he going to punish her for her outburst, incarcerate and leave her there until she learned her lesson? Her disquiet must have communicated itself to Yunan, because he stopped and looked at her.
"It is not a sleeping chamber." Yunan moved a brick set back in the wall and retrieved and a very heavy iron key which he set into the door. It needed both his hands to turn the key in the lock and push the door open wide.
"Come," he beckoned her.
Releasing a long breath, Sophia followed him through the door. Inside, the room was lit by bright morning sunshine. Stairs grew out of the cool, tiled floor, hugging the plain, lime-washed walls. As her gaze followed the walls, she realised there was no roof above them, only a canvas sail which shaded the room from direct sunlight, casting huge shadows against the walls.
In the middle of the circular room stood two soft couches piled with so many cushions, they formed a tower which toppled onto the floor as they approached. Sophia's head was whirling. Her master came here often and from the number of couches, he did not come alone.
"This is my observatory." Yunan's deep voice cut through her thoughts, quietening them. "I come here to watch the stars and the different phases of the moon. Sometimes others come with me, to lie and watch the wonders of the night sky. Up there I have tools for marking the process of the moon and the stars. Here, at night, I mark and watch, study and muse and no-one disturbs me unless they come as my guest."
He led her over to a pallet and helped her to lie at ease, piling cushions to support her back. The baby had grown so much over the past few weeks; she could no longer lie flat with any degree of comfort.
"You spoke of ways of getting closer," Yunan reminded her. "We have known each other and yet do not know each other. It seems strange to talk of discovering such things when we have..." he smoothed his hand gently across her belly, "... the result of that knowledge here in front of us, but there is much we must learn."
Settled amongst the cushions, Sophia relaxed as Yunan knelt beside her, conscious of the warmth from his body, the spiced scents from his shaving oil and the soft breeze blowing into the rooftop room. She felt Yunan begin to stroke her hand, his thumb adding extra pressure as he smoothed the skin.
"Penelope tells me you enjoy her massages. You have a very open and sensual nature." He smiled as Sophia dropped her gaze, "I'm afraid I have indulged her. As a result, she is very direct with her comments."
Sophia blushed. "Your daughter has very skilled hands and the scents she used brought back much of my memories. It reminded me a little of the training we were given as dancers, which taught us to be aware of every muscle, every sinew in our body. We leaned to notice how each breath or lack of breath changed our flexibility, our posture – it was very thorough."
"That is good training - for any person," was Yunan's only comment, but he could sense how little she told him about how those skills were obtained; only the tension in her slender fingers beneath his own betrayed memories too painful to acknowledge.
"Even afterwards, when my mind was captive, I could still use my training to be aware of my body and the child within and sometimes – you."
"As a memory or as a presence?"
"I'm not sure." Sophia's eyes took on a distant view as she dove back into those memories again. "I would remember how you unwrapped the dancer's silks from my body. How your body was draped over the couch as you did so. Sometimes I would see you lying in a similar position and know whether you lay at ease or with stiffness in your body. Sometimes you lay on the ground and I saw only stars around you. I thought I must be dreaming.
"In my mind I would sing the songs I sang to you during our time together - not the ones they taught me to sing to you, to entice you, but songs I brought from my father's house, whose words brought the tang of the salt spray upon your brow or drizzled sweet grape juice down our dry throats."
As she spoke, Yunan's hand moved slowly upwards, the fingertips trailing softly against her breast.
"I recall very well uncoiling those silks from you. How defiantly you stood, how challengingly you stared back at me."
"Did I?"
He lifted his eyes to meet hers, "Ah yes, such fire in your eyes. Of course it enflamed me even more."
"I cannot defy you now," she whispered, "Does that remove the challenge for you?"
"The challenge is not to take you now, the challenge is to know you and to let you in to find and know me."
Sophia watched as his hand cupped her heavy breast, softly moulding to its curve
"They have grown so much," she murmured, "The old women say I shall grow larger yet when the babe is born and my milk comes in. Shall you mind?
Yunan's mouth twitched into a smile, "You should listen to the old women, Sophia. Once they were young and they have long memories and much wisdom. As for your breasts, I love them as they are yours. It will not matter to me whether they are large or small."
His fingers stole to her throat - not encircling it, just brushing there, then whispering along the side of her neck. Soon his head dipped to follow them, his lips subtle and soft, delicate open-lipped cupping against her skin while his tongue darted between breaths to tentatively taste her skin. He felt her shiver, sensing the tremor of emotions pulsing through this woman who carried his child, his lover whose secrets were yet to be fully revealed, fully exposed to his barely restrained passion.
As he lifted his head to gaze upon her beauty, he saw her eyes close, her breathing now more peaceful as she welcomed his touch. He ventured a kiss upon her cheek and then her mouth, gentle to begin with but growing more sure. He leaned into her, his tongue sweeping her lips until they parted for him, allowing him entry into the soft, warm darkness of her mouth. He touched her tongue, only to find it swirling around his, locking them together in a spiral dance until he felt they must both faint from lack of breath.
