Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (84 page)

He leaned his brow against hers. Their noses touched. “When this is over—”

She placed her fingertips against his lips. An unexpected pleasure at her simple gesture rocked him back on his heels, silencing the promise of love clinging to his tongue.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
t had taken two days for the elders to be gathered, which had given Mira time to explore more of the small city. The only place she hadn't seen was the inside of the temple. According to Ari it was much smaller and built of humbler means than the one in Jerusalem. The adoration in his eyes when he spoke of the temple affirmed her decision to keep her distance from him.

While Ari spent his time preparing for their journey, she visited the market with Anna and Ari's sister. It contained breads and fruits she had never before seen. Pottery with intricate artwork. Cloth fit for a queen, veils that would trail behind her in the dust made of the finest fabrics with hand embroidered designs, such that a farmer's daughter like her would never have occasion to wear. The detailed craftsmanship of items amazed her. All made by the people of Manna.

Several rocks slid down the cliff. She gripped the donkey's mane and refocused her efforts on staying on the narrow path.

They had traveled over the mountains along the passes for the past three days instead of through the tunnels, the large sea their constant companion. With the steep, unstable terrain, she often longed to travel in the valley below. She understood traveling in the open plain would place their entourage in greater danger and so she pushed her fear aside.

The donkey in front of her struggled to climb a slight incline. The woman on its back swayed, and Mira held her breath until the beast found its footing and moved along. She would not like to see anyone perish. The only true comfort she had during their journey was that Ari's brothers, as well as over half of the occupants of Manna, men, women and children traveled with them. According to Anna, the elders thought it best to hide among travelers, and with the great Jubilee only days away, what better excuse.

The woman in front of her disappeared as she descended. The path widened, opening into a valley. Mira glanced over her shoulder and took one last look at the rugged hills. If only she could see Manna one last time. To brand it in her memory. She would miss it.

Ari never asked her to keep its secret, but she knew she would take it to her death. Never would she be able to share the majestic fortress with her mother or her father. Instead, she would create a new song on the lyre.

“You look tired.” Lydia maneuvered her donkey next to Mira's.

“Although I am grateful to not be walking, I am weary from holding so tightly,” Mira responded.

Ari's sister laughed. “You are not used to riding?”

“The occasion rarely occurs. My father owns several donkeys, but whenever we ventured to Hebron, it was not far. There was no need to ride.”

“I see. You should have told my brother.”

He had enough on his mind. She did not wish to add to his worries. “What could he have done? I would only slow us down by walking.”

“My brother, he loves you.”

Mira grappled for her balance as she flung her gaze to Ari's young sister. “What makes you speak such nonsense, Lydia?”

“Anyone with eyes can see the way he looks at you.” She smiled. “Besides, I heard him speaking with my father. Not about love. Men do not speak of such things.”

“It does not matter.” She sighed. Her fingers ached with the effort to hold her seat. “As much as I had hoped...there can never be a match between us.”

“Why ever not?” Lydia asked.

Once, Mira thought things were as simple as just believing, but now she knew better. Ari's hopes and dreams of resuming his temple duties could never be realized if they were to become man and wife.

“It is not possible, Lydia.” She firmed her lips and kept her eyes on the tunic directly in front of her. Thankfully, Lydia had taken the hint and had not said another word. Having his sister mention the possibility of Ari's love tore a chasm in her chest, especially knowing they could never be together.

She sought his position ahead of her. His body swayed back and forth with the motion of the donkey, Joash sat in front of him. Ari bent his head whenever the child spoke. At times he would point to an object in the distance. He was ever the teacher and would make a wonderful father someday. Just not the father of the children she had desired.

Ari touched his lips to the child's locks. Even if Ari did not wish to return to his temple duties, how could he walk away from Joash? He cared for him deeply. Surely he would want to stay near and keep watch over him.

Green spiked hedges appeared. An open clearing near a small spring rose before her eyes.

“This will be our last night of travel. Tomorrow we reach Jerusalem,” Lydia told her as the riders ahead of them began to dismount.

“You have traveled this path many times?”

“Of course. We visited Ari quite often when he lived there.”

“Come.” Lydia slid from her donkey's back. “We must help ready the evening meal while the men set up camp.”

