It was cold tonight. He could feel her shiver. Not just from the cold, but from this game of dares she played against herself. She challenged herself, to see if she dared face the danger after she'd created it. He didn't see any way she could win.

"My name's Lore lei," she told him coquettishly,and he heard part of the truth in the name. When he made no response, she twitched her young hips kittenishly and moved closer, so close that he nearly brushed against her each time he drew the bow across the strings.

"I'm Daniel," he told her, putting no more into the words than a polite exchange of names. A man in a passing car called to the whores on the corner. Lore lei flinched, clutched at his elbow for a second, and then snatched her fingers back.

Her cheeks, already reddened with cold, darkened further with embarrassment. She had lost face before him; he sensed a sudden hardening of her determination. She'd show him. He tried not to sigh. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and chose a new line. "I really like your hair," she said. "The blackness, the way it curls. And I like your mustache. I wish more men grew them. I like men that are really,you know, masculine."

He knew what really masculine was. He was willing to bet she didn't.

She giggled, nervous and high, pushed herself deeper into her game. "I always wonder, though,how you kiss through a mustache like that. Know what I mean?" Teasing invitation.

Again, he did and she didn't. He glanced at her.She her.Sheclose now that when his arm moved with the bow, it brushed her upper arm. He breathed out heavily, trying to clear her perfume from his head. So young, this one. He watched her body moving gracefully, unconsciously, to his music. She reminded him of something, of someone so long ago it seemed like another life. Maybe it had been. Had he ever really been that young boy, sneaking away from the fire to follow the girl to the edge of the woods and then into them, or were they just the memories of the music?So long ago. The sweet stirring in his loins was like an old ache, and the music went warm with longing,not for this painted little girl, but for a young girl and boy who had kissed and touched, how may lifetimes ago?

The music touched her and the night filled up her eyes, edging her one step closer to womanhood, reminding her of something that as yet she had no memories of. The next man who passed sensed it.Danieit. Danield him no heed when he'd slowed down and looked at the whores on the corner, but then he noticed the girl. The man watched her for a moment,a smile quirking the corners of his mouth, then he walked over, threw a twenty dollar bill down into the fiddle case and jerked his head at her. Daniel heard her breath catch as she edged behind him.

"Your mistake, friend," Daniel said mildly, and nodded at the money, hoping the man would just pick it up and leave.

Instead his smile changed to a scowl. He stared at the girl, started to walk on, then stopped and stared again. Daniel wished she wouldn't look at the man so. It was the fear in her eyes that was drawing him,that made him lick his mouth wet and ask, "How much, then, damnit?"

Daniel looked at him: husky, but not too husky;short, reddish hair beneath his cap; wearing a brown vest of some synthetic material that must be warmer than it looked. Daniel shook his head slowly. He didn't want this. His fiddle might get hurt. He stopped playing and lowered it slowly, hoping he'd be able to set it down gently if he had to. "It's a mistake, friend. She isn't for sale, this one. They are,"he said, and gestured toward the whores on the corner, feeling diminished but not knowing what else to do.

The man didn't move. His eyes went colder. Daniel could almost feel the man's toes curling in his cowboy boots as he tried to decide whether this gypsy was pushing him around, and whether this girl was worth fighting for. The girl moved, gripping the back of Daniel's coat. He felt both her fear and the man's lust growing. Carefully he set the fiddle down in its case,put the bow in its holder, and closed the case. He held out the twenty toward the man, but he slapped it aside. "Damnit, don't fuck with me. Give you fifty for her."

Daniel tucked the money into the man's shirt pocket. "We are leaving now," he said softly, and stooped to pick up his fiddle case. The man swung at him as he did, and Daniel rose, his knee coming up into the man's crotch as he pushed him backwardbackwards. He parking meter and stumbled into the street.Astreet.A car blared its horn and splashed oily water over him.

"You sum bitch, I'll kill you, I swear I'll kill you,"the man yelled, but Daniel had his fiddle under one arm and the girl on the other and was walking swiftly away.

The girl was trembling and clutching his arm; he could feel the soft warmth of her through his sleeve.Hsleeve. He aim around her and walked faster. Three blocks later her trembling was getting worse. She kept tripping on her shoes. Poor little thing. He stopped at the mouth of an alley, set down his fiddle and removed his coat. He wrapped it around her, turning the collar up around her bare neck. But as he did so in all innocence, she stepped into his arms, turned her face up to his and kissed him.

Despite himself, his arms closed around her. She was so young, so much innocence, so much wonder,everything was new to her, a child, a woman, and for an instant he believed he could just take her and go somewhere, start again, a life that was not filled with omens and destinies, a life of babies and meadow grass and traveling the land, always as young as she was. A life that belonged to him alone, that was not owed to his brother. Her mouth was very soft in its inexperience, and the cloying perfume seemed suddenly, dizzying sweet. The kiss she had started became something he taught her. And, when that should have been all, she began to respond-to hold him closer than she should have, to feel desires he had no business bringing out in her, or she in him,and yet he knew her passion was as real as his, which should have frightened him more than it did. And it should have frightened her much more than it seemed to.

Her hand went to her mouth when he stepped back from her, touching her lips as if still feeling the brush of his mustache.

"So. Now you see. That's how you do it," he told her, and heard the pleased silliness in his own voice.Shvoice. Sheup at him, asking for more, her eyes very bright and shining; shining for him. He felt intoxicated with the girl, the night, and even the perfume.perfume.His thoughts reeled through her scent. She fit under his arm as snugly as his fiddle fit under his chin.Somchin.Somethingously like romance swelled his soul.He soul.He aloud, and when he did, her arm came around his waist. They walked together, he didn't care where, and then they were outside a cafe.

"I didn't get any dinner," she said, so tentatively that his heart broke over her hunger.

"I'll feed you," he promised, and opened the door,not caring that he hadn't a cent in his pockets. This was not a night to worry about practical things, it was time to be young again.

They sat down in a booth together, side by side,Lore lei near the window, and he thought he had never seen anything as lovely as this girl wrapped in his weathered green coat. He took a napkin from the dispenser, and gently wiped some of the paint from her face. Her skin beneath it was beautiful, and she sat still beneath his touch.

Someone set glasses of water on the table. "Ready to order?" asked a redheaded waitress, and he suddenly realized she had been standing there for sometime. He looked at his Lore lei, smiling encouragement.

"Burger, fries, and a Coke," she said without hesitation.

"Coffee," he added, and didn't care about the waitress's grim disapproval as she turned away.

"Are you warmer now, little sparrow?" he asked her. She nodded shyly, and looked down at the tabletop. He had to put his fingers under her chin and lift her face so he could see those eyes again, and when he did, he had to brush his lips across her forehead,because he couldn't stand not to.