Читать книгу Jewel of Persia - Roseanna M. White - Страница 8

Xerxes watched realization light Kasia’s face and thoughts roll through her eyes. She was as beautiful as he remembered, the changes his custodian made enhancing what captured him from the start. He evened out his smile and took another step forward. “Haman did not tell you I was the one with him?”

She shook her head, eyes still wide. “He said nothing. And Hegai assumed it was your brother.”

He chuckled—and determined to express his displeasure to Haman. “So you thought that I, as brother to the king, had . . . what? Told this brother of your extraordinary beauty and relinquished my interest to the crown?”

Kasia eased forward, her gaze on his face. “Something like that.”

“You ascribe to me far too much selflessness. Even were I my brother, I would not have given you up. Not with the way you have been haunting my thoughts.”

She kept moving toward him, albeit slowly. He caught the glimmer of a torc on her arm under the sheer fabric—the torc he had given her. Ah, yes. He had haunted her thoughts as well. She shook her head, sending glossy dark waves swaying. “I dreamt of you. But I did not realize it was you, the king . . .”

And therein lay her greatest allure. He could not remember ever meeting someone who did not know who he was. But it was evident from their first exchange that she had no idea about his identity. Her interest was in him. The man, not the king. A distinction he did not realize he wanted until he saw the flame of desire in her eyes unrelated to his title or wealth.

He smiled at her and held out a hand. Her pace increased from hesitant to eager, though she stopped before him without touching him. In her eyes he saw the same battle waged ten days ago. Modesty against instinct, curiosity against restraint.

He rested his hand against her cheek and knew the passion would win. She would not understand it enough to curb it. “And what would you have done if I were my brother, and you met me again after becoming wife to the king?”

Her eyes slid shut. “I would have prayed to God for the strength to resist these things you make me feel.”

Did she know how her words made desire curl up inside him? “And would your God have granted it?”

Her eyes opened again, and now they smiled along with her well-shaped lips. “He would have. My God values covenants—he would have helped me be faithful to my husband.”

“Then let us be grateful I am your husband, so you may be faithful without resisting these things I make you feel.” He returned her smile and then, unable to help himself, leaned down to brush his lips over hers.

His own reaction he knew and expected. The surge of blood through his veins, the headiness of indulgence. It was hers that interested him more. He felt the quaver that arched her back and lifted her up onto her toes. When he anchored her with an arm around her waist, she slid one of hers around his neck, rested the other against his chest. It was an invitation he had no desire to refuse—he deepened the kiss.

She responded with a sweet hesitancy underscored by fire and even made a noise of protest when he pulled away a moment later. He gazed into her eyes, clouded now, and smiled. “I knew my impatience was well placed. I would not have wanted to wait until after the war to see you again.”

“I am glad you were insistent.” She reached up to trace the contours of his face. Her expression reflected both confusion and contentment. “I could not understand why you were, though. Even realizing who you are . . . Hegai said it was my beauty, but you have wives already more beautiful. And some of the virgins awaiting their turn with you—they are stunning.”

A laugh slipped out. “I must say, none of my wives have ever sung the others’ praises.” He kissed her again, softly. “Perhaps, were you simply standing there among them, I would not call you the most beautiful. But I knew the first moment I saw you that I must have you. You, above anyone else.”

She stroked her fingers over his beard. “Why?”

“Why?” He caught her hand, kissed it. “Because when I followed the sound of your cry and saw you in that river, there was utter rapture on your face. As if you had given yourself totally to the sensation of cold water, as if that single moment were enough to live for. I want you to feel that for me, to give yourself to me that fully. Will you do that, lovely Kasia?”

She smiled when he said her name as he had at the river. “I will. I cannot do otherwise.”

Just as he hoped. “Then when you spotted me, you leapt back onto the bank to protect your sister. You made each decision in the next few moments based upon what would benefit her and keep her safe. I want you to be so devoted, so dedicated to me. Will you promise that, lovely Kasia?”

Her smile went luminous. “I will. Even were you not you, I would pledge such loyalty to my husband. But because you are you . . . that much and more.”

Just as he wanted. “When you spoke of your father, in spite of disagreeing with some of his principles love shone in your eyes. I want you to love me as thoroughly as your husband. As a man, rather than a king. Will you give me that as well, lovely Kasia?”

She lifted her brows. “That kind of love requires time, tending, a full, open heart. But given how much I feel for you already, after so short an acquaintance . . . I think it safe to promise I will. Shall I let you know when I do?”

Ah, how quickly he had come to treasure that amused smile of hers. “Please. Do you want to know the final thing that sealed your fate?”

She looped her arms around his neck. He would not have expected such ease already, but he would not argue. “Of course.”

“You said you were a Jew proudly. I want you to be my wife as proudly, to serve me from your heart. Will you give such allegiance to both king and empire?”

