Harvest of Rubies (39 page)

I lifted a hand to my temple. “Yes, I did. He had asked us both, but you were gone, and I did not wish to wait. I am sorry, I did not realize how serious an infraction I was committing.”

“You visited a single man alone? Without permission? Without even a maid for the sake of modesty? Many noblemen in Persia would set aside a wife for less provocation than this. You seem to have a great fondness for the cupbearer.”

“He’s like a father to me!”

“So you claim, but how should I know? At every turn you give me reason to distrust you. Which is why I determined to leave you. That morning I sent both the king and queen a
request for separate rooms. Or permission to leave the palace altogether.”

“I know.” But I had not known my visit to Nehemiah had instigated his desire to leave. My transformation from commoner to nobility had been too abrupt. I had yet to internalize the fact that the rules that applied to my life had now changed drastically.

“You only know thus far, and have conjectured the rest. Erroneously, I might add. The truth is that I felt as hard a knock upon my head on that day as you suffered at Teispes’s hands. When I walked into that glade and saw his knife at your breast, my blood ran cold. In those protracted moments of deadly danger, I came upon a few startling discoveries. I realized that I might be furious with you. I might resent some of your actions. But I also was not prepared to lose you.

“I told you as I carried you home that I do not know what to do with you. The evidence of reason will not permit me to trust you without reserve. Yet my heart refuses to believe the worst of you. I am at a quandary, as you can see—divided within myself. I know this much. I will not let you go. You are remaining with me, and I with you, and it has nothing to do with guilt or duty.”

“You wish to remain with me?” I exclaimed with astonishment. I sifted through his words, trying to understand him. I could not keep the sardonic edge from my voice as I said, “You want me against your better judgment?”

His narrow smile matched the edge in my voice. “I want you enough to take a chance. I know you want
me
. You told me as much.”

I did not bother to refute him. He would no doubt laugh in my face. Thus far, his strange courtship was more like a collection of sarcastic accusations than a declaration of sentiment.
He had said nothing of love, nor was he offering trust. And yet, somewhere inside, my beaten-down heart began jumping in jubilation. He wanted me! He wanted
me!

With as much caution as my imprudent soul was capable of practicing in that moment, I said, “Without trust, we shall unravel at the first test that comes our way.” Darius turned his perfect profile to me. His nose, straight as an arrow, flared with checked emotion. “It is the best I can offer you, Sarah.”

Not long ago, I expected him to desert me. Whatever his terms, they exceeded my expectations. I jerked my head into an awkward nod, signifying my agreement.

He gave the ghost of a sigh. “One condition. I want your promise that you will speak to me when trouble springs up between us. No more running away. No more unescorted visits to men. No more secrets. We will discuss our differences. You must tell me what goes on in that head of yours; I cannot forever try to guess.”

I shifted on my seat. “I will promise if you make
me
a promise. Promise me you will be reasonable when I make a request of you.”

“I make no such promise, for I know your concept of
reasonable
, and it is most unreasonable.”

I swallowed a smile. “I shall make a bargain with you, my lord. I will play you a game of backgammon, and the winner shall have his promise. What say you?”

Darius leaned forward. “Done.”

I was more than proficient at the game. Being familiar with the board, I no longer had need of counting the points. I could see in my mind’s eye where each roll of the dice would land me. I won thrice in a row before Darius began to crush me. He had prodigious luck as well as sound strategy and rolled
more doubles in one game than I had rolled in three.

“I believe I get my way,” he said when he had thrashed me for the last time.

“How unusual.”

“Don’t prevaricate. Give me your word.”

“I give you my promise, my lord. No more secrets.”

We had supper alone in the apartment that night. The truce that he had wrought settled around us like a warm blanket. For the first time I was able to believe that he enjoyed my company. He liked being with me. He laughed with ease in my presence and asked my opinion on matters of importance without condescension.

We were trying a pistachio cake sweetened with honey, a new recipe concocted by the royal chefs, when our supper was interrupted by the arrival of a dust-covered messenger.

“It’s from my father,” Darius said as he studied the missive.

“Is all well?”

“Yes. But I need to attend to a few urgent matters. It will take several hours. Don’t wait for me.”

I was relieved as well as disappointed at his departure. So much had happened in the span of short hours. I could scarcely enter into the reality of my husband’s changed feelings toward me. It occurred to me that I owed Teispes a debt of gratitude. It was the sight of his knife pressed against my chest that had caused Darius to change his mind about me. Darkness had its role on this earth.

My prayers overflowed with thanksgiving that evening. I thought of God’s orchestration of events and the unlikely outcome at the end of so many strange turns and twists in recent months. I did not understand His ways. But with each passing day I grew to trust them. I thought of the words I had once spoken to Nehemiah—that I trusted his ability to make mistakes
more than God’s ability to make His plans succeed. How little I knew of God’s power, and even less of His love if I thought human sin and error could override His ultimate plans.

When it came time to retire, I decided to give Darius the one gift I could: his bed. I snuggled under the covers of the mattress in the diminutive alcove, which he occupied when I was in the room, wanting him to have the comfort of a bed for the night. I wished fervently to be a good wife to my husband. If I could not admit to loving him, I could at least show my tenderness in caring for his small needs.

