Abigail (19 page)

“Taste and see that Adonai is good,” he said, his smile gentle, his dark eyes searching hers.

She accepted the bread, her arm tingling when her fingers brushed his in the exchange. She lifted the bread to her lips and ate, barely aware of the taste or of the sounds of feasting, laughter, and music floating around them.

“I don’t have much to offer you here”—he waved a hand encompassing the area around them—“but what I have is yours.” He bit off a large chunk of the flat bread and chewed, silently assessing her.

She glanced around them. “There are more women here than I expected. Does that make it hard for you . . . when the king . . . when he—”

“When Saul tracks me down and threatens my life?”

She nodded, wishing she hadn’t brought up such a topic on this day.

He looked beyond her, and a cloud covered his expression for the briefest moment, then lifted. “The women help keep the men calm,” he said at last, as though no other explanation was needed. “They are a burden, without question.” He turned to her then, caught her hand in his, and smiled. “But a burden worth the trouble.” He winked, making her pulse quicken.

She returned his smile, not sure how to take his answer. But of course, the women would slow the men down in the event they had to run. “I hope so, my lord.” She did not wish to add to David’s troubles, but she was here now and determined to make the best of the arrangements.

Movement caught her eye and she glanced to her right, following David’s gaze. She glimpsed a young woman at the edges of the camp avoiding the festivities, staring at David, her beautiful face wreathed in a frown. Ahinoam. Undoubtedly.

She looked at David, watched his brow furrow and the lines tighten along his mouth. Would he introduce them to each other here? Now? The thought troubled her for the briefest moment, but in the next instant he turned to her, stood, and pulled her to him. “It’s time,” he whispered. “Come.” With one hand on the small of her back, he ushered her ahead of him, away from the fire pit where the dancing and music continued and into the shadowed lamplight of a cave. The slight pressure of his touch sent tingling warmth through her.

After several winding turns, the cave opened into a larger area where several clay lamps dispelled the closed-in feeling. A bed of soft skins lay in one corner, and a small loom and baskets of wool lay propped against a limestone wall in another.

“We normally share the area with some of my advisors, but tonight it belongs just to us.” He turned her to face him, his smile boyish and carefree. “I’m glad you came.”

“As am I.” She shivered as he traced a finger along her cheek, the image of the other woman slowly slipping from her mind.

He bent forward to kiss her. “Are you?” He kissed her again, his lips lingering this time.

“Of course.” She smiled, tempted to offer him a teasing quip, but she quickly squelched the thought, not sure she should take the risk. Nabal would have misunderstood and probably slapped her.

He held her at arm’s length, his eyes searching, probing. “You look worried.” He sounded troubled and the slightest bit annoyed.

“Do I? I don’t mean to be, it’s just . . .” She looked over his shoulder as he toyed with the edge of her veil. “It’s all happened so fast.” Was his other wife fearful of him, or did he just find the fears of women irritating?

He took a step back, studying her. “Would you prefer to wait? If I offend you—”

“You don’t offend me.” Heat filled her cheeks that the conversation had turned so intimate. “I want to . . . I . . . it’s just . . . I don’t exactly know you.” She looked at him then, saw the smile in his eyes.

“Of course not. But we have years to remedy that.” He ran gentle hands up and down her arms, then cupped them around her face and kissed her again. “You have nothing to fear from me, Abigail.” He pulled back, watching her as he smoothly tugged the veil from her head, then one by one released the seven combs that held her hair back, allowing her thick tresses to tumble to her shoulders. When the last one dropped to the earth at their feet, he tenderly entwined his fingers through the silken strands of her hair. “Let me show you my love,” he whispered, his breath soft against her ear.

She nodded, afraid to trust her voice, her heart beating an erratic rhythm. She worked to undo the knot in the belt at her waist, then stilled as his hands covered hers.

“You’re trembling.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” He placed her hands at her sides and undid the knot, then slipped the robe from her shoulders. He tilted her chin so she would look at him again, his gaze searching.

“Your first husband—were you afraid of him?” His obvious concern warmed her heart. She nodded. “Did he give you reason to be?”

“Yes.” She held his gaze, allowing him a glimpse into her soul, trusting him more than she expected she would.

“And yet you defended him.”

“I meant to protect the others, and you.”

“You mean, you meant to protect the others from me.” Silence followed, and she saw mingled fire and regret in his eyes. “You should have let me kill him.”

“I couldn’t. I—”

“No, you are right. Yahweh had a better plan.” He smiled then and turned his head to one side to get a better look at her. “You can trust me, Abigail,” he said. “I will never hurt you.”

She searched his face and felt her heart yearning for him. “I want to believe you.” She lifted her hands and wound them around his neck, drawing herself into his embrace.

“Believe me, beloved.” The fire of longing smoldered in his dark eyes as he bent to kiss her again. “I always keep my promises.”

21

David half listened to his men as they discussed the latest sighting of Saul and argued over what to do next. He scooped porridge with a piece of flat bread from the common bowl he shared with his men, then tossed it into his mouth. His gaze traveled to Abigail, her busy hands refilling empty plates and replacing fresh skins of water at each man’s side. She hummed a soft tune, and when she glanced at him, a smile lit her eyes. He winked at her in return, silently thanking Yahweh for her presence in the camp and in his life. Somehow she had managed to bring peace to the place in the few weeks she’d been here. Even Ahinoam seemed to settle into an unexpected
sort of acceptance. Some of the time.

