A Lineage of Grace (45 page)

She knew she should flee to the privacy of the house and complete her bath later, but hurt and resentment filled her. Why not let him see what he had let slip through his fingers? Let him think back to the skinny, sunburned child who had followed him about like an orphaned lamb after its shepherd! She boldly looked up. Would he wish now he’d asked for her instead of leaving it to her father to find a husband for her?

As David stared down, Bathsheba’s anger dissolved in a wave of sadness. Why was he standing on the wall and looking down into her courtyard? Why look at her at all with so many beautiful women at his beck and call?

“My lady?”

Startled, Bathsheba turned away, heat surging into her face. Her handmaiden glanced up at the wall. Bathsheba felt a wave of relief when she glanced up and saw that David was no longer there.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

“I was praying.” Shame rose inside her. Mortified at what she’d done, she snatched the cloth from the girl, wrapped it around her body, and ran inside the house. Slamming the bedroom door, she leaned against it, holding the damp cloth tightly. She gulped in air as she crossed the room and sank down onto her bed.

What had she done? What could she possibly have been thinking when she allowed the king to gaze upon her? She pressed her hands against her chest, wishing she could calm the wild beating of her heart. Her feelings tumbled one over another—shame, excitement, sorrow, anger, self-loathing. What must David think of her now?

Curling on her side on the bed she shared with her husband, she covered her face and wept.

* * *

David had seven wives and numerous concubines, and yet, not one could compare in beauty to the woman he had just seen bathing on a rooftop courtyard near the walls of his palace. He had found himself mesmerized by the curves of her body and the grace of every movement. Eve could not have been more perfect!

He knew the moment the woman sensed his presence above her, for she had paused and cocked her head like a hart ready for flight. She looked around slowly and then raised her head. Seeing him on the roof, she drew back quickly beneath the gauzy canopy. For an instant, he was embarrassed to be caught staring at her during such private ablution. But only for a moment. He was the king, after all, and it was his roof. He had every right to stroll it whenever he pleased. She could have bathed inside her house instead of setting up a canopy in her courtyard. What possessed her? His breath had caught in his throat when she looked up at him. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

Pushing back from the wall, David strode the battlements until he spotted one of his guards. “Joram!” When the soldier glanced up, David beckoned him.

“My lord the king?”

David took him by the arm and pointed. “There is a woman in that house. Find out who she is.”

Startled, the guard quickly left to do his bidding.

David expelled his breath slowly. Gripping the edge of the wall, he watched until the guard appeared on the street below. David turned away and went down the steps hurriedly. Waving away several of his children, he summoned another guard. “When Joram returns, send him to my private chambers immediately.”

“Yes, my lord the king.”

Alone in his bedroom, David waited. As the minutes passed, he drummed his fingers impatiently. Uneasy, he rose and ran his hand through his hair. He had never felt such fierce desire for a woman. He was troubled, but he chose to ignore the niggling discomfort. Closing his eyes, he imagined the woman again, her small hands open, her head lifted up as though in prayer, and her body, oh, her body . . .

He bolted from his seat. “What’s taking so long?” He paced, agitated and annoyed by the delay. He wanted her and he would have her, whatever the cost.

Someone tapped at the door. “Enter!” Joram stood on the threshold. “Come in and close the door behind you.” David waited, hands on his hips. “What did you find out?”

“The woman’s name is Bathsheba.”

“Bathsheba?” Why did that name sound so familiar? “Bathsheba . . .”

“She is Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam and the wife of Uriah the Hittite.”

Oh no!
David felt his stomach drop. He remembered a skinny little girl who used to sit on Ahithophel’s knee and stare at him across the fire. No! It couldn’t be! Little Bathsheba, who, as a child, had worshiped him and followed him to the stream at En-gedi.
“I want to talk with you.”
Her heart had been in her eyes. Bathsheba, married to one of his best and most reliable friends, daughter of a man he trusted and who trusted him, granddaughter of Ahithophel, Israel’s most able military adviser. Could anything be worse? He remembered looking into her eyes on her wedding day and feeling as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He’d made sure from that day on never to look at her again!

