She may have had better success in mustering an objection if he had not already figured out what sensations overwhelmed her. She fell asleep once again in his arms.
But that night she dreamed of the earth shaking, of thunder rolling in, of the midday sky turning black as night. She dreamed of a colorless world, with naught to brighten it but a single glistening, perfectly formed drop of blood that hovered in the air like the sun. In her dream she stirred, reached, tried to touch the crimson sphere, but it evaded her. In her dream she wept, stretched, demanded of God an explanation for why he withheld his salvation. Just before she awoke, she looked down at her own dream-created feet and saw that it was she who was moving away. And the drop of blood fell onto the world, erasing the darkness and leaving it bright as morning again.
But still she stood in the shadows.
Chapter Forty
Titus ran his fingers through the hair splayed over his chest, twisted it loosely around his forefinger, let the wave fall free again. Abigail slept as soundly as the children in the next room, and he was glad. Truly. She had seemed restless these last few days, even though he had refused any further invitations from Lucius for social activities. Staying home with her had not pacified the irritation he seemed to chafe within her. The last three nights she had been tossing terribly, caught in the throes of a bad dream. He had held her each time as she awoke shaken, trying to soothe her, but she had not even told him what haunted her in her sleep.
Tonight he was the one suspended in unrest. He had gotten a couple hours of slumber earlier, but now, perhaps an hour or two before dawn, he was wide awake. Loath to disturb Abigail, he tried not to stir.
A boring undertaking. His mind would not halt long enough for him to fall back asleep, but it did not come up with any particularly riveting thoughts, either. So he lay there and played with Abigail’s hair and tried to tell himself that there was some external cause to her recent moods aside from him. Perhaps they were even normal; after all, he had only really known her for a few months, he certainly had not seen every facet of her being yet. And had Jason not complained often enough about her attitudes?
His brows furrowed. He did not want to compare his relationship with Abigail to Jason’s. She was not his slave, he had not forced her to this, he did not hold her life in his hands. She had good reason to remain distant from Jason. And she had not loved him. Their current situation was quite different; she was just not acting like it right now. Perhaps it was because she was not yet accustomed to it, to him, to feeling these things. Perhaps she felt guilty for finding another so soon after her husband’s death. Perhaps she was afraid of what would happen once Ester arrived in Rome.
All likely reasons; none of them the real one. But he did not want to think about the sin. He knew that every night they spent in each other’s arms was wrong. Knew it, believed it. But the conviction, if present, was buried so deeply within him that it could not move him. One part of him said that he was making terrible mistakes, but another, louder part said it made no difference.
When blinded with pleasure, it was easy to push aside the guilt. Every time he looked at her and realized anew that she was his, that was all that mattered. He loved her as he had never loved another. Why should they not enjoy what they could while it lasted?
The knock on the door made him drop the lock of hair around his finger. It was still before dawn; what reason did anyone have for coming to his door? Hoping nothing was wrong, curious, he slid his arm out from under Abigail and eased out of bed. Slipping his tunic quickly over his head, he strode to the door. Opening it revealed a servant standing with a lamp, his father illuminated by its glow. Titus drew his brows together. “What is it?”
Caius’s gaze moved past Titus and into the room, undoubtedly to where the silhouette of Abigail’s figure was visible in the moonlight. “I am sorry to interrupt you, my son.”
“I was not asleep anyway.” Titus pitched his voice low to try to avoid disturbing Abigail. “What is it?”
Caius turned his attention back on Titus. “You may remember that over a year ago one of our ships disappeared. We assumed it sank in a storm. I have just received word that it pulled into the harbor, and they assumed I would want to meet it right away; who knows where it has been or what it will have on board. Since you have been the one handling that business this past week, I thought you would like to accompany me.”