“Were you?” Her voice came out unsteady and quiet.
“Were you not certain I would want you again? I hunger for you, Abigail. I thought of you all day. That will not change soon. If it does, if I tire of you, I will give you leave not to come. In the meantime, nights I am home, you will be with me.”
She had no response to that command. She could only shut her eyes and resign herself to the lot she seemed to have drawn.
“I have something for you.” He put a finger under her chin to tilt her face up to his, and drew his body away from hers enough to hold something between them.
The sparkle of the necklace ignited a fire in Abigail she had not thought herself capable of. Pure, raw anger made her voice shake. “You have already shamed me enough. Must you now turn me into a harlot as well?”
He had the audacity to smile. “It is a gift, Abigail. It is not payment. I thought of you when I saw it, and it is my pleasure to see you wear it.”
“And where would I?” Her eyes met his for only a moment before latching onto the ground. “Such gifts are useless, Lord. I would have no explanation for your mother as to where I got such a thing.”
He ignored her protests and fastened it around her neck. “You may wear it with me, for now. I trust you have someplace to store it when you are not in my chamber?”
She sighed and nodded. Why argue more?
“Good.” He leaned back to survey her. “You are so beautiful, beloved.” As he moved closer once more and aimed his mouth for hers, he uttered again, “So beautiful.”
Beautiful . . . she thought it the most hateful word in the world.
*
“She is a Venus.”
Jason watched as Menelaus outlined alluring female curves in the air. “More beautiful than your women, Titus, with a modesty the likes of which you cannot find in Rome. Jason was not deceiving us.”
The others laughed, but Jason let his gaze wander to the stalls of wares they meandered by. He listened with only half an ear as Menelaus continued to expound on Abigail’s charms. It had been a week since he dined with them, but this was the first the whole group had been together.
He had expected to feel a rush of pride when his friends realized what was his. Instead, he felt only the same frustration he had felt when he left that morning.
Apparently Titus noticed the clenching of his jaw. He leaned close with a knowing smirk. “Something amiss in paradise, Jason? Has your chaste goddess turned into a shrew?”
This was one of those times when the Roman was utterly intolerable. He knew well Titus would not stop poking until he hit a tender spot. So he might as well present something. “It is not as you think, Titus. It is just this annoying Jewish tradition.”
Titus’s brows inched up. “Which tradition would that be?”
Jason shrugged, grateful the other three had ambled ahead a few steps. “She will not let me touch her. At all. Because it is the time of her monthly impurity. I understand that she would not wish to come to my bed, but she objected when I tried to kiss her! Blasted Jewish law!”
Titus’s eyes dimmed with lack of interest. Good. “It will not last long,” he said lazily. “You have no cause to complain. One week, and she will be yours again.”
“Indeed.” He closed the distance between him and Menelaus, who still painted Abigail’s portrait to Lentulus and Apidius.
But it was not the physical distance Abigail was insisting upon right now that bothered him; it was the fact that she made it clear every night that no matter how often he took her body, she still was not his. She would not call him by his name, she would not so much as touch him unless he demanded it, and she continually avoided him whenever possible. She did her duty as a slave and as his lover, but no more. When she served him, no matter the task, it was without that dedication with which she waited on his parents.
Even though her love for them had sparked their first conversation, Jason had not given it that much thought. But now, having this cold and rigid Abigail in his arms whenever he wished, he realized it had been her warmth that had drawn him. When she was with his mother, she was all soft curves and gentle femininity. With him, she had turned to marble. Exquisite and unyielding.
Well, that would have to change. He would force her to realize that her body’s reactions were nothing to be ashamed of, but rather to be embraced. He would teach her that their relationship could please them both. He would make her feel for him the same love and devotion she felt for the rest of his family. Or at least solidify the bonds between them until denying them was no longer useful. Only then, when she was a pliant and loyal servant to him, could she be useful in more than giving him his pleasure. He had learned in the Asinius house how well a beautiful face could be used with one’s peers. And Abigail’s countenance was fair enough that any man would melt in her presence as ice in a summer’s sun.
At last, he relaxed. He knew what he had to do.
Chapter Eleven