Warring Desires (The Herod Chronicles Book 3)

by Wanda Ann Thomas

  Gabriel’s eyes flicked to Shoshana briefly, then back to the boys. “We don’t always get what we want.”

  Shoshana dipped her chin and drew swirls on her tunic, trying not to regret she hadn’t married a man as good and thoughtful and handsome as Gabriel.

  The thought of Gabriel returning to Herod’s camp bothered her beyond selfish concerns. There was more danger waiting for him there than battles and swords. She and her grandfather had warned Gabriel and Leonidas not to trust Rahm, but they hadn’t gone far enough. She couldn’t allow Gabriel and Leonidas to walk blindly into trouble.

  Which presented new problems. How many secrets should she confess? What would Gabriel do with the information? And what if Rahm found out she’d talked? He might follow through on his threat to take Jacob under his wing.

  CHAPTER 15

  Gabriel rolled his tense shoulders. Seated on mats with Leonidas and Shoshana and the others partaking of a simple meal while they waited for the sun to set, Gabriel could hardly believe his ears. “Rahm is a double spy?”

  For simple mule train drivers, Noach ben Ehud’s family was a bundle of surprises, such as learning last evening they came from a priestly family, albeit a humble and disgraced line. Gabriel’s first thought had been foolish. That makes one less obstacle to marrying Shoshana. Yes, the time had come for him to start thinking about remarrying, but a Samaritan woman who had been abandoned by her husband was not an acceptable match.

  Adding to his recklessness, he’d continued to entertain the notion of marrying Shoshana throughout the Shabbat morning and afternoon. Chatting with Noach and the others, he continually watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to resist by reminding himself she was the last woman he should look at. And now with the Shabbat rest drawing to a close and this new revelation about Rahm hanging in the air, he immediately jumped to calculating the impact it would have on his ability to make Shoshana his wife.

  “Who does Rahm spy for besides Herod?” Gabriel asked.

  Noticeably uncomfortable, Noach shifted and cleared his throat. “High Priest Hasmond.”

  Leonidas gasped. “Rahm will be a dead man if Herod learns the truth.”

  “Rahm’s recklessness puts you in grave danger too,” Gabriel said. Explanation enough for the family being on edge.

  Noach’s lips tightened. “My granddaughter and I agreed you should know. We don’t want to see Rahm’s mischief bring harm to you.”

  Admiring their selfless concern for his welfare, Gabriel wished to repay the kindness. “Surely something can be done about Rahm? I could inform Herod.”

  The color drained from Shoshana’s face. ”If Herod doesn’t believe you, and Rahm learns we told you...”

  “You believe telling Herod would be a mistake?” Gabriel asked.

  “We have put our lives in your hands,” Noach said. “We trust you will act with due caution.”

  Honored by their trust, Gabriel nodded. “I won’t do anything foolish.”

  The lines furrowing Noach’s weathered face softened. “No, I’m certain you won’t.”

  The outside door swung open and Big Lev ducked under the lintel. “The sun is down.”

  The Shabbat watch over, Noach, Leonidas, and the boys hopped to their feet and tramped to the door in a whirlwind of bright laughter and noisy chatter.

  Shoshana joined Naomi in clearing away the dishes. Gabriel lingered. Shoshana glanced up. “Did you need something?”

  He held out the hand rubbed raw by the rope. “The bandage is stuck to the scab.”

  The light went out of Shoshana’s cinnamon eyes. She handed a small pile of plates to Naomi. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  The minor wound was a weak excuse to spend a few more moments with her. “It didn’t hurt.”

  She raised a beautiful brow and moved to his side. “It better not be half putrid.”

  He grinned. “It probably needs to soak in a bowl of water.”

  She cradled his hand and untied the ends of the bandage. “The water is probably tepid at best. I can light the oven and heat some.”

  Her copper-hued hair smelled of wild flowers. “Tepid water will do.”

  “Sit,” she ordered.

  He pulled two mats close together and sat on one. “Jacob and Isaac warned me about your strict glare.”

  “A punishment I reserve for boys and men who don’t know enough to stop talking.”

