Titus had nothing to say in response. He nodded to acknowledge that he had heard her, then he gave in to the instinct he had been fighting for the last few minutes and went over to her. He sat beside her on the bed and put an arm around her, drawing her gently to his side. It was the first time he had touched her in a month and a half, and he did not want to hurt her.
“I love you,” he whispered into her ear. The words relaxed her a degree, and she let herself be molded into his light embrace. “That will never change. Know that, no matter what happens.” He put a finger under her chin to urge her face up, careful of her injuries. “I will have to think about this, Abigail, and consider my options.”
She gave a small nod. “I know.”
He brushed a feather-light kiss over her cracked lips, then drew away. “I will not keep you waiting long. Lie down, rest, and I will talk to you again tomorrow.”
But it was panic that lit her eyes instead of agreement, and she pulled away. “No. I will not stay here another night, Titus. Did you not hear him? He wishes me dead!”
How many times must he say the same thing? “It is not safe for you at the villa.”
“It is far less safe for me here. Look at me, Titus.” She held a hand to her face. “This is what has become of my obedience to you on this matter. I will not endanger myself or the children or your babe by remaining any longer in this house.”
She stood to prove her point, and he mirrored her, not sure whether he intended to argue the point or admit defeat. He had the chance to do neither. She no more than straightened before she cried out in pain and doubled over again. She would have fallen in a heap on the floor had he not reached out quickly and caught her.
“Abigail!” he called, even as Phillip burst through the door. She did not seem to hear him. Agony was etched onto her face as it had been not so many months ago, the first time he had held her in his arms. “Abigail, speak to me.”
“Titus, there is blood.” Phillip’s voice was saturated with horror.
“The baby.” Titus knew he sounded as terrified as he was, but he did not care a whit for Stoicism at the moment. He picked her up and put her back on the bed as he shouted, “Go for a doctor! Take Timothy with you, he knows where to find the best. Hurry!”
Phillip’s quick footsteps pounded away. Miriam appeared to help him position Abigail on the mattress. When they tried to shift her, she groaned and curled up in a ball from which they could not urge her, arms and knees drawn up to protect her abdomen.
“I will kill him,” Titus muttered, seeing the stain of red grow on her garment. “If she dies, so will he.”
Miriam looked up at him out of narrowed eyes. “She needs your support right now, not your anger.”
Titus uncurled one of Abigail’s fists so that he could weave his fingers with hers. With his other, he soothed the hair from her face. “Help is coming, my love. You are strong, all will be well.”
Miriam drew in a long breath. “We will need rags. I will stay with her, I know what to do. My first mistress miscarried, and I was with her the entire time.”
“She will not lose the baby,” Titus corrected her with burning eyes.
Miriam gazed at him silently for a moment. “We will need rags to staunch the blood regardless. Go get someone to fetch them, Titus, and have them bring fresh water.”
“You go. I will not leave her.”
Miriam stared him down in frustration. “Titus, this is a woman’s problem, and I know far better how to handle it than you. Nothing will happen to her in the three minutes it will take you to accomplish those errands, and the servants will obey you far more quickly than they will me.”
That last was enough to convince him. He eased away, freed his hand. “You are right. I will be back immediately, beloved.” He kissed her fingers.
By the time he reached the door, he was at a run. And he felt a dark enemy chasing him, biting at his heels with every step. Speed would not help him escape it, running would only propel him into its talons.
He dropped to his knees in the middle of the corridor, then fell prostrate on the floor. “Lord, return to me!” he cried with anguish that tore his soul in two. “Forgive me and return! Do not punish her and the babe for my sins, I beg you!”
He felt the Spirit whisper over him, and the cleansing it brought took away his breath. A moment later, he found himself back on his feet, a single impression present in his mind:
Hurry.
Chapter Forty-Two
Titus rushed back from the servants’ hall, orders given, his mind looping endlessly in fervent prayer. He did not even know anymore what he was praying, but he knew that the Lord understood the cries of his heart. He knew, too, that his heart wanted nothing more than to be beside Abigail, and not just in this moment. But he did not have time to think about anything right now.
He was just entering the main part of the house when Caelia called out from behind him, tears in her voice. “Titus!”