I was almost asleep when he returned. To my amazement, he lifted the covers and slipped next to me. I sat bolt upright. “What are you doing?” I squeaked.

“I’m joining you in bed.”

It dawned on me that he perceived my presence in his bed as an overt invitation. I must have appeared as brazen as the courtesan I had once claimed to be. “You think I came here to … you think I was trying to … Great heavens above! I was just trying to get you to sleep in your own bed.”

“I am sleeping in my own bed.”

“Fine.” I rolled out of the other side of the mattress and stomped off to the ornate bed. Pulling the blanket down with jerky motions, I stepped back and bumped into a solid mass. Whipping around with a gasp, I found myself facing a wall of muscle.

“My lord?”

“My name is Darius. You could try using it.”

I crossed my arms. The memory of the last time I had used his name snuck up the coils of memory, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. “No I could not. You told me yourself not to be familiar.”

Darius wrapped his hands around my arms, uncrossing
them and pulling me forward in one smooth motion. “Lesson number one: you’re talking too much.”

He pulled harder, propelling me into his embrace. Without warning, his lips descended over mine. My eyes widened.

“Lesson number two,” he murmured when he lifted his head. “Close your eyes when I kiss you.” He wrapped one hand about my waist and fitted me to his length. With featherlight kisses, he closed my eyes before kissing me on the lips again.

“Lesson number three,” he said when he raised his head, his voice husky. “Kiss me back. Like this. And this.”

I barely remembered how to breathe when he stopped. “How many lessons are there?” I asked, my voice a thread.

He laughed, deep in his throat. “I’ll show you if you say my name.”

“Darius,” I whispered obediently. It wasn’t the last time I uttered it that night.

I woke up to the warbling of sparrows at sunrise. Darius slept next to me, his sprawled body taking up most of the bed. The pale rays of the morning light illuminated his face. In sleep, he lacked the predatory edge that normally stamped his features. His lips, carved and long, held no hardness. I thought of their touch the night before and turned to slip out of bed, embarrassed by my own ruminations.

A hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me back. “Where do you think you’re going? You must ask my permission to leave, did you not know?”

I snorted with astonishment. “No.”

He nodded. “It’s the truth. In the normal course of things, when Damaspia hasn’t had her interfering fingers in one’s
living arrangements, you would be called to my apartments. And you would stay there until I dismissed you.”

I pulled the sheets higher around me. “You plan to be a tyrannical husband, I see.”

Darius fluffed two pillows behind him and sat up. “I’m merely informing you of aristocratic propriety.”

My mouth grew dry as the joy of the enchanted hours we had shared dimmed. It was easy in the privacy of this tiny chamber to think of him as
my
husband. But a day would come, and perhaps soon, when I would have to learn to share him with others. I would come and go to him at his whim, in a long line of other women.

“What is it? You look sad, of a sudden.”

I shook my head.

“You promised not to keep secrets from me.”

“This is no secret. It’s a private thought. You can’t expect me to share every thought that enters my head.”

“I do expect it. And I won the right if you recall. Now tell me why my bride is sorrowful. You can leave my bed without my permission if it irks you so. Go as you please. I care not.”

I attempted a smile. “That is generous of you.”

“But?”

How he pressed to have more of me. For years, I had been guilty, with alarming frequency, of opening my mouth and spilling my thoughts without proper consideration. Feelings were another matter. Those I guarded. Now here was the person whose opinion meant more to me than any other, and he was not satisfied with a pleasing shell. He wanted the revelation of my whole soul, be it clean and good, or weak and mired in imperfection. I could not bear to show him my insecure heart and have it rebuffed, have it ridiculed.

Yet I knew what the Lord would want from me. He who
wished for truth in my inmost being would want me to show myself as I was to my husband. I was to rest in His forgiveness and acceptance no matter what Darius thought of me.

I opened my mouth, and closed it when no words came out. Clearing my throat, I forced my voice into obedience. “I was thinking of how life will change in time. You will marry again. I will have to learn to share you.”

D
arius shrugged. “I am not set on marrying again. I was traumatized the first time.”

I shoved him in the shoulder. He grasped my wrists and pulled me against him. “I am in earnest. I don’t intend to marry another.”

I frowned. “Like Artaxerxes, you mean? Marry one woman, and have the rest as concubines?”

He sighed and released me. His forehead grew knotted in thought.

“I intended no complaint, my lord,” I said, anxious that I had displeased him. “These are just the ravings of my mind. You see how bothersome they are, and useless? Now perhaps you won’t insist on having a share of them.”

He remained silent. I licked my lips. “I grew up with a father who could afford but one wife. There were no concubines in our home. I am not accustomed to such luxury. As it is, I am blessed—”

Darius stopped the deluge of my words with a kiss so passionate I forgot what I was talking about. He kissed me until I forgot the whole world. He wove a net of desire about me so thick that I doubt I would have remembered my own name, except that he kept repeating it. There was a desperation in the way he made love to me that morning. He clung to me as one trying to stamp out the shadow of old monsters. I clung back; I had my own monsters to forget.