“Blessed is the man with a quiver full of children, as Abba always says.”
She chuckled and ran a hand over the chair he had worked on day and night, one he had envisioned her sitting in as she soothed his babe to sleep someday. “When did you make
all this?”
“Whenever I could. Abba and Joshua helped too. Come. There is more you must see.” His heart kicked up again as he led her back through the main part and into the remaining
chamber.
The bed took up most of the space, its frame carved into a delicate design. Beauty disguising strength, to match its mistress. He had incorporated the same pattern in the
chest, in the vanity, in the table.
“Zech, it is exquisite.” She stopped just inside the door.
“Not so exquisite as you.” He stepped in front of her and framed her face with his hands. Had he ever been blind to her perfection? Impossible. She filled every crevice of
his being now. “I love you, Esther.”
She blinked rapidly, but tears still crowded her eyes. “I feel as though I have waited a century to hear you say that. You know I love you, Zechariah.”
He eased a little closer. “I know not why Jehovah blessed me so, but I praise him for it. I want you to be my wife, Esther. I want to spend my life beside you, I want us to
fill this house with children and laughter.”
Her eyes slid shut. “Nothing would make me happier.” One eye squinted up at him, and she grinned. “Though you will have to speak to my cousin.”
“I will. As soon as he gets home.” He leaned down until his lips hovered a breath from hers.
“Mmm. You will have to wait—he will be at the feast into the night, but will be home all day tomorrow.”
Disappointment struck, but it could not take hold. Not when she was so close, when he knew that, though unofficially, she was his. Unable to wait another second, he brushed
her lips with his.
His blood sang, his heart soared. When her arms came about him, he knew this was the key to paradise. Esther. Only Esther.
He deepened the kiss, ran his hands down her back, pulled her close. Just as he had expected, her response combined the sweet and the eager, the innocent and the confident.
How he wanted to lose himself, to be overcome—but no.
Easing away, he drew in a long, shaky breath. “I am hoping that since we had a lengthy courtship, your cousin will agree to a short betrothal.”
Her eyes smoldered, her lips curved. “I do not see why he would object.”
“Good.” He took one more kiss, which stretched longer than he intended, and then stepped away. “Tomorrow? Perhaps I will hunt him down at the palace, demand an answer
this very hour.”
She chuckled and closed the distance between them again. “You have waited all these months—you can wait one more day.” She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him
down again.
“Not if you do that much more.” He pivoted them so that he could walk her into a safer area. Gave her one more kiss, then propelled her outside. “I am going to be a
menace with the tools today—my thoughts will be all on you and none on the blade.”
“Well, mind your fingers.” She caught both his hands and raised them to kiss a knuckle. “I am fond of them.”
He could not hold back the grin. “Away with you, woman, before I forget that there is work to be done.”
She gave him a smile, his fingers a squeeze, and scampered through the kitchen into his parents’ house.
Zechariah hooked a hand around the burning back of his neck and watched her go. He had known she would like the house. And once they were wed, he would give her something
she would love far more—the knowledge that Kasia lived. Perhaps he would even take her to the palace sometime, if it could be arranged.
He smiled as he returned to the wood shop. Abba was nowhere in sight, and the quiet of the room wrapped around him. Humming a quiet psalm, he picked up his awl.
“Excuse me.”
The voice struck some distant bell in his memory, but it was not until he looked up that he recognized the man as one of Ruana’s servants. His shoulders tensed. “Yes?”
The man stepped inside, glancing all around as if to check for listening ears. Apparently the emptiness did not satisfy him, for he stepped close, leaned closer. “I have a
message from my mistress.”
Zechariah sighed. Why today of all days? Why must she interfere in his life now? “Deliver it and go.”
“She must speak with you. Today, she says.”
He snorted and struck the end of the awl with a hammer. “Not a chance.”
“She bade me beg on her behalf. It is urgent, or she would not ask it of you. She says if you do not meet her, she will come here.”
“No.” He tossed the awl down with a clatter and breathed a curse. “Not here. But I will not go to her home again.”