Abigail was pregnant. That was what the entire drama came down to. Not pausing to discern what it was he felt at that realization, he moved with renewed energy to her door, not even bothering to knock before entering.
She was sitting up, perched on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around her middle as Miriam dabbed at the blood on her face. Her left eye was already swollen almost closed, a mottled red that promised to turn dark with bruising in a few hours. Just looking at her made him ache. He held his ground until Miriam murmured, “There, the bleeding has stopped.” Then he stepped forward.
“Leave us.” Titus spoke softly enough that the loyal servants would not fear to obey him. He stood aside to let them pass but did not advance into the room until the door closed behind them. Even then, he took only a few steps before halting again. Abigail sat without moving, her good eye focused on him, and waited silently for him to speak. It was just as well that she did not immediately launch into excuses. He wanted simple answers. “How long have you known?” He tried to soften his tone, but he had a feeling some of his anger slipped out, if her slight recoil was any indication.
“I have suspected it for a few weeks. I was not sure until this morning, when the nausea began.”
Titus’s fingers curled into a fist, but he had the good sense to hide his hand in a fold of his toga to keep her from noticing. “And were you planning to tell me this, or simply go to a local harlot and try to poison yourself, as you did when you learned you were carrying Jason’s child?”
Abigail flinched and turned her head away, struggling to keep her breathing even. “How can you even ask that, seeing how I love my children?”
“It is reasonable enough. I will not abandon all hopes of a career and marry you. But your honorable status of widow is tainted and ruined if you have a child that obviously did not belong to your husband. You will be outcast everywhere. Your son will suffer.”
“He would if I were to die by poison, too. And I could not choose the life of one of my children over the life of another.” She shook her head vehemently, though it must have hurt her. She raised a hand to her temple and winced. “I know what this child will cost me, but it is ours. I will have it, and I will love it.” She paused a moment to let that sink in. “I was only out there today to tell you I was pregnant. And to ask you what your will is. If you want me to leave and never bother you again, I will. If you want your child close enough for you to visit, I am prepared to move to the villa permanently.”
Titus regarded her with disbelief. “You do not want to live in Rome, you have said it yourself.”
She returned his gaze with her good eye. “I will not take your child from you unless you command it. Things have changed, Titus. I will never be accepted back into Israel now. They were not very tolerant of me as it was; do you not remember how the Pharisee offered me to Barabbas? I do not wish to find myself stoned.”
“But what of Ester?” He could not imagine that she was suddenly so willing to give up all that she had been holding dear.
“Ester will understand my decision. She will hold that it is fitting for a woman to leave her family for her husband. I know,” she then added quickly, raising a hand slightly to fend off the words that had leaped to his lips, “you will not marry me. I would not ask it of you. But as I swore to Jason when I was given to him as his slave, I will swear to you now. You may treat me as you will, but I will honor you as my husband and lord for the rest of my life.” Her lips trembled. “I love you, Titus. After you, there can be no other.”
He shook his head. “How is it that honoring me as your husband involves forbidding me to touch you?”
Abigail raised her chin a notch. “I honor and love you enough to try to spare your soul the sin to which I tempt you.”
Titus dug his fingertips into his palms. “Even now, when you are willing to stay here, when you are willing to give up all other parts of your life, when you are willing to have my child in spite of ostracization, you are not willing to budge on this?”
“You do not understand.” Her whisper sounded fierce, colored by her bruises and her passion. “As a man, you are not judged for this, but I am. By having your child, I submit myself to scorn and hatred, while you receive slaps of congratulations on your back from all of your friends. You have the freedom to walk away from this situation, and I cannot stop you. The world will not forgive me, Titus. But God will. He will only if I repent earnestly, and it is only then that I can forgive myself. Tell me, my love, how would you have me live if I have not even that? How am I to stand against the scorn of society without the strength of my God?”