“You need not fear, my lady.”
“I know that in my head, but my heart . . .” She sighed, struggling against the invading weakness. This small effort was almost too much for her. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.”
Hadassah felt her trembling. “You must rest now, my lady. Your brother will be fine in a few days.” She bent to help her rise.
“Iulius can help me back to my room. You stay with him. Please. I trust him in your care.”
Hadassah touched her cheek. “You’re thinking of others above yourself.”
Julia’s mouth curved wryly. “Am I? Or is it only that my last hope rests in him?” She leaned upon Iulius as she left the room.
Hadassah remained with Marcus through the night. He roused once and looked at her with dazed eyes. Frowning, he mumbled. She rose and leaned down. “What is it, my lord?” she said and put her hand on his forehead. It was cool.
He grasped the edge of her veils and tugged weakly. Her heart leapt. Straightening quickly, she gently loosened his fingers and sat again, trembling.
He moved again, relaxing into sleep, and her gaze moved over him. He filled her with wonder, for he was strongly built and beautifully made. She thought she could sit like this forever and just look at him. Tears pricked her eyes and she looked away. She prayed that the passion she felt for him might be transformed into agape. The memory of his kisses, given her so long ago, still sent her pulse racing. She prayed God would wipe it from her mind. Still the longing persisted. He moved again, restless and in pain. She reached out and took his hand. At her touch, he calmed.
“Why, Lord? Why do you do this to me?” she whispered desolately. There was no answer.
As the dawn sent rays of sunlight over the wall of the balcony, Marcus awakened. Sluggish and disoriented, he turned his head and saw Azar sitting beside his sleeping couch. He rose slightly and sucked in his breath, immediately remembering the attack of the night before. Hadassah raised her head.
Wincing at the sharp pain in his side, he swore and lay back.
She put her hand lightly over his. “Lie still, my lord, or you will reopen the wound.”
As she drew back slightly, Marcus captured her hand and pinned it down beneath his own. “You remained with me all night?”
“Lady Julia was concerned for you.”
“She need not be. It’s a superficial wound.” He loosened his grasp on her, holding her hand lightly rather than captive.
“Perhaps, my lord, but a little lower and your attacker might have struck a vital organ.”
“A little higher and he would have slit my throat.” He frowned. “You tremble,” he said, curious. She withdrew her hand, and he frowned.
Hadassah’s heart raced as he studied her intently. What was he thinking? His gaze moved down and fixed upon her hands clenched in her lap. She tried to relax. Now that he was awake, she should call Iulius to tend him. She rose, but she had sat too long. Her bad leg cramped, drawing a gasp of pain from her lips before she could catch herself. Clenching her teeth, she took a step back, ashamed of her awkwardness.
Marcus noticed, but didn’t care. “You’re not going, are you?” he said. Frowning, he looked up at the veils again. He could see the shape of her face beneath, but made out no distinctive features. A thin line had been cut and the edges embroidered so that she could see out, but he couldn’t see behind that wall of colored gauze. She lowered her head and turned slightly, and he knew, though the gesture seemed natural enough, she was avoiding his perusal and his touch.
“You should eat, my lord. I’ll ask one of the servants to have food brought up to you.”
Marcus wanted her to stay. He wanted to know more about her. He wondered why she roused his curiosity. As she turned toward the door, he grasped for any excuse. “The bandage seems to be slipping.” Azar turned back, her head tilting slightly to study it critically. “Do you see?” he said and gave it a tug, gritting his teeth against the stab of pain.
“It will remain tight enough, my lord, if you stop pulling at it.”
He grinned. “I will stop pulling at it if you sit and talk with me.”
“You aren’t a little boy anymore, my lord.”
His grin softened into a wry smile. “No. I’m not, Lady Azar.” He pointed toward the chair. “Sit and speak to me as a man and not a boy.” He would use whatever means he had available to spend more time with her, even commanding her as master of his household. She roused his interest more than anyone had in a long, long time.
She sat where she had been, but he sensed the distance she put between them. “You speak with Julia by the hour but can’t seem to abide my company for even a few minutes.”