Mira looked to the ground, and although the drop was not overly far, it was far enough. Before she could protest or garner up her courage, Ari was there lifting her down. Her breath caught, and her heart swelled. If she had been any other woman, other than her father's daughter, her father's disfigured daughter, she would take everything Ari's eyes promised. But she was not any other woman. She would be expected to marry a man who would take care of her father's land—as Ari had done for the past several years—and Ari did not belong in the wilderness tending sheep and pruning vines.

“You are well?” he asked, massaging her fingers.

“I am well,” she responded. He should not pity her. Mira pulled her hand from his, and sidestepped. “I must tend my duties.” She bowed her head and walked away.

* * *

She scurried away like a frightened hare, although he did not know what he had done or said to scare her. He pulled on the donkey's lead and dragged him over to a corral built long ago by his grandfather. He removed the blankets and untied the rolled mats. Ari carried them to where they would make their camp.

If he had his way they would have pushed on to Jerusalem, especially since the city was only mere miles away. But he had to send word to Jehoiada, and he would attend Jehoiada himself, the only problem was that he would have to leave Mira and Joash in the care of his kin. The idea did not sit well with him, but he really did not have a choice. Jehoiada would not trust words from another's lips.

He searched for his father and Jesse but could not find them. Instead he found Elam, who was preparing an offering. “Uncle, I must enter Jerusalem.”

“You worry for the girl?” Elam rose, his robes flowed around his ankles. His face was hard like stone, and his eyes betrayed no emotion.

Wariness rode across Ari's shoulders and he gripped the back of his neck. “My concern lies with Joash and Mira, yes?”

“They will be well cared for,” Elam said.

“My thanks.” Ari bowed. “If anything should happen to me...if I do not return...”

Elam laid a hand on his shoulder. “My brother's son, have faith. Contact Jehoiada. If you do not return to us, I will send us out in groups of seven. Your woman and the child will be amongst us. I will keep vigilance, and your brothers and cousins will guard them with their lives.”

Ari kissed his uncle's cheeks. “My thanks.”

“All will be well, Ariel. You will see.”

God's plans were mightier than man's, even that of Queen Athaliah. If ever he needed to trust God, it was now. He shook off the uneasiness pricking his nape.

He found Mira near the fire once again cooking cakes. “I see my mother has entrusted you with our cakes.”

She jerked her head toward him. “I did not think you had noticed the burned cake.”

“I had not. It was only later when Jesse had asked me how I could have stomached the taste.” He smiled. “Imagine his surprise when I told him it had tasted of the sweetest of honey.”

She giggled.

“I do not lie,” he added.

He knelt beside her. He wanted to take her hand but feared she would once again shy from him. He did not wish to make the cakes if she were to run away. “Mira, I must enter Jerusalem this night.”

“Oh,” she said. “When will we leave?”

“It is only I that will go,” he said.

Shadows flickered into her golden eyes. “Alone?”

“Yes.”

“What if you are recognized?” She lifted her hand, placing it on his smooth cheek. The contact stopped the beat of his heart.

“It is a risk I must take,” he said, laying his hand upon hers. He turned his face and pressed his lips to the palm of her hand. The bustle of activity disappeared over the pounding of his life's blood in his ears. If he could, he would take her to wife this very moment, but he would wait out of respect for her father. “My brothers will guard you. I need you to stay with Joash. Help Tama watch over him. Can you do that for me?”

Her eyes widened in fear, but she nodded.

“Call on the name of your Lord God if you should need Him,” he breathed against her palm. “He is faithful. He will protect you. I know this here.” He cupped her hand within his and placed it over his heart. Her palm against his chest heated. It was as if she had branded him. “I,” he stammered. Words clung to his lips. “I will leave as the sun begins to descend. And I will return in the morning.”

The tips of her lashes brushed against the golden hue of her cheeks.

“If for some reason I do not return—” his words were interrupted as a small cry of distress passed her lips.

“You must not go alone,” she pleaded.

“I have no choice, Sh'mira.”

“Allow me to attend you.”

“No, you must help protect Joash. It will be up to you and Tama to return him to Jehoiada if I do not return. Do you understand?” He caught sight of his sister hovering in the distance. He motioned for her to finish the task of cooking cakes, and then he rose with Mira's hand trapped in his. “Come with me?”

She dug in her heels, and he believed she would refuse. He thanked the Lord when she moved her feet.