He expelled a hoarse laugh. Turning, he gripped the back of his neck. The old weariness and depression rose up once again. “You may go, Joram.”

“Is there anything you wish for, my lord the king?”

David clenched his teeth. “Nothing I can have.”

“Nothing is out of your reach, sire. You are the
king
. Whatever you want is yours.”

David lowered his hand and raised his head. He
was
the king. Furthermore, his army was miles away at Rabbah. Uriah, Eliam, and Ahithophel had been gone for months and would not return for many more to come. His heart began to pound. What if he did summon Bathsheba to his private chambers? What if they did find pleasure in one another’s arms? What harm could one night do? Who would ever know?

His desire for Bathsheba burned hotter.

“What is your wish, sire?”

“Bring her to me.” He felt a pang of guilt as he spoke his lust aloud, but he quickly squelched it with thoughts of the night ahead. Still, he must be prudent. “Wait until dark before you go for her, and take another soldier you know can keep a secret.”

“And if the woman resists?”

“She won’t.” Bathsheba had loved him for years. She’d followed him around the camps at Adullam and En-gedi. He’d thought she was a pesky little fly then, but now . . .

“But if she does . . . ?”

She was a common woman and he was a king. “My order stands.” Joram bowed and left. David knew Bathsheba would come to him. She had been extending him an invitation when she had so boldly met his eyes during her bath. If she regretted her impulse, he would take pleasure in swaying her.

It would be hours yet before Bathsheba was brought to his bedchamber. Time enough to bathe and anoint himself with scented oils. Time enough to order a small feast prepared. Time enough to burn incense to tease her senses. Time enough to think about the pleasures of the night ahead.

Time enough for sin to conquer him.

* * *

Bathsheba spent the rest of the afternoon in her chamber, weeping and wondering how she would ever have the courage to show her face before the king again. She dressed in a loose embroidered robe that hid every curve of her body. She brushed her hair until her scalp hurt. Then, holding the brush against her chest, she rocked and sobbed. Time hadn’t dissolved her love for David. This afternoon when she realized he was the one on the roof looking down at her, all the old feelings had risen up and swept over her again.

Someone tapped at her door. “My lady?” came the muffled voice of her maid.

“Go away!”

“There’s a soldier at the door, my lady!” The girl’s voice was shaking with alarm. “He said you must come!”

A soldier? Bathsheba rose quickly. She could think of only one reason a soldier would come to her door. Uriah was wounded or dead! Uttering a sob, Bathsheba threw open her door, brushed past her maid, and hurried through the house, her handmaiden on her heels.

The soldier stood just inside her door, but he wasn’t dusty from travel. And he wore a palace guard’s uniform. Startled, Bathsheba stopped. “Why are you here?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “The king has summoned you, Lady Bathsheba.”

“Summoned me?” Confused, she stared back at him. “The king?”

“Yes.
The king.
” He stepped back and extended his hand toward the open front door. Another soldier was standing outside looking in at her. Bathsheba began to shake. She was a little girl again, crouching behind a boulder as David reprimanded her. Her cheeks caught fire.

“My lady.” The handmaiden moaned. “Oh, my lady.”

Bathsheba turned to her quickly and grasped her hands. “Hush, now. The king won’t harm me, Hatshepsut. He’s known my father and grandfather for many years.” Could that be the reason he was summoning her? “Perhaps he has news of them. Go quickly and bring me my shawl.” The girl ran to do her bidding while Bathsheba stood, filled with anxiety, before the palace guard. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he waited, head up, eyes straight ahead. Was it bad news from Rabbah? “Has the king summoned my mother as well?” Why would the king bother himself to personally inform two women they had lost loved ones in the war?

“Your mother?” The guard spoke wryly. “I think not.”

“Then can you tell me why the king wishes to see me?”

He looked at her then, and the expression in his eyes made heat rise into her cheeks again.

