He took a menacing step toward her. “Perhaps I just will not touch you anymore, Abigail. That would make you happy, would it not?”
Sudden tears sprang to life in her eyes, and they were too unexpected for her to control. She clenched her fists together and let them fall onto her legs. “No! It would not. Can you not see? Can you not understand? That is what makes me a monster. What makes me so deserving of this punishment. I want your touches, I want everything you do to me, but still I cannot give you my heart. I am no better than your harlots!” Her knees buckled, and she sagged to the floor sobbing. She pounded the floor with her fists, declaring herself a wretch with every breath.
Jason’s knees hit the floor beside her, and he hauled her into his arms. “Hush, beloved. You are no monster.”
“I am a sinful beast.” She curled her fingers around the cloth of his tunic to anchor her against the comforting solidity of his chest. “Jehovah is punishing me for my sins.”
“Jehovah is the one who made man in such a way, able to enjoy such pleasures. How can it be a sin to do so? You are not sinful just because you respond as a woman should.”
“I have profaned what he made holy.” Her tears slowed, bringing resignation. “I have enjoyed the means he gave us without desiring, and in fact resenting, the purpose.” A hand on her abdomen illustrated what that purpose was.
Jason drew in a deep breath and rocked her. “Perhaps it is not a punishment for your sins, dear one. Perhaps it is a blessing in spite of them. Look at it that way, please. Do not hate our child.”
“I could hate no child.” Hopefully her voice did not sound as hollow as it felt.
“Then try to want this one.” He put a finger under her chin to force her face up. She must look a fright, but he just kissed her trembling lip, a light caress that soothed more than she wanted it to.
She rested against him. “I apologize for my outburst.”
“It was deserved. I apologize for my behavior. I will not repeat it, I swear to you. You will be the only one I turn to, beloved.” He kissed her forehead, then gathered her into his arms and stood, placed her gently on the bed. He smiled down at her. “You need your sleep.”
She accepted it as the peace offering it was.
Chapter Eighteen
The cold certainty of death sent a perpetual snake of dread up Abigail’s spine. She saw it in Ester’s gaze that morning, taking the form of concern. She felt it in the continual ache of her back. There it darted in the worried exchange that Dinah and Simon didn’t think she heard.
She was not as well as she should be. Four months along, and still the sickness gripped her, still exhaustion ruled every limb. She was too weak. Too ill.
She would miscarry. And Jason would think she did it on purpose and have her stoned.
Clenching her fingers against the trembling, Abigail carefully set down Ester’s plate and took up her place between her and Jason. She dared not look at her master. His eyes would land on her abdomen, fill with that hope that could condemn her. If she lost his child, he would never forgive her. That fragile peace negotiated through anger and tears would crumble around her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, soul yearning to pray for the deliverance of the babe within her. But Jehovah would not hear. She had sinned against him. His punishment was deserved.
Nausea swamped her, churned her stomach. She opened her eyes again, but her vision swam. She had better sit down. Better . . .
Darkness fell over her like a blanket. For a moment, she indulged in the sweet relief of no feeling. But there in the black of her mind, she found no rest. Once again her soul yearned toward God. She snatched herself back and struggled to shrug off the night.
Blinking, she saw the ceiling of Jason’s room. His face, so close. And beyond him, Ester, Cleopas, Andrew, even Dinah and Simon.
Jason’s face shifted under her glance, from worry to determination. “That is enough. Abigail, you have been pushing yourself too hard. You will stop. No more physical labor. You will not help in the kitchen, and you will not wait at the table. You may keep my mother company, but that is the extent of your service.” He shifted his gaze to his father, who Abigail noted looked shaken. “If the others cannot keep up with the work without her, I will get another slave to help, but Abigail will not put herself at risk any longer.”
Cleopas, Ester, and Andrew were all nodding solemnly at his wisdom. Abigail was apparently the only one who did not agree. “I am fine.” Her voice came out too faint. They would never believe her. “The sickness is always at its worst in the mornings, but even that should be passing soon.” Seeing that Jason was not at all convinced by her argument, she added, “Women have been carrying children for eons, Jason, and still managing their labors.”
“And mine will not be one of the ones who dies of the effort.” Jason looked back to his companions, who all looked as determined as he. “I trust we will all see to it?”