  “I’ll have to try that on Leonidas.”

  “Leonidas wasn’t who I had in mind.”

  The only woman of his acquaintance bold enough to exchange banter with him was his sister. “Elizabeth would enjoy your company.”

  Shoshana retrieved a crock from the warming compartment, filled a clay bowl with water, and turned back toward him. “I’m sorry I’ll never meet her.”

  The prospect of parting ways with Shoshana after the supplies were delivered to Herod filled Gabriel with a sense of loss. He patted the mat next to his. “Talk with me while I soak my hand.”

  She bit her lip, eyes tentative and lovely.

  Tempted to beg, he nodded at the mat. “I won’t keep you long.”

  Her hand went to her long, elegant throat. “I should help Naomi.”

  “I don’t need help,” Naomi said, sliding a platter into a cupboard. “You ought to check the wound. Make sure it’s properly healed.”

  Gabriel winked a thanks at Naomi. “You and my mother would get along well.” Would they? He believed so. His mother and father treated everyone with unfailing kindness and respect. And they’d taught him and his siblings not to judge others by the splendor of their dress or the grandeur of their homes, but by the deeper qualities of goodness, kindness, honor, and the like.

  Shoshana handed him the bowl and turned away. And he tried not to be too disappointed that she’d chosen to be wise and sensible…but she didn’t walk away. Instead she filled two mugs with warm, spiced wine, gave one to him, and sat beside him.

  He dipped his hand into the bowl of water. They sipped the wine in silence.

  Emboldened by the red wine and cloves and the tangy flavor sliding over his tongue, he stared openly at her over the rim of the mug. He wanted her to confess her deepest thoughts and, in turn, to speak openly from his heart.

  A faint blush suffused her sun-kissed cheeks. She dipped her finger in her cup, and flicked wine at him. “I don’t tolerate any foolishness from my nephews, and I won’t take any from you.”

  He blinked and laughed, and wiped his nose and cheeks. “I’ve never come across a woman like you.”

  “Stop talking nonsense before you tempt me to tear your bandage off without soaking it.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She smiled and held out her hands. “Seal your lips and let me take a look.”

  His heart kicked faster. He placed his hand in hers, palm up. Warm, tender fingers slid over sensitized skin. A wave of intense sensation shot up his arm.

  Her smile slid away. Desire-filled eyes met his. He itched to trace the curve of her jaw. Feel the pounding of her pulse against his fingertips.

  She swallowed, dropped her chin, and went to work unwinding the bandage. The room quiet except for the soft clinking of dishes, he drank in the sight of her graceful movements. She was a mix of gentleness and grit he found irresistible. Even more enticing, she had a quick mind full of secret thoughts, a private world he longed to explore in depth.

  Should he confess what he felt? Perhaps she could see a path around the mountain of obstacles standing between them. “Shoshana, we need—”

  “The wound healed cleanly,” she pronounced. “But...” she glanced up, distressed. “You have the most perfect hands I have ever seen, but now...” her voice wavered “...but now they are blistered, and you might end up with a scar.”

  He brushed his knuckle over her cheek. “Don’t be sad. They were soft. They needed toughening.”

  Shoshana’s breath caught at Gabriel’s touch. His tender warmth and close presence distracted
and disoriented. She pushed his hands away and showed him her hands. “The winter is rough on them, so they always turn red and chapped. I’d hate to see your beautiful hands become ugly.”

  He cupped her hands and rubbed his thumbs over her palms. “I see the roughness and all I can think of is how wonderful your touch would feel.”

  Her insides heated and a deep yearning clawed for freedom. She pulled free. Hands shaking, she picked up her wine, and drank deeply. “Don’t talk like that.”

  Gabriel raked his hands through his hair. “Forgive me. I went too far.”

  She swallowed. A heady mix of orange rind, cinnamon, and the remnants of her desire slid down her throat. “This could never work.”

  “Why not?”

  She hated the hurt swimming through his beautiful amber eyes, and couldn’t resist offering a bit of solace. “Even if I wasn’t married, I’m too old for you.”