They walked a short distance, away from prying eyes and ears. Ari turned toward her. The curve of her lips drew his mouth to hers. He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth before resting his brow against hers.

“Mira.” He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “If anything happens while I'm gone, any of my family, Jesse especially, will take you to Jehoiada. He and Elam know how to enter the temple passages.”

“There must be some other way, Ari. You should not go alone.”

He pulled her back into his arms and hugged her. She trembled.

Her worry over his well-being set a smile on lips. It danced in his heart, leaving him filled with joy. He silently praised the Lord for bringing them together for he was beginning to think she was the perfect half to his whole. His intended helpmate.

If he ever doubted God's will, he would remember the touch of her lips, the thundering of her heart in tandem with his. If he ever doubted God's will, he would remember how much he wished to marry Sh'mira, daughter of a farmer. If he ever doubted God's will, he would remember just how much she worried over his safety.

Even though she had never said the words.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“W
hat is wrong with you?” Ari picked up a handful of desert and tossed it into the air. He sat on his rear looking up at the cantankerous donkey with his ears pinned back staring down at him.

“As if I did not have reservations of my own, you have to go and prove stubborn.”

The donkey's nostrils flared. His sharp squeal rent the cooling air.

“Fine.” Ari stood and pulled on the animal's reins. The beast brayed as he planted his backside into the ground. Ari rolled his eyes. “I should be halfway to Jerusalem. I'd much rather be sitting next to the fire watching Mira stew than fight with you, you stubborn donkey.”

The donkey pulled back his lips, baring his teeth. Ari had never heard of a donkey hissing, but this one was doing just that. And he didn't think the donkey was offended as much as to say that Ari was the one being a stubborn fool.

“I should have stayed with Joash and Mira.” It had taken every bit of faith to entrust them with his kin. Even after he had been firm in his decision, after all, he knew he was the only one for this particular mission. Jehoiada would believe no one else. Even then, Ari had still dragged his feet as he left the encampment.

Feeling Mira's eyes on his back had made it worse. He had known she stood at the edge of camp watching him go until she could see him no more. He had known because he kept glancing over his shoulder looking for any indication that he should stay.

And now he was here, fighting a losing battle with a beast that should be humble. Not full of pride.

He dropped the reins from his hand. “Well, if you will not move, I have no choice but to continue on without you.” Ari scratched the spot between the donkey's ears hoping a little affection would be enough to entice the animal to move. All he received for his efforts was a baring of teeth and a flattening of the ears.

“So be it,” Ari said as he headed in the direction of Jerusalem. “I hear the great spotted cat prowls the nights. You'll make a wonderful meal for her family.”

He kept walking, his heart heavy at the thought of leaving this defenseless beast to his own devices. “If the cougar does not get you, the birds will be ready to devour you come morning.”

Nothing.

“It would be in your best interest to at least follow along, you know. I will not make you carry me another step if that is what bothers you.” He sighed and turned around to face the donkey sitting in the sand. The beast twitched his ears. Ari crossed his arms over his chest knowing full well he would not be able to convince the donkey to move. He was as strong-minded as Mira. A vision of her behaving as the donkey lifted the corners of his mouth.

If she weren't as stubborn, would he care for her as much as he did? He would never know for she was as stubborn as they came, at least she had been until they had met up with his family. What had happened to his bold, courageous Mira? Had it something to do with his family? Or was it something he had done?

The donkey screeched, rising up on all fours he turned toward camp and hoofed at the ground.

Ari lifted his eyes into the distance. The sight of his father and Jesse, along with another man, approaching on horses, left his chest thundering in fear.

Had something happened?

Dust and sand kicked up as they halted their horses. Ari eyed the Philistine he recognized from the spring. His hand slid to the hilt of his sword.

“Let not your heart be troubled, my son.” His father slid from the horse. Jesse jumped to his feet, while the Philistine remained seated, staring down at Ari.

“You ride as if a great wind is nipping your heels, with a Philistine no less, and you tell me to not be troubled?”

“I am surprised you had not made it farther, brother,” Jesse teased.

Ari glared at his brother. “The beast would not cooperate.”

A look passed between his father and brother. “What? What is it that brings you here?”

“Your brother and I surveyed the area surrounding the camp. No—” his father held up his hand “—we did not find anything. When we returned to the camp your brother paced.” He paused. “He tends to do that whenever he is troubled.”

