“I know where it is. But sometimes I fear its toll is too high.” She bit her lip, wishing back the honest words, and lowered her lashes to cover her eyes.
She felt Jason’s steady regard on her for a moment before he brushed his lips against hers. “Let us rise, fair one. I will select the wine for the meal and help you prepare it. Some bread and cheese and fruit will suffice.”
“I can do it,” Abigail assured him, set on proving to herself that she served him as selflessly as she did his mother. “It is your day off. Rest and enjoy it.”
“Nonsense.” Jason was already climbing over her and reaching for clothes. “It will be too boring. I usually go out on these days, but since my friends will be coming here, it seems pointless.” Standing on the floor beside the bed, he looked down at her with pursed lips, as if evaluating what he saw. “Wear one of the garments I bought you, Abigail. The red one, perhaps.”
Her cheeks flushed to the color of the cloth he referred to, and she took one of her rare stands. “I cannot, my lord. Not before other men, strangers!”
Jason’s grin was lopsided and boyish, and he suddenly reminded her of Cleopas in his teasing moments; the resemblance did little to ease her discomfort. “I suppose it leaves little to the imagination. And I suppose that I do not want my friends thinking I am offering you to them. What about the blue?”
She considered for a moment, then nodded. It fit her more closely than she would have liked, but it at least covered her. And she had to admit that the fine Egyptian cloth felt soothing against her skin.
“And the Egyptian necklace, too,” Jason added. “It will match well.”
“Master,” she began, though he held up a hand to halt her.
He was still grinning. “How often do you get to wear nice things, beloved? Take this opportunity.”
She gave in, but with a sigh. For some reason, her reticence made Jason laugh.
The morning, already half gone, flew by. They got out some wine, sliced bread and cheese and fruit. Only after everything was ready would Abigail change into the beautiful garment, unwilling to risk spilling anything on it.
Dressed, adorned, and incredibly nervous, Abigail emerged from her room mere minutes before the guests should arrive. She fingered the ends of a lock of hair, wanting to pull it back so that it would be out of her way; but Jason had said she should leave it down, so it hung free and long and thick down her back, nearly brushing her waist.
“You are enchanting,” Jason proclaimed in a voice almost reverent. He reached out to run his fingers through a tendril of her hair, smiling with pride.
She had no time to answer, as at that moment a knock sounded on the front door. Abigail hurried toward it, habit and training kicking in. As she gripped the solid iron ring, she told herself that she had no reason to suppose this visit would be anything out of her ordinary routine. She would serve, refill cups, and otherwise blend into the decor. She tugged on the handle and pulled the door open, moving with it so that it blocked her from view and presented Jason, who had followed a few steps behind her.
Jason smiled and greeted his four friends as they entered.
Abigail watched as they look around, felt their gazes on her when she closed the door behind them. The shortest spoke first. “Very nice. My compliments, Jason.” Did he mean the house or her?
Jason just snorted a laugh, which answered her question, and turned to the others. “Come, let us dine.” He led the way into the triclinium with a smile. “I am still slightly amazed we all have time off today. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
The four filed in, and Abigail took the opportunity to appraise these friends of her master as he greeted them by name. Lentulus, the first behind Jason, was a bit shorter than he, with hair of a lighter brown. He was light of build but had a look of agility about him, reminding Abigail of a feline able to bound onto a wall. Apidius, next in line, was the tallest in the group, but also looked to be uncomfortable with that fact. His shoulders were rolled forward, his head inclined slightly. His hair hung in curls over his head, and his face had a gentility the others’ did not. Menelaus, closest to Jason in both height and build, also seemed to be the most jovial. He was smiling now, as he had been since she opened the door, and the other features of his face faded away in the light of his gleaming white teeth. Titus, the last one through the door, moved with long, strong strides that accentuated his muscled frame. He was taller than Jason but shorter than Apidius and had those strong features that the Romans were wont to worship. Abigail could not readily imagine what his face would look like with an honest smile cracking the chiseled countenance.