  His brow furrowed. “Says who?”

  “Good night,” Naomi said from the other side of the room.

  Ashamed she’d totally forgotten about Naomi, Shoshana cringed. “Don’t go, Naomi.”

  Her sister-in-law paused at the entrance to the back rooms. “You deserve some happiness, Shosha. Listen to what Gabriel has to say.”

  “But—”

  Naomi slipped away.

  Shoshana turned her frown on Gabriel. “How old are you?”

  A red flush spread across his handsome face. “Twenty-seven.”

  Oh, to be twenty and married to a man such as Gabriel. “I turned thirty-five last month.”

  His brows rose. “No...surely you’re lying.”

  “I hate lies.”

  “I would have believed you if you said twenty-five.”

  Her intense joy at the compliment discomforted her. “Bless you. If I give you a second cup of wine, will you tell me I’m twice as lovely as Cleopatra?”

  His expression turned fierce. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  Stunned, she ducked her head. “I wish you wouldn’t talk that way.”

  He leaned closer. His warm breath purled over her ear and down her spine. “If nothing stood in the way, I would pursue you until you said yes.”

  Her pulse jumped. The dangerous pull between them was both frightening and exciting. “Even if I wasn’t too old for you, we wouldn’t suit. You are wealthy and live in a palace. I am a mule driver and live in a cave.”

  The purr of his low laugh feathered across her neck. “It is not a palace. And I am growing fond of mules and caves.”

  Her scalp prickled. “Don’t jest.”

  His sensuous mouth skimmed her ear and trailed over her jaw.

  “Gabriel...” she said breathless.

  His lips teased at the corner of her mouth. “Shoshana,” his voice held a plea.

  A shiver went through her. She yearned to taste his heated mouth and salty skin. Was this the way it was for Eve, cradling the forbidden fruit, anticipating the untold wonders to come with the first bite? But Adam and Eve had suffered the loss of everything they knew for the knowledge gained. If Shoshana fell, she would drag her grandfather and nephews with her.

  She shoved Gabriel away. “We can’t do this. We can’t repeat your father and Anina’s sin.”

  He groaned like a wounded animal and reached for her. “This is different.”

  “No, it’s worse. This is lust, not love.”

  “Shoshana, It’s more than—”

  “Don’t say it.” She covered her ears and jumped to her feet, knocking over her cup.

  Gabriel scrambled out of the way of the wine. “Shoshana, don’t go.

  Leonidas walked through the front door. “What’s wrong?”

  Gabriel shot her a pained look. “Nothing.”

  Rattled to her core, she turned and fled.

  “Shoshana,” Gabriel called after her.

  She dashed into the cold entrance to the tunnel leading to the interior caverns. Halfway down the passage, she collapsed against the rocky walls. Her breath burned in her lungs. She slid to the hard-packed floor. “Curse you, Gabriel Onias,” she whispered into the blackness. “Curse you for making me want more.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Rheumy-eyed Saad limped through the door of the antechamber to James’s drab suite of rooms carrying a stone pitcher of ritually pure water and muttering under his breath.

  James dragged himself upright on the lumpy reclining couch and frowned at his faithful slave, who normally had the patience of Job. “Is the old goat in one of his moods?”

  Saad wagged his head. “Your father ordered his new slave to count beans. Beans! The poor man is a wreck, afraid to make the smallest mistake. All so your sour-faced father can boast to his fellow Pharisees about his precise observance of a tithing law I never heard of.”

  The pustule of hate festering within his father’s house was a blight on the whole household’s happiness. If everything went well this morning, he’d put the first piece in place for murdering the most selfish man in Jerusalem. James’s resolve to strike first remained firm, unwavering during little more than a week since the entire aristocracy of priests had seen his father slap him across the face, and then make threats against Elizabeth's life.

  Stomach balking, he pushed away his breakfast plate. “Take the new man aside and explain the dim view Pharisees take of ‘gentile’ saliva. Tell him he has my permission to spit in my father’s private immersion bath.” James inspected his wine for suspicious-looking floaters. “I’m sure the other slaves do that and worse.”