“I was not troubled, I am never troubled,” Jesse argued.

“You were.” Ishiah turned his eyes back to Ari. “I myself had a stirring deep within my gut. An uneasiness.”

Ari's eyes flicked to the warrior who had yet to speak. His discomfort grew under the man's watchful gaze.

“I decided to check the area once again.” Jesse crossed his arms over his chest. “Not because I was troubled.”

“And you found him?”

“No,” Jesse answered.

What did he mean by no? “Then why is he with you?” He wished his father would say what was to be said and halt the churning in his stomach.

“He came upon us when we decided to seek you.” Jesse said.

Ari shoved his fingers through his hair. “You mean to tell me you thought to travel to Jerusalem with me when you came upon a Philistine and decided to bring him along?”

“No.” His father and Jess answered together.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. His level of frustration rose, his virtue of patience sunk to the ground.

“You must return to your camp.” This came from the Philistine.

Ari glared up at the man. A sharp warning stabbed him in his chest. His gaze bounced between his father and Jesse. “Has something happened to Mira? To Joash?”

“No, not as of yet, but we,” his father said, motioning between himself and Jesse. “And—” he waved toward the warrior “—he feel the danger is imminent.”

“Since when do you listen to a Philistine, Father?” Their people may have helped train the men of Manna, but that didn't mean they trusted them. And Ari would not trust this one, especially since he'd seen him with the queen's soldiers.

“After I listened to what he had to say, Ariel.”

The donkey brayed as if to laugh. Ari's cheeks flamed with embarrassment. He knew better than to judge a man, even a Philistine, without cause. He nodded toward the man. “What is it you had to say, Philistine?”

The warrior dismounted his horse and removed his helmet. He stood a head taller than Ari. He tucked his helmet beneath his arm, his bald head glistening in the setting of the sun. “My name is Ianatos. I was with the queen's guard when the child and your woman slipped into the waterfalls.” His hard eyes settled on Ari. “I killed several when they followed in the tunnels.”

Air whooshed from Ari's lungs, relieved at having an ally in the enemy's camp. “My thanks, Ianatos.”

“None needed if we do not return to camp and save your Hebrew king. Suph, the captain of the queen's men is determined to kill the child. A man came into our camp shortly before I found your brother and told Suph of the child's whereabouts.”

Ari's jaw slid open. He wanted to ask about the man who dared betray the rightful king of Judah, who betrayed Ari's trust, but there was no time. “Then we should not waste a moment. Let us return with haste.”

“First, we must build an altar and make sacrifices,” his father said.

Jesse, Ari and even the Philistine gathered up a pile of dry brush and some wood. Ianatos retreated to his horse as they gathered up three stones, one for each of them. They laid them together and waited for their father to prepare the grain offering.

His father laid a small dish upon the stones and then they each added a portion of grain. They knelt around the altar with their heads bowed. “Father God, maker of the Earth. You alone are God. Grant Thy servants protection and wisdom. Divert our enemies. Amen,” his father prayed.

“Amen,” he and Jesse repeated.

No second thought entered Ari's mind about whether or not the cantankerous donkey would move with haste. He doubted the beast would so he rode with Jesse. The closer they drew, the more anxious he became. “Father God, forgive Thy servant for my obstinacy. I pray it has not caused harm to my king and my love,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Soon the camp's firelight rose in the distance, yet he hesitated to breathe a sigh of relief. They drew ever closer, and Ari could hear the song lifted up to God in praise. He closed his eyes and thanked God. If his family and friends were in such joyous celebration, then naught could be wrong, could it?

Ianatos pulled on his reins, bringing his horse to a halt. His father's and brother's beasts did the same.

“Wait here.” Ianatos disappeared into the darkness, leaving Ari to wonder if they'd misplaced their trust in the Philistine.

An uneasy feeling turned in his stomach as they waited in the shadows of camp. He was about to demand Jesse ride on when the clop of horses' hooves pressed into the desert. He peered into the darkness as one shadow after another appeared, all with Philistine helmets on their heads.

* * *

“What is it I can do for you, Sh'mira?” Elam asked. The tone of his voice and the way he watched her sent chills chasing down her spine. It was no more than she expected being that she was imperfect in many ways.

