“Quiet!” He would not even look at her. He kept his gaze on the path before them, his jaw clenched as tightly as his fingers were around her arm. He said nothing more, just kept propelling her forward so quickly she was forced to break into a run once in a while to keep up with his long strides.
It had been a long time since he had been so angry. It bubbled inside him, boiling just under the surface, making his vision blur and his veins rush with the power of it. He was not absolutely certain he could keep a hold on it, and he was not absolutely certain he wanted to. The deception enraged him, the betrayal cut deeply. The poison she had been about to ingest pumped through him.
Was he that distasteful to her? Did she detest him so much that she would kill his child? Kill herself? Was life with him that terrible? He was not cruel. He did not abuse her. Never had he raised a hand in violence against her, nor so much as denied her anything she asked. He gave her gifts, he touched her gently, he did not insist upon taking his pleasure if she was tired or unwell. He was not only fair, he was kind. He thought he was treating her as she deserved.
Now he wondered if she deserved anything better than the harlots his friends frequented. She had acted no better than one. With no more loyalty. What happened to her promise to honor him as she would a husband? Would she have tried to kill the child of her husband? No. A woman without a son to see after her in her old age faced poverty and despair. What had she been thinking?
He barely noticed when they reached the house. Simon opened the door for them, confusion on his face. Jason merely took the full basket from Abigail’s grasp and shoved it into the servant’s arms on his way past. He did not so much as pause, however, until he had pulled her into his chamber and slammed the door. He tossed her onto the bed, then paced the floor silently for a moment more.
When he stopped and turned to face her, Abigail visibly braced herself. He opened his mouth, raised a hand in gesticulation, then paused. Closed his eyes, made an effort to calm himself, and tried again. “Abigail.” His voice was at a normal volume, if still too tight. “What in Jove’s name were you doing?”
She swallowed. “I am pregnant, Jason.”
“So I gathered.” He let out a growl, raked his hand through his hair, and paced again. When he turned to her, his control was once again slipping. “Were you going to tell me, Abigail? Or were you just going to poison yourself so that you lost it, probably killing yourself in the process?”
“I had not decided,” Abigail admitted quietly.
“There should have been no decision!” He cursed, wanting desperately to throw something to a shattering death. Nothing was handy, so he settled for cursing again. “It was that friend of yours, right? That slave of Julia’s. That was what was wrong with her. She was getting rid of a pregnancy. What, is she sleeping with the general?”
“Yes. To all of it.”
He cursed her this time, and she flinched at the words he used. Then he was deathly silent for a moment. When he spoke again, the fury was calmer, but not abated. “She had a reason. You did not. You are in no danger of stoning, Abigail. The worst that can happen to you is remaining mine. Why is that so dreadful to you? Am I not fair? Am I not kind? Do I not treat you well?”
“You are fair and kind.” Abigail quaked. He heard the tears in her throat, but she wisely held them back. They would not help her. “You treat me well. It is only–I do not want to go to Rome.”
It took him a moment to register what the murmurs meant. “You do not wish to go to Rome?” he repeated hollowly. “That is what this is about? A possible decision five years away?” His wrath suddenly snapped, sizzled, erupted. “I would have let you stay if you asked! But not now, Abigail. Now you have proven yourself undeserving of such regard. You are my slave, and you will remain so for the rest of your life. You will have my child.”
He approached her so quickly and forcefully that she recoiled. He loomed over her, pushing her into the mattress by the pure power of his anger. Putting an arm on either side of her to support himself, he glowered down into her terrified face. “You will have my child,” he said again. “You will do whatever you must to be sure it is healthy. There will be no more deception. You will not attempt to harm it again. If you do, I will have you stoned. Do you understand me, Abigail? There will be no excuses, there will be no second chances. There will be no more mercy. When I want you, I will take you, and I when I do not, you will stay out of my way.”