Her hands, palms downwards, were pressed hard against the woven surface of the tapestry on either side of her.
As he approached she shrank back, her whole body taut and straining against the wall.

Then she bent her head and flung up her arms, curving them to shield her face.

Davilof could just see the rounded whiteness of them, glimmering like pale pearl next the satin sheen of night-black hair.
With a stifled cry he sprang forward and gripped them in his strong, supple hands, drawing them down inexorably.
"Kiss me!" he demanded fiercely.

"Magda, kiss me!" She shook her head, struggling for speech.
"No!" she gasped.

"No!" She glanced desperately round, but he had her hemmed in, prisoned against the wall.
"Kiss me!" he repeated unsteadily.