  Saad hobbled to the wash stand guarding the entrance to James’s bedchamber. “When I first laid eyes on you and suffered your scowls and sour comments I thought you were a spoiled, snot-nosed boy. Now I wonder how you tolerated your father as long as you did.”

  It was hard to believe nine years had passed since the roadside attack that had left James scarred. Learning his father had instigated the events leading to the bandits’ attack on the family, James broke with his father. At the time it had been his salvation. “When I departed this house, I swore I’d never come back. He should have left me to my own designs. But he can never see past his all-consuming desire to be High Priest.”

  “Master Antipater never liked your father,” Saad said, with the same admiration he always used when speaking of his former master. “He hoped you’d find worthy men to guide you.”

  James knew men worth emulating. Good examples like Pinhas and the other hardworking stonecutters who had taken him in when he first left home, and his warrior brothers-in-law who would give their last breaths to protect his sisters, and then the deal-maker Antipater, who had made James a member of his household and sponsored his education, accounting for the six most blissful years of James’s life. “Antipater was a fine leader,” James said. “I miss him too.”

  Saad’s rheumy-eyed face lit with a grin. “He was loose with the truth at times, but nobody was better at making friends and alliances.” The slave sighed. “And he treated me well. Even when I grew feeble.”

  “A reward for your loyalty,” James said, offering what solace he could.

  Saad hugged the stone pitcher to his bony chest. “Once, when he’d had too much to drink, he apologized in tears for not freeing me when I was young and strong enough to find work and marry and have a family of my own. He said he’d meant to do it, but the time had crept up on him, until one day he looked in a mirror and realized we were both old men.” Saad shrugged frail shoulders. “Others have suffered far worse fates than me.”

  “Throwing your lot in with me didn’t work out so well for you, did it?” For reasons James couldn’t fathom, Saad had attached himself to James after Antipater’s death. So he had purchased Saad from Herod’s family after the elderly slave repeatedly assured James nothing would make him happier than giving his loyalty to James.

  “We would still be content as pigs in mud if Master Antipater hadn’t been murdered.”

  At another time James might have en
joyed a laugh over the wonderfully inappropriate porcine comparison, but the task of planning for his father’s demise took precedence. He pushed himself to this feet, trudged to Saad, and thrust his hands over the plain white wash basin.

  “Get it over with.” Perversely enough, the repeated handwashing that was a staple of the Pharisees’ quest for perpetual ritual purity always left him longing for the good, honest dirt and sweat generated by cutting stones into blocks. Today brought the disturbingly satisfying image of strangling his father with pruned, ritually pure hands.

  Saad held the pitcher over James’s hands. “There’s no need to be snippy.”

  “I’d be in a more pleasant mood if I knew how I was going to slip past my father’s watchful eyes long enough to meet with the apothecarius who will put an end to our difficulties.”

  Grim-lipped, Saad poured lukewarm water over James’s hands, not stopping until the stone-hewn vessel was empty. “Apothecarius,” Saad said, his voice a disgusted whisper. “Well, isn’t that a prettied-up name for an assassin?”

  James dried his hands on a thin, rough towel. “It’s the quickest, cleanest way.”

  The stone pitcher landed with a thud on the wash stand. “Leave it to you to make murder sound simple as tidying away the trash. What will become of me if you get yourself hung for murder?”

  “Overwhelmed as I am by your touching concern for my welfare, allow me to offer my assurances. Before I have my head severed from my neck for murder, I’ll be sure to send you into the care of one of my sisters.”

  “Do you always have to jest?”

  “Some days jesting is the only thing that keeps me from slitting my own throat,” James replied, his stomach twisting in a knot in anticipation at the next unpleasant encounter with his father. He couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t gone at each other’s throats. Turning for the door, he patted Saad’s bony arm. “But that’s no excuse for taking my bad mood out on you.”

  The slave stumped down the long, cheerless hallway, hurrying to keep up. “Now why did you touch my tunic? I swear you go out of your way to defile your hands as quickly as I wash them.”