“I didn’t think you would.”
“Didn’t you?” he said dryly, noting the pulse throbbing in her throat.
“You startled me. That’s all.”
He just looked at her, wanting her all over again. When he had heard her approach, he’d expected words of retaliation, insults, even mockery. He had been prepared for those things, equipped with his own weapons. If she had railed at him, his guilt could have been salved. Instead, she apologized . . . and stripped him of his armor. He searched for words and couldn’t find any sufficient.
She waited a moment for him to speak. Searching his face, her own softened, her dark eyes filling with compassion and tenderness. “I forgive you, Atretes. I won’t speak of it again.” She turned away again and stepped up the bank. He saw the raw skin around her ankles where the leather straps of her worn sandals had rubbed over the long hours of walking. Not once had she complained. He wanted to wash her feet and rub salve in and then wrap them. He wanted to hold and comfort her.
“Rizpah.” His voice came out rough and hard, not the way he had intended. He waited until she looked at him. “If you hadn’t spoken as you did last night, I would not have let you go, and to Hades with your feelings,” he said with painful honesty.
“I know,” she said with equal frankness. “I know other means of protecting myself, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He laughed. It was such an outrageous statement. She smiled back, her dark eyes guileless and warm. His laughter died. It struck him again how deep his feelings for her went.
“I can’t promise it won’t happen again.” His mouth curved bitterly. “It comes of being what I am.”
“It comes of what you’ve allowed Rome to make you.”
His mouth tightened. He shifted Caleb in his arms and came closer. “I haven’t touched another woman since you came to my villa. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity.”
She blushed, wondering if he knew what he was revealing to her. His physical strength and beauty had always intimidated her, but never so much as this confession did, for it was as close as he would get to admitting he held her in any esteem whatsoever. Her response to him was appallingly strong.
Lord, don’t let this man be my undoing. You know all my weaknesses. Lord, put stumbling blocks between Atretes and me; otherwise I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand firm.
Atretes studied her face intently and saw a great deal he knew she didn’t intend him to see. He walked toward her slowly, feeling her tension increasing with each step. She moved a foot up to higher ground. He understood; she wanted distance between them. He looked into her eyes and saw something else. She didn’t want distance because she loathed him, but because he could breach her walls.
“Take him back with you.” He held Caleb up to her. She had to come down two steps to take him. As she did, she looked at him again. Atretes watched the pupils of her brown eyes widen until he felt drawn inside her. Need swept over him. He smiled bleakly. “You’d better keep your little shield close.”
23
Theophilus was ready to go when they returned. Atretes shouldered his gear, and they walked another six miles, making camp beside another small stream. Rizpah went down to a small pool and soaked her aching feet while she bathed Caleb. The water was cold, but the child loved it, splashing and babbling in pure pleasure. She laughed when he slapped the water. “Enough,” she said and plucked him out.
She carried him up the bank, where he squirmed, wanting to be free. She lowered him, supporting him under his arms so that he could walk. The soft blades of new grass tickled his toes, and he kept lifting his feet off the ground. Laughing, she put him down and let him crawl, remaining close to be sure he didn’t try to put anything in his mouth. It seemed he wanted to taste everything in the world around him.
Theophilus watched Rizpah following Caleb. Her laugh carried and made him smile. “She’s a good mother.”
Atretes sat silent and morose, his back against the oak tree. He watched her for a long moment, then rested his head back, looking north, his expression grim. Theophilus suspected Atretes was just beginning to realize the monumental task he had set for a woman carrying a child on her back, a child bound to get bigger and even more active and demanding along the way.
The sun set, and Theophilus built a fire. He and Rizpah shared devotions of Scriptures and songs. Uncomfortable, Atretes rose and left them, seeking the solitude of a distant copse of trees. He returned later and watched Rizpah feed Caleb a portion of her own grain gruel. When the babe was replete, he wanted to play. Intrigued by the flickering fire, he crawled toward it.