A Stray Drop of Blood (23 page)

Andrew silenced her by capturing her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers. He drew away a fraction, enough to look into her wide eyes. “He is not my master. I will not cater to him.” He covered her mouth with his again, and this time the kiss was not just to stop her from speaking, but to engage her.

For a moment, Abigail was too surprised and confused to know how she
should
respond, so she did not. In that heartbeat, a battle raged within her. She knew that, as Jason’s, she should push Andrew away. But in her heart, was she not more Andrew’s than Jason’s? To what should she be true, the claim that Jason never should have made, or the one forged within her?

Andrew’s embrace grew insistent enough that she responded without thought. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss, waiting for either guilt or passion to take her over. Neither did. She was too unwilling for anything but complacency. His kiss was enjoyable, but she kept comparing it to Jason’s too much to lose herself in it.

Andrew, apparently, had no such distractions. She knew very well that he was not thinking this through, otherwise he never would have pulled her down to the pillows, never would have let his hand travel down her torso to rest on her hip. His touch, a feather light brush and nothing more, sent a tendril of pleasure curling up her spine. It was that which made her realize she had to put a stop to this. If she did not do so now, she may not, and he would hate them both.

It was not until he took his mouth from hers and set it roaming over her jaw that she could manage to speak. Even then, she could only croak out, “Andrew!”

But that was all it took to push him back into sanity. He retreated a few feet, his eyes bright with shame and apology. “I . . .” He shook his head. “I am sorry, Abigail. I should not–forgive me.”

He pushed himself up and fled the room. And left her lying where he had put her, tears burning her eyes and hands gripping the blanket beneath her.

She had not thought it possible that she sink further, but here she was. Did she have
any
virtue left? If so, she could not find it within herself. All she saw there was a pitiful creature unable to resist a temptation because of its sin, but rather only because of its consequences. She saw a woman undeserving of respect or love.

Even Andrew had proven himself as interested in her body as he was in
her
. Had he not mentioned before that he was bothered by the thought of her being in Jason’s arms? Did he ever say he was bothered by the pain she must be going through? No. It dismayed him that she was not his. Even with Andrew, it had become about possession.

Perhaps she was no more than that, in the end. Perhaps she had forfeited any other worth when she went to Jason’s bed, or perhaps she never had any to begin with. Woman was created to be a companion for man, after all. Women were raised to be naught but a wife, a mother. She was not even suited for that, so what did that leave her? A future as a man’s consort, not given the dignity of marriage, only a step above a harlot. She closed her eyes against the tears, glad her mother was not there to see what she had become. Wishing she could be blind to it, as well.

She stayed in that same position for many long minutes, then stirred herself and stood. Andrew’s touch and kiss had ignited a desire in her, one that had grown accustomed to being sated. Why should she bother denying any longer that she enjoyed the touch of a man? It seemed to be what she had been made for anyway, so she might as well.

Stooping before her trunk, she moved the lamp to the floor and opened it. She pulled out the red garment that she had refused to wear in front of Jason’s friends, some complementing accessories, then closed the lid once more and replaced the light. She extinguished the flame, tucked her possessions under her arm, and slipped soundlessly out of her room, down the hall, and into Jason’s chamber.

It only took her a minute to change out of her everyday tunic and into the soft, sheer fabric that fell over her curves seductively. She fastened a necklace around her neck, brushed out her hair, and surveyed herself in the polished brass of the mirror.

A stranger looked back at her. A very beautiful, very sensual stranger with eyes turned to warm cinnamon thanks to the scarlet cloth, hair flowing down her back in a river of jet, and a body slender even in its curves. She closed her eyes against the image and turned to the soft bed. She would wait there for her master to return.

~*~

Jason bade farewell to his friends with a laugh, wondering if Menelaus would make it back to his quarters in one piece. The man was swaying considerably, the wine of the evening taking its toll. But Titus had put a supporting arm around him, so the others had decided to go on their own ways. Jason headed back to his father’s house, the quiet of the still night encircling him. An edge of dissatisfaction cut through his mind. He knew that Lentulus was headed for a woman to take away his own hunger, and Jason briefly considered finding one himself.

But no, if he decided he was in that great a need, he would simply go to Abigail. She was more beautiful than any of the women whose doors would be open, far healthier, and what she lacked in experience she made up for with that sweet modesty. His friends may say he was too consumed by her, but he could not agree–they were all that preoccupied with the fairer sex, he just happened to have one woman who comprised all he needed instead of having to find a new one each night. That made him fortunate, not consumed.

He approached the house as quietly as possible, let himself in, and headed for his room. He could see from under the door that a lamp was lit inside. Curious, he stepped in and shut the door behind him.

The scarlet of her dress immediately caught his eye. She had apparently been asleep and was just blinking awake, stretching in a way that made him forget he had been tired at all. “Abigail? Did you forget that you did not need to wait for me?”

Giving him a sleepy, simmering smile that made his blood race, she moved gracefully from the bed in a way he imagined Venus may have done. “I did not forget.” She slid her hands up his chest and eased against him, pulling his head down so that her lips could caress his.

Had he just been thinking about how much he liked her modesty? That was strange, because at that moment, nothing had ever pleased him as much as her forwardness. His arms came around her, and he reveled in the joy that came from returning
her
kiss instead of forcing her to return his. He felt his conscious thought slipping away as her mouth moved down his neck. He barely even noticed when she led him to the bed. He was in a daze when she helped him from his clothes and gave him the attention he had been demanding for the past three months. Even so, he knew very well he would remember this night for the rest of his life.

