Bathsheba (19 page)

“I will stay,” she whispered beneath the gentle pressure of his lips on hers.

Emotion throbbed between them like a living, breathing thing. His kiss deepened, heating her blood, until desire won over reason.

16

Bathsheba lay perfectly still, listening to the king’s even breathing. Darkness shrouded them beneath rich purple curtains hanging from the ceiling across four golden posts. The privacy should have brought her some sense of comfort, but guilt and desire warred like opposing armies within her, making sleep impossible. She should go home at once, before anyone suspected, but to move would disturb him. Did she dare? Would he even notice or miss her? What did his other women do once he had finished with them?

The questions assaulted her until her fear returned, crushing her. Why had she given in to him? She stole a glance at his face but could make out little in the dim light. Surely the night still surrounded them. She had not lain awake here long enough for dawn to come. Perhaps if she moved very quietly, she could leave unnoticed. It would be for the best. But dare she go without his dismissal?

She shifted, testing the bed’s softness, and moved closer to the edge. But as she was about to swing her legs to the floor, David’s arm came around her waist and pulled her to him. His breath tingled against her neck.

“Don’t go. Not yet.” He buried his head against her hair and drew in a slow breath.

“It isn’t safe for me to stay, my lord. Someone will see me, and my household will wonder if I don’t return this night.” She shifted to face him and stroked a hand along his bearded jaw. “Though I do not wish to go.”

He kissed her, and she responded, wishing the time did not have to end but knowing it must.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said.

“Nor I you.”

His arms tightened around her, and his sigh sounded strangled, as though he was powerless despite all the power that was his to wield. “You are right, of course.”

She choked on a sob, unable to speak.

“There now, don’t cry, beloved.” He pulled her closer, rubbing circles along her back. “Everything will be fine. Am I not the king? If anyone questions you, send me word, and I will deal with them.”

She nodded and sniffed against his chest, strangely comforted. He was the king. He had called for her, and she had only done her duty to obey his request. As her father and husband had done in war, so she had done in peace. She had nothing to fear.

“I only wish I could see you again.” He kissed the top of her head and held her away from him, searching her gaze in the dimness.

“And I you, my lord.”

“Call me David when we are alone.”

“David.” She smiled, though she knew it came out wobbly. “Beloved one.”

He kissed her again, a gentle reminder of all they had shared, then released her. “I’m not sure we should risk this again.”

Disappointment mingled with the guilt she could not shake. “No, I’m sure we should not.” She touched his face once more, and bent to place a soft kiss on his lips. “Though I wish we could, David.”

She slipped from his arms and snatched her tunic from the floor. Quickly dressing in the dark, she parted the curtains of his bed and stood a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the change of light.

She sensed his presence behind her before she felt his touch on her shoulder. “You forgot this.”

He held out her blue head covering, her protection against exposure, though she was certain her guilt was evident despite any veil she might try to hide behind. The thought sent a shiver through her.

“I will send a guard to accompany you home.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she turned, caught once more in his embrace.

“I will never forget you.”

She nodded against his chest. “Such a thing would be impossible.” Another sob worked its way to her throat, and she feared she would break down and weep in front of him. Instead, she leaned closer and kissed him one last time, then hurried to the door of his chambers.

David caught her hand as she touched the latch, brought her fingers to his lips, and gave her one last lingering look. He turned the knob and opened the door. The stern-looking guard she had seen when she arrived stood straight-backed with arms crossed.

“Take this woman to her home, Benaiah.” David’s command cut through her thoughts. The guard nodded and marched away, Bathsheba quickly following. He had not called her by name, probably for her own protection, though the guard surely knew who she was. She was simply a woman who had spent a night with the king. It was time she put that aside and went back to her life, knowing that the king—David—would all too soon forget her.

The house sat bathed in deep darkness as she moved over the stones of the courtyard. Benaiah stood in silence, waiting for her to stop fumbling with the latch and open the door. When at last her trembling fingers managed to hold steady and slide the inside bar to the side, she turned to face Benaiah and nodded.

“Thank you for seeing me home.” She attempted a smile, but his appraising look stifled the urge. He had already judged her, and would no doubt tell Uriah once he returned. How well did the king trust this man to keep his secrets? If anyone knew, if Uriah found out . . .

A sick feeling rose within her as it had since she first stepped into the king’s gardens. She could be stoned. Uriah’s strict adherence to the law would demand it. He would never see her pardoned, even on the king’s request.

And then a new thought seized her. Would David implicate himself in this? Or would he leave her to face her father and her husband alone? She looked at Benaiah, wondering why the man had not left yet, then realized he was waiting for her to enter her house and shut the door, as any faithful guard would do.

“What happened tonight,” she said, searching for the words to ask him how much he knew, how much he would say once Uriah returned. “I mean—”

“It is not mine to tell, mistress. The king’s business is his alone.” He nodded to her then and waved her into the house with his hand.

She dipped her head, her heart thumping hard and fast beneath the soft blue linen. Her fingers gripped the belt at her waist, while the other hand clutched the edge of the door. She stepped into the house and slowly closed the door, waiting, listening for the guard’s footsteps on the stones.

“How did it go, my lady?”

Bathsheba jerked around at the sound of Tirzah’s soft voice, her heart suddenly hammering like hoofbeats. “It went well. Everything is fine.”

“There is no word of the master then?” Tirzah took a step closer, searching her face, but Bathsheba ducked her head and hurried down the hall to her room, needing the shelter of the quiet sanctuary, where she could crawl into bed and forget.

“My lady, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Bathsheba moved into the room, glancing about. “Are the servants in bed?”

“They retired many hours ago. I only awoke when I heard the latch. I’ve been waiting on the couch in the sitting room, worrying.” Tirzah steadied the clay lamp in her hand, her night tunic rumpled as though she had been trying to sleep for many hours.

“You need not have stayed up on my account.” Bathsheba turned away, wincing at her cryptic tone. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. If you will help me undress, I feel as though I might stay in bed for a week.”

“Yes, of course, my lady.” Tirzah set the lamp in the niche in the wall and moved closer to take the scarf from Bathsheba’s hands. “Where are your combs?”

Bathsheba felt her head and touched her undone hair. Heat crept up her neck as she realized she had hurried away without her best combs, the ones her father had given her when she married Uriah. Had it not been for the king’s realization that she had nearly left her scarf, she might have walked through Jerusalem’s streets an uncovered, brazen woman! What must Tirzah think of her? How to explain such a thing?

“I . . .” Her tongue felt thick against the lie hovering on her lips. Tirzah looked at her with concern. Dare she tell this faithful servant the truth? “I must have forgotten them.” She turned around then, her hands shaking on the golden belt, trying unsuccessfully to undo the knot as David had done so masterfully hours ago. Tears fell unbidden, and she tasted the salt as they dripped into her mouth. She quickly swiped them away, but she could not stop the need to weep.

“Leave me!” The hoarse whisper sounded more like a whimper than a command. She forced her hands to finish undoing the belt, her back turned to Tirzah until she heard the door click behind her.

She tossed the leather from her and yanked her arms out of her robe and tunic. Shivering in the dark, she fumbled for her night tunic, then tossed a day robe about her before burying her head beneath the wool covers. Uriah’s faint scent still lingered on the bedcovering, bringing the events of the night into sharper focus. Memories of Uriah’s passionate kisses and tender touch mingled with the king’s gentle way with her, until she could no longer separate the two.

Her tears came uncontrolled now, and when she closed her eyes, Uriah’s smiling face looked back at her, love evident in every feature. He did love her, didn’t he? And she had thrown it all away on a whim of loneliness.

What had she done?

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