He looked over the area as he sat back and licked the last drops of stew from his mouth, his gaze settling on Abigail’s maid Zahara. That one troubled him. Though Abigail seemed to think the girl was loyal, he had his doubts. Perhaps if they married her off, the wild look he glimpsed now and then would disappear. But the fact that she was a foreigner kept him from suggesting it to Abigail. That, and the uneasy feeling she gave him. Something in the way she watched the distant hills, as though she intended to run off at the first chance. Could she have been one of Saul’s spies? Abigail had indicated that Nabal himself had conspired with the Ziphites against him, so why not this foreigner?

She glanced in his direction, and a blush filled her cheeks. She’d caught his perusal. Did she think he was interested in her himself? He looked away, turning his attention back to his advisors to focus on their discussion.

“The scouts’ report is clear, David. Saul has made camp beside the road on the hill of Hakilah facing Jeshimon. What would you have us do? He’s too close.” Joab sipped from his water skin and grimaced. “What I wouldn’t give for a good skin of wine.”

His comment was met with approval around the circle of his closest advisors. Abigail’s store of wine remained on Nabal’s estate, and now was not the time to go looking for it. He could use a bit of mind-numbing drink himself right now. But not with Saul on his heels.

“I will go down to Saul and see for myself.” He looked at the thirty men who had proven the most valiant and loyal, then stood. He pointed to a newcomer, Ahimelech the Hittite, and four other men, Abishai, Joab, Benaiah, and Asahel. “Come.” He checked the sword at his side and left the group with the five men following.

They passed the wives of his advisors sitting in a separate group feeding their children. He would have moved on without a backward glance but couldn’t help the desire for another glimpse of Abigail. If the scouts’ reports were true and he found Saul this night, he might not return in safety.

The thought stopped him at the edge of the women’s circle.

He turned, searching for Abigail among them. She noticed his gaze, jumped up, and came to him.

“There is trouble, my lord?” She was already too good at reading his expressions.

He nodded. “Don’t look for me tonight.”

Disappointment flickered in her eyes for the slightest moment, but her reassuring touch on his arm and warm smile told him she understood. “I will pray unceasingly for Yahweh’s protection for you,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to reach his ear.

He bent closer, tugged her to him, and kissed her soundly, not caring who witnessed his affection. “Thank you.” He smiled as he released her. “I will return.”

“As I would expect, my lord.”

He moved away with a flicker of guilt that he should bid farewell to Ahinoam. Irritated with his own sense of responsibility, he glanced back at the group of women and caught her looking at him. He motioned her forward, his guilt increasing at the look of relief on her face.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Don’t wait for me tonight. I won’t be back until morning.” He kissed her then, a soft touch to her lips. He was finding the desire he once had for her waning despite his effort to treat his wives as equals. Soon he might feel the same toward them both, though he sensed that wasn’t true. Abigail was new and exciting and was nothing like Ahinoam, and he couldn’t imagine himself ever growing tired of her.

Ahinoam stepped back as he released her, and he moved away from the women to join his men, his mind shifting to the task at hand. Saul was out there, and they needed to find him and put an end to this.

But something told him the end was still a long time coming.

Abigail watched David stride down the path leading to the winding road that wove among the wilderness hills until he was a mere speck in her eyes. Her interest in and deep concern for him still took her by surprise. The feeling had been nonexistent in her marriage to Nabal. Was this love?

Her mother often spoke of her father in affectionate terms and had assured Abigail that such feelings came after the marriage—that beforehand a wife could not be expected to even know her husband, much less care for him. With Nabal there was too much fear for such feelings to exist, too much disrespect and disdain. But David . . .

“Don’t expect him to keep you his favorite.” The voice coming from behind startled her. She turned to look into Ahinoam’s scowling face. “When we first wed, he treated me the way he treats you now. Give him a few months, or perhaps if you’re fortunate, a year or two, but soon he’ll meet someone new, and then you’ll be little more to him than an occasional concubine.” The words carried a brittle edge.

A handful of responses, unkind, even damaging, flew to her thoughts, but she squelched each one in turn. The haunting truth of it was that Ahinoam was probably right. When David took the throne as king, other women would vie for his affection, and when war did not conquer their enemies, peace treaties would be linked to marriage contracts. She’d always known it, but the reminder so soon after her marriage left her unsettled, uncertain, and suddenly wondering if she’d made the right decision.

“I’m sure you are right, Ahinoam. David will one day be king, and kings have many wives. We must remember that and support each other. You and I have the unique privilege of knowing David now during the waiting years. We may not be his favorites someday, but we will share memories the others will have missed.” The unsettled feeling grew, a heavy weight in her middle, despite her brave words. Sharing David with one other wife would be hard enough, but more than one? How would she bear it?

Her thoughts churning, she forced her mind back to Ahinoam and offered her what she hoped was a kind smile to put her rival’s mind at ease. She would need this woman to befriend her in days to come. Somehow she must learn to share David with her and help her to see that she was not Ahinoam’s enemy. “I would be your friend, Ahinoam, if you will have me.”

Ahinoam’s gaze met hers, and Abigail caught a glimpse of her thoughts—a mix of anger and fear. At last Ahinoam shook her head, her scowl deepening. “You are only accepted because your family got in good with David, but don’t forget, I’m the first wife here. Don’t go trying to usurp my place.” She took two steps back and crossed her arms. “If you want my
friendship
”—the word came out tinged in sarcasm—“give me my husband. Your bridal week is up; it is time you share him.” She turned and stalked off, leaving Abigail staring after her.