Chapter Sixteen

Ester lounged on her chaise, laughing with Abigail over the comedy they had just read together. Over the past weeks she had been watching her young friend change, and it showed now in the light in her eyes. The play they were reading was not quite indecent, but about as close as it could get and still make it past Cleopas’s censure. In the past, the girl would have flushed even as she read some of the lines. Today, she laughed at them with the appreciation of a woman who was familiar enough with the world to find the humor in it.

Ester was not certain what she thought of this new face of Abigail. She missed the girl that was afraid to leave childhood, but at the same time, she liked the woman that was suddenly able to talk as an equal on subjects the child had just listened to silently. But mostly, Ester wondered what had happened in the past three weeks to make that possible when the previous three months had only seemed to tire Abigail without giving her any benefit. It took no genius to realize it had something to do with her relationship with Jason. But exactly how
that
was going, Ester was afraid to ask. Possibly because, yet again, she was not sure of her own thoughts.

What she truly wanted was for everyone involved to be happy; but could that happen? She would personally be satisfied if her son married Abigail, but whether that would achieve the desired results for the two of them was something she was not comfortable speculating on just yet.

Apparently, though, she had been doing just that, for Abigail’s laughter drew her from her reverie, and she smiled at getting caught in another world. “I am sorry, my child. Did I miss something?”

“
No, Mistress. Nothing of importance. Do you wish anything?”

“
Nothing I know how to ask for. You have changed lately.”

She expected Abigail to give a vague reply, or perhaps evade the statement altogether. Instead, the younger met her eyes. “Yes, I suppose so. I have come to realize your son is not quite as horrible as I had wished to make him. Of course, Andrew helped me come to that conclusion by refusing to speak to me for the past fortnight.”

The news was shocking, and the dry tone of voice unfamiliar. “Andrew? But why?”

Abigail’s smile was somewhat reassuring. “Oh, I think he is just frustrated with the situation. And to keep from revealing how much, he has been avoiding it.” Abigail covered Ester’s hand with hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It is all right, Mistress. It will smooth out soon enough.”

Ester nodded, not fully convinced but willing to let it pass. Especially since she saw a familiar servant coming toward the house from the direction of the general and Julia’s house. “Is that Laertus?”

~*~

When the boy neared the house, Abigail stood and called down from the rooftop. “Good day, Laertus.”

The boy halted far enough away that he could look up and see her clearly. “Abigail, it is Elizabeth. She is terribly ill, and she has been asking for you. She will let no one else near her. The mistress knows not what to do to, so she sent me to fetch you. Can you come?”

Abigail looked to Ester, who was quick to jump up. “Of course! I will go with you, Abigail, and comfort Julia. I am sure she is upset; she is really quite fond of Elizabeth.”

Abigail nodded and dashed down, then inside to grab a few things for the walk. They were on their way in just a few minutes. “Do you know what is wrong with her?” Abigail questioned Laertus as they walked.

The slave shook his head. “She had gone into the markets to fetch something for the mistress. She must have fallen ill there. Someone carried her back to the house but then just left her on the doorstep. She was unconscious and has been in terrible pain ever since she awoke. She has been retching violently, but she will not let us attend her.”

She picked up her pace. Surely now, when she and Elizabeth had finally reached that pinnacle of openness that made them true friends, Jehovah would not take her confidant through illness.

Except that he would. He had taken her parents, had he not?

When they entered the general’s house, Laertus took Ester to Julia while Abigail sped straight for her friend’s small chamber. She knocked lightly on the door but did not wait for permission to enter. When she stepped inside, the first thing her eyes fell on was Elizabeth.

The young woman was as pale as the moon, frightened eyes open and glazed over with pain. Perspiration stood out on her forehead, and her hands shook. She had her knees drawn up toward her chest, telling Abigail it was her stomach in pain. The room smelled overwhelmingly of vomit.

“
Abigail!” Tears gathered in Elizabeth’s eyes and spilled over. She held out a wavering hand, which Abigail grasped.

She settled carefully beside her, looking down into her ashen face. “My friend, I came as soon as they sent for me. What is it?”

Elizabeth’s answer was to roll slightly to the side, revealing a dark stain of blood under her. Abigail did not have to have any experience in this sort of thing to know what had happened. “Oh, Elizabeth. You were with child.”

Elizabeth gave a small nod. “They cannot know.” Agony saturated her voice.

“
They would think it was Cleon’s. Let them attend you.”

But Elizabeth just shook her head. “I would have begun to show if it were Cleon’s. Abigail.” She gripping her hand harder and struggled to sit up. Abigail put a restraining hand on her shoulder to keep her down. Elizabeth relented with a groan. “Abigail, I did this on purpose.” Her voice broke, the tears streaming faster now. “I could not have a child.”

Abigail gaped. “But–how? Elizabeth, even I have heard of how this works. The only way to–to
be rid
of an unwanted child is to wait until you are far enough along to induce labor.”

“
I could not wait that long,” Elizabeth declared fervently, eyes ablaze. “It could not have been Cleon’s, and if anyone found out, I would be killed. Julia would see to it. Or even if not, the general would not want me if I were large with child. I could not be pregnant, Abigail. I could not.”

Abigail could see that saying anything to the contrary would not only be irrelevant, but unheard. She just smoothed her friend’s hair away from her head and waited for her to go on.

“
I went to my mother,” Elizabeth continued in a muted voice. “I knew that if there were a way, she would know it. She did not want to help me, but she saw as I did that I had no choice. She gave me the poison. It could kill me too, but it is a risk worth taking.” She clenched her teeth, obviously in pain. “I am dead otherwise. I had nothing to lose.”