An Echo in the Darkness(91)

Taphatha wondered what he was thinking. Often these days she found herself wishing he would forget the woman he had loved and lost, and love her instead. Sometimes she struggled against a hunger to be with him on the rooftop, to hear his voice, to look into his eyes. She wondered now what it would be like to have Marcus Valerian reach out to her . . . and these feelings did frighten her.

Marcus was forbidden. From the time she could remember, her father had taught her that disaster came from disobeying the Lord, and the Lord clearly forbade intermarriage with Gentiles. It was true, many Gentiles had become proselytes, were circumcised, and became Jews, but this would never happen with Marcus. He said he was searching for God, but there was an edge to his questions. The wall around his heart was almost palpable.

What was he really hoping to find?

Her father didn’t want her spending too much time with Marcus. She understood why, yet circumstances had thrown her together with him, for her mother would not even go onto the roof. “I will serve no Roman,” she said on the first day Marcus had been brought into the house. And so, during the days that followed, when her father was at his writing table, Marcus’ care fell to Taphatha.

And each time she came up onto the rooftop, she felt more drawn to him and thus, more vulnerable.

His steady gaze made her body warm.

“You’re very quiet today,” Marcus said and smiled at her as he took the bread from her hands. His fingers brushed hers lightly and sent a rush of heat through her. She knew the touch was an accident but couldn’t help but catch her breath softly. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed by her reaction to him. “What’s wrong, little one?” His question merely made her heart beat faster.

“There’s nothing wrong, my lord,” she said, striving for normalcy, dismayed by the nervous tremor in her voice.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

She lifted her head and forced herself to study him. The swelling on his face was gone, but the flesh around both eyes was deep purple and streaked with yellow. As soon as he had been well enough to get up and move about the roof, she had noted his proud bearing and his strength. And she had felt sure that his handsome features had probably turned the heads of many women before her. Now he smiled again—a slow curve of his lips that made her stomach drop.

Realizing she was staring at his mouth, she blushed and lowered her eyes. What would he think of her?

Marcus leaned his hip back against the roof wall. “You remind me of someone I once knew.” Hadassah had been embarrassed by the least of his attentions, just as this young girl was.

Taphatha raised her head again and saw the pained expression on his face. “Was she very beautiful?”

“No,” he said with a sad smile. “She was plain.” Marcus gently reached out and tipped her chin. “Little Taphatha, you are very beautiful. You’d have all the men of Rome groveling at your feet for a single smile. The women would pine with jealousy.”

Taphatha felt a strange sense of pride in the way he assessed her. She knew she wasn’t plain, nor was she blind to the way men looked at her when she walked to the well. Sometimes she wished to be plain so men wouldn’t look at her as Adonijah had. Yet, it pleased her that Marcus thought she was beautiful.

Marcus touched the smooth, flawless skin of Taphatha’s cheek. How long had it been since he had touched a woman or was even aware of one as he was aware now? His fingers glided down over the rapid pulse in her throat. He took his hand away. “Hadassah was not beautiful in the way the world sees beauty,” he said. “It is your innocence and gentleness that reminds me of her.”

His face became shadowed again, and, though he looked at her, she knew he was thinking of someone else. She spoke quietly. “You must have loved her very much, my lord.”

“I still love her,” he said heavily and looked away. A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I’ll never stop loving her until I take my last breath.”

His words saddened her more than she wanted to admit. “Did she love you that much, Marcus Lucianus Valerian?”

His mouth curved bitterly. He looked down at the girl again. Hadassah had been about Taphatha’s age when he had realized he was falling in love with her. He remembered how Hadassah’s dark eyes had seemed to hold all the mysteries of the universe in them. Just as Taphatha’s now did. Watching her, he noticed other things as well. Her cheeks were flushed. Her brown eyes held a soft glow. It would be easy, too easy, to take advantage of her.

“You and I will never talk of love, little Taphatha. It’s a subject best left alone between a Roman and a Jew.”