Now her face hardened. Would she be surprised to know he was glad of that? Glad she stiffened in his arms? “Will I be your wife proudly? Yes. Will I take pride in what my husband accomplishes for his empire? Yes. But will I give you the same allegiance I give Jehovah? I cannot. You are my husband and king. But he is my God.”

He slid a hand into her hair and urged her head back. “Good. I would have been disappointed if you promised to give up such a crucial part of yourself. And would not have believed you, which would have cast your other oaths in doubt.”

She relaxed—until he pressed his mouth to her neck. Then her pulse kicked up, and her hands gripped the back of his robe, his hair. “So the king values honesty.”

“The king hears lies all day. From you, lovely Kasia, I want only truth. For you, I want not to be the king. Call me Xerxes, my love.”

“Xerxes.” His name sounded like music on her tongue. And when she looked into his eyes, he knew that she offered all she was.

For the first time in his life, he held a treasure all his gold could not buy. But somehow he held it anyway.

He never intended to let go.

~*~

The moment Kasia awoke she became aware of the solid arms around her, the broad chest upon which her head rested. Contentment flooded her.

Xerxes shifted onto his side and held her close, leaned down to kiss her. His kisses were like strong wine the night before, lulling her into a realm between waking and sleep, where sensation was magnified. She wished it were still night so that she could lose herself again. But reality must return with the morning light. He would have to put back on his kingly robes and attend to the many guests in the palace, the business of managing an empire. She would have to get settled into her new home among the other wives.

He chuckled against her mouth. “What thought troubles you, my love? You tensed up.”

“I am sorry.” She summoned her smile again. “It is only that I hate the thought of leaving you.”

His eyes sparkled, his lips turned up. “Perhaps the king should command the sun to reverse itself.”

She chuckled and snuggled against him. “There are some things even the king of kings cannot do.”

“Sad but true. We will be interrupted soon. And I see new worry in those captivating eyes. Tell me what it is so that I can erase it.”

The stroke of his hand on her back made her smile. “I know not what to expect now.”

“Ah. The drawback of cutting your preparation short.” He kissed her nose. Her heart nearly burst at the sweetness of the gesture. “Well, my love, in a few moments the servants shall slip into the room to help us dress. Then I shall go back to strategizing my invasion of Greece, and you shall settle into your new rooms, which shall be second only to the queen’s.”

She blinked at how easily he spoke about going to war. “Are these rooms not occupied by another wife?”

Xerxes arched a brow. “The best ones are, yes.”

“Could I not take an empty one somewhere?”

“Kasia.” Though he chuckled, confusion shadowed his amusement. “It is how my favor is made known.”

“I know, but . . . the exceptions made for me already have not settled well with the others. I am still uncomfortable in all this wealth . . . and I do not relish being moved with each new addition.”

His gaze was both fond and wary. “You think you will be so easily displaced from my favor?”

“I was warned to expect it.”

“You are so open.” He chuckled and then paused, contemplation in his eyes. “It will not be understood—but then, I enjoy confusing everyone now and again. You may pick whatever room you want, lovely Kasia, and you may keep it as your own whenever we are in Susa. I will give the instruction as soon as the servants arrive. For now, give me a kiss to last me until I see you tonight.”

“Tonight?” She knew her excitement saturated her voice—and knew it was probably unseemly. A wife of the king would be expected to graciously accept whatever was handed her, be it more attention or less.

But he looked pleased, so she cared not what was expected. “You shall indeed. Now—that kiss.”

She gave it willingly, and sighed when the sound of the door opening intruded on her senses. Xerxes pressed one last kiss onto her lips and then pulled away. He rose without any inhibitions, and his servants leisurely draped a robe around him. There were far too many eyes present for Kasia to get up so easily, but her maidservants seemed to understand this. One of them approached with clothing and a small smile.

Kasia sat up, her back to the rest of the room, and reached for the tunic. Her motions halted when Xerxes demanded, “What is that?”

His voice sounded harsh, cold. Cloth clutched to her chest, she craned her head around. “Pardon?”

His gaze narrowed upon her side. “You have bruises, and they look only a few days old. What happened?”

“I bumped into some of the statuary.” Hopefully her smile looked self-deprecating, nothing more. “I am sure my grace will improve as I grow used to my surroundings.”

He planted his hands on his hips. “Tell me whose hand caused these bumps. I will see them punished.”

“Not on my account, please. It is nothing. I have gotten worse by playing with my little brothers.”

“You are too forgiving, Kasia. First you praise the others’ beauty, now you defend their cruelty.” He held her gaze for a long moment.

She begged him silently to relent. She could not bring trouble on the heads of those other women, whose resentment was perfectly understandable. But if she refused to give names if he asked for them directly, he would have no choice but to punish her.

Xerxes sighed, and his face relaxed. “As you wish, my love. But be assured the story of your forgiveness will reach the ears of whoever did this to you, so that they realize my displeasure is tempered only by your kindness.” He flicked his gaze to one of the servants, who nodded.

