“And what reason might that be?”
“Convenience?”
His face reddened. “You would say that to me?”
“She will be completely dependent upon others to care for her physical body. That requires great compassion and love, Alexander. Iulius has that. You have no time for it.”
He was seldom angry, but her words stirred a fury within him. “Have I ever lacked for compassion? Hasn’t my sole desire been to learn all I can in order to help people?”
“What of those you turn away?”
“I only turn patients away I know I can’t cure.”
“Have they less need of your love?”
He sensed no condemnation in her words, yet felt the sharp slice of them in his heart. “What am I supposed to do, Rapha? Take on everyone who asks me for help? What would you have me do?”
Setting her cup aside, she rose and limped across the room. She stood before him and said simply, “This” and put her arms around him. She said nothing more, and her sweet embrace made his heart ache. He felt her hand move on his back, rubbing softly, comforting, and all the anger and confusion left him. His eyes smarted. He closed them and put his arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. He let out his breath slowly.
“Sometimes I’d like to ring your neck, you frustrate me so much,” he said gruffly.
She laughed softly. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Grinning, he drew back and cupped her face, lifting it. “What would I do without you, Rapha.”
Her amusement died. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. “You would have to learn to trust the Lord.”
Alexander felt dismay as she released his hands and limped slowly toward the door. Suddenly, unaccountably, he knew he was alone. He knew he would eventually lose her. He didn’t know how or why, he just knew.
Something had happened tonight that he couldn’t define. Had God shown her another path? For the first time in his life, he wished he owned her, that he could claim legal, personal possession of her and keep her by his side permanently.
He frowned, wondering at this unease he felt, and then remembered his suspicions when Rashid had brought word that a servant from the Valerian household was waiting below. Hadassah’s head had come up as though struck by a bolt of lightning.
Sudden understanding flowed into him, and he looked at her in horror. “You knew her, didn’t you, Hadassah? You didn’t just know of Phoebe Valerian, you had personal knowledge of her.” His heart beat heavily. “It was the Valerian family who owned you, wasn’t it?” Fear filled him, fear for her sake—fear for his sake and the thought of losing her. “What did you do during that time you were alone with her? Hadassah!”
She left the room without answering him.
But Alexander already knew what she had done. Hadassah had removed her veils. She had revealed herself to a member of the very household who had tried to have her killed.
“By the gods . . . !” he said under his breath, raking his hands through his hair.
Why hadn’t he asked her if she knew the Valerians before he had taken her there? He had known from the beginning there were risks. Now he had put her in danger. And for what? To witness another miracle of healing? No! He had taken her along with him because he was proud of her abilities, proud she was his assistant. And what had his insufferable pride accomplished?
A helpless desperation flowed over him. God, protect her! I’ve been a fool! I’ve put her in mortal danger. I’ve exposed her to the family who tried to kill her once already.
What if the woman regained her voice? What then? God, he prayed fervently, hands clenched, keep that woman’s tongue confused. Keep her silent!
Sitting down, he cursed himself.
Hadassah entrusted herself to God, but he couldn’t be so trusting. To lose Hadassah would be to lose everything. He was only just beginning to understand that, only beginning to face what she meant to him. Maybe he had to put all scruples aside and take the matter into his own hands. Besides, the woman was better off dead. He winced, thinking of what Hadassah had said. But he had to be rational.
One visit to Phoebe Valerian and he could make sure Hadassah would be out of danger for good. Once Phoebe Valerian was dead, he would make sure Hadassah never went near another Valerian.
Suddenly Hadassah’s words echoed in his mind. Convenience. Was convenience reason enough to kill someone? No. But what about protecting the life of another? What of retribution? The Valerians had tried to murder her by sending her into the arena to face the lions. What of vengeance?
He shuddered, realizing the course of his thinking. He remembered Hadassah bending over Phoebe Valerian. Everything about the way she stood and spoke revealed the love she had for that woman. How was it possible?