She bowed her head to the elder, keeping her eyes firm on her toes and her hands folded in her tunic. “Tama is busy. I would take Joash to the spring for his evening cleanse, if you approve.”

From the corner of her eye she watched him run his fingers over his beard. “I will take the boy,” he responded.

“Forgive me, as Ari has asked me to meet the child's needs and to not leave his side. For anything,” she added. She would not shirk her duty to Ari, not even for his uncle who scared her, even if Ari did hold him in high regard.

“I see.” Elam rose from his seat and said something to his companion, a man she hadn't seen before but assumed him to be from Manna. “After we've broken our fast, we will go.”

Sometime later, Mira took Joash by the hand and followed Elam. Twilight beckoned in its pale darkening beauty as the sun dipped beyond the western sky leaving it cloaked in pinks, yellows and blues. Thousands of white lights twinkled in the east, along with that of the moon. It was as if she stood in a canyon, dividing day and night. And although they remained within hearing distance of camp, a sense of unease warned her to beware. She tossed a glance over her shoulder where the evening campfire glowed less and less with each step away. She could make out Lydia and Anna as they cleared away the dishes and folded the tables.

“Sh'mira,” Joash whispered as he tugged on her hand. She leaned her ear low. “I am frightened. Shall we return to camp and cleanse on the morrow?”

Normally she would have thought the boy was seeking a way out of his bath, but she, too, would have liked to return. Yet, she allowed her feet to continue on their path behind Elam, taking a reluctant child king with her. “Have faith, all will be well,” she soothed. “Besides, we leave for Jerusalem even as the sun will rise.”

“If you say, Sh'mira,” he responded.

The trickling sound of the spring brought a semblance of relief. It was as if their destination brought peace, although she knew it best to keep a watchful eye.

“Joash, you may remove your tunic and lay it on the ground beside the stream.” Elam watched the boy move away, then he turned his eyes fully on her. “You should not coddle him. It will only make for a weak king.”

“Yes, of course,” Mira responded.

“You may sit at the edge. I will be over by yon rock if you need something.”

He walked away and then knelt beside the indicated rock. His example of diligent prayer did not pass her. Guilt gnawed at her stomach. His love for the Lord was evident in the time he spent in prayer. Much more than the others, proving she had no reason to fear him.

She ensured herself of Joash's safety as he entered the brook. Seeing that the water did not pass his knees she began to relax and focused her energies on praying for Ari's protection.

“Lord, if You will, I ask Thee to grant Ari wisdom with each step he travels. Hide him from his enemies that he may carry out Your will.” A sense of overwhelming fear gripped her body. Perspiration beaded on her brow, her stomach churned. She shook off the feeling. “Forgive Thy servant for my lack of faith, my Lord God.”

Elam's words bounced around in her head. Had she coddled Joash too much? Had she done so because she felt a kindred with him? He was alone in this world with no parents and no one to love him but her, Tama and Ari.

She blew out a breath of air.

Were they the only ones who truly loved this child beyond what he offered Judah? The thought left her saddened for the child. How could she leave him in Jerusalem, returning to her loving family, when he had no one to truly care for him? Of course, Ari and Tama would remain close by, of this she had no doubt, but would it be enough? Could she stay with Ari if he asked her to and care for the child, too? Her father would forgive her, give his blessing, even if she were to follow Ari to Jerusalem as his wife.

Could she leave her father with no sons to care for his land? Pain gripped her fingers, reminding her of all the reasons she could never spend the rest of her life with the man she loved. There would be many more men, such as Elam, who would not hide their scorn of her and her disfigurement. Although he had not spoken them aloud, she knew he did not approve of her. It was always there in his eyes.

The ground began to shake beneath her feet. She laid the palms of her hands on either side of her, thinking that the earth was about to split in two.

“Mira!” Joash cried.

She rushed to him and gathered him in her arms. She twisted around hoping to catch sight of Elam but he was nowhere to be seen. She turned back. A score of horses with menacing riders bore down on them. Curved swords rose. Her scream caught in her throat, refusing to break loose.

She should have listened to Joash and returned to camp. She should have heeded her own instincts. But she had not trusted them.

They stood in the middle of the stream when she first saw them kicking up the desert sand. Frantically she glanced around for a hiding place. Brush, reeds, anything. Not even a blade of grass poked from the riverbanks.