“Thank you.” She gave him a smile and slipped the provided garment over her head. Somehow she suspected it would take a lot more forgiveness than that to hew herself a place here.

He moved to tenderly cup her face and leaned down to kiss her. In spite of their audience, Kasia allowed herself to soak up all he poured into the touch. It would have to be enough to sustain her through the day.

A moment later he swept from the room, and with him went her breath. It sucked out in a sigh that left her deflated. The same maid who had smiled at her stepped close to her side. “Shall we show you to the house of wives, lady?”

Kasia shook herself and studied the servant. She was probably a few years older than Kasia, with features that looked European. “Certainly. What is your name?”

“Desma.” She dipped her head.

“It is good to meet you, Desma. And the rest of you?”

The other four maidservants introduced themselves, and then the two eunuchs. Kasia suspected it would take a day or two to remember them. They fell into formation around her and moved forward, leaving her little choice but to go where they did.

An attempt not to gawk at the hallways they traveled proved futile. How did one man amass such wealth? Everywhere, gold and silver and bronze, the finest polished stone, the rarest wood.

As they turned a corner, she spotted a statue carved of fine cypress that she would have loved to stop and examine. The figure itself held no interest for her, but the grain was exquisite. Her father would have considered finding such a piece of wood a treasure in itself.

Her nostrils flared, and she inclined her heart to Jehovah. Prayed that he would bless her father, her mother, her siblings. Esther and Mordecai.

It took several minutes to reach the separate palace that Desma introduced as her new home. But as soon as they stepped inside, Kasia smiled. Children’s laughter and squeals sounded, along with mothers’ and nurses’ admonitions. Her gaze settled on the courtyard, where a group of well-dressed women clustered with rhytons of wine in their hands and a banquet of fruit and bread on a table between them.

How long before she saw them as her equals? Would she ever?

Desma stepped closer to her side. “Shall I show you the available chambers, mistress?”

Kasia swallowed down the rising panic and directed the question toward God. A peace settled over her. “No. Take me to the meanest one.”

Desma’s spine straightened. “Mistress?”

“I have enemies enough here, Desma. I will not create more by putting myself above any of them.”

“But you are above them, mistress. The king has never given any of his wives the choice of their chambers.”

“Perhaps not. But since he has given it to me, it is my prerogative to choose the place most comfortable.” She smiled, wondering if this girl realized that until a week ago, their situations were not so different. “I daresay even the vilest of these rooms will be far more luxurious than to what I am accustomed. In my father’s house, I was fortunate to share a room with only my four sisters and not also with my five brothers.”

The corner of Desma’s mouth tugged up. “Ten of you? Your mother must be a woman of limitless patience.”

“And limitless love.” Who was helping her with the wee ones now? The twins were the next eldest girls, but they were too involved with their own thoughts. Ah well, they would have to step out of their private world. At least Eglah and Sarai were well behaved. The younger boys, though . . . they delighted in giving the girls grief.

Desma sighed. “Very well. This way.”

They skirted the courtyard and moved down a hallway lined with doors. Desma stopped before a closed one at the end, and another of the maidservants—Leda, was it?—tugged the iron ring to open it. The taller of the eunuchs, Theron, entered first and took account of the chamber before nodding. The group broke their ranks so that she might enter.

It was a dim room, the only windows low and small. But the scent of flowers wafted in from them, and the appointments were blessedly simple.

Desma shook her head. “It is too close, surely. There is another—”

“No, it is perfect.” She noted two other chambers connected to this one, probably intended for the servants or perhaps a child or two. Put together, it was as large as her father’s house. “Perfect.”

Though her surprise was colored with disbelief, Desma relented with a tilt of her head. “As you wish, mistress. We will have your belongings brought over.”

Three of the maids scurried away, and the eunuchs took up position in the corners of the room. Kasia looked around, wondering how a wife was to pass her days when she had no household, no mending or cooking, and no babes.

“Well, this is most unusual.”

At the vaguely familiar voice of Queen Atossa, Kasia spun back to the doorway. Xerxes’ mother stood in all her regal splendor with a lifted brow and a crooked smile. “Here you are in the lowliest chamber of the house of wives, yet my son assures me you are all he hoped and more.”

When the queen mother took a step into the small room, her presence seemed to fill it so much Kasia felt she should kneel in deference. She allowed herself only to dip her head. “He gave me leave to choose my own rooms.”

“And you chose this?”

“As you see.”

Atossa shook her head, but her face reflected approval. “You are an odd girl, Kasia. And I have not seen the king smile so brightly since he was a boy. Come, share the meal with me and some of the other women I think you will like. We will introduce you to life here—and teach you how to avoid Amestris, though you will have to appear at her feast this week.”

More relieved than excited, Kasia followed her new matriarch out the door.