Her handmaiden returned with a shawl. Heart pounding, Bathsheba took it and draped it over her head and across one shoulder so that her face wouldn’t be seen. As she went out the door, the guards fell in on either side of her. It didn’t occur to her until she was near the palace entrance that she was still wearing the loose embroidered robe she normally wore only inside her own house.

“This way!” The guard jerked his head and led her toward a pathway around to a side entrance used only by servants. If there had been any question in her mind as to the clandestine reason for the king’s summons, or her social standing in his eyes, she had none now. Tears of shame pricked her eyes. She had only herself to blame for this situation. She kept her head down and her face covered as she went in through the servants’ entrance. She walked through the palace kitchen, the servants’ quarters and corridors, and up a flight of stairs, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The guards stopped before a door. One knocked lightly, and the other stood to one side.

The moment the door opened and Bathsheba looked up, she forgot all about the guards. David’s gaze was fixed upon her.

When he smiled and held out his hand, she took it, her breath catching when his fingers closed warm and firm around hers. He drew her into his private chamber as he gave orders to the guard to keep watch. “No one is to disturb me.” And then David closed the door behind her. Her heart leaped and bounded like a rabbit fleeing for its life. He still had hold of her hand, and there seemed to be no indication that he intended to let go. “I’m glad you came.”

“Did I have any choice?”

“You did choose.”

He kissed her hand, his eyes smiling into hers. “Why do you cover your face, when you’re more beautiful than the sun or the moon?”

When she raised her hand to hold her shawl in place, he inclined his head slightly. “Come. I’ve had a meal prepared for us. Let me serve you.”

The air was filled with the sweet scent of incense. Cushions were scattered on the floor. A large bed loomed across the room. Food was spread over a long table. “How many were you expecting?”

He laughed, and the throaty sound made her tremble. “Only you, my sweet.”

“I’m not very hungry.” Gathering her courage, she looked at him. “Do you know who I am?”

“Of course.” His eyes caressed her face. “You’re the little girl who used to stare across the fire at me. Do you remember following me to the stream at En-gedi?”

“I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m—”

“The most beautiful woman in the kingdom.” David searched her eyes. “You said you wanted to talk to me that morning. I told you to go home.” He tucked his finger into her shawl and drew it down from her face. “Talk to me now, Bathsheba.” He stepped closer and lifted the shawl from her hair. “Say whatever is on your mind.” The shawl slipped down from her shoulders and pooled around her feet.

“Why do you call for me
now
?” Her voice was thick with tears. All the years she had dreamed and hoped. She had never wanted to come to him like this. Summoned in the middle of the night . . .

“You know.” He breathed against her neck.

Her skin tingled. “It’s too late.”

“You’re here with me now.”

She drew back and lifted her chin, scarcely able to see his face through her tears. “Summoned like a harlot and brought to you through the servants’ gate!” She shook her head and bowed her head again. “And I’ve no one else to blame, considering the way I behaved this afternoon. I’m sorry. I—”

“You took my breath away.”

“I did?” Her child’s heart trembled and swelled with pride. “Oh, David. Send me back.”

“Not yet.” He tipped her chin firmly. “You aren’t happy, are you?”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. “How can you ask such a question?”

“I want you to be happy.” He searched her eyes and his expression changed. He looked troubled. “Do you remember your wedding feast? When I looked into your eyes in Hebron, my stomach dropped to my feet. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Is that why you left so quickly?”

“Why else?” He put his arms around her.

She put her hands against his chest. She knew she should say something to stop him. She should be like Abigail and make him aware of the sin he was about to commit. But her resolve weakened when she felt his heart pounding faster and harder than her own. He wanted her.
I’ll let him kiss me once, just once, and then I’ll say something to stop him. I’ll have his kiss to remember. Just one.

When his mouth took hers, Bathsheba felt herself being pulled down with him into a vortex of desire. His fingers raked through her hair. He moaned her name, and the words of warning died in her throat. As her body caught fire, she clung to him and didn’t say a word.

She knew that if she did, David would remember himself and send her home where she belonged.

* * *