Michal by Jill Eileen Smith Page A

“Well, my friend. I have a wife I must go home to.”
    David stood. “Good night, my lord.”
    Jonathan strode from the banquet hall while David moved in the opposite direction. He shivered, his warm blood cooled by the high granite walls of the passageways, which led through the palace toward the soldiers’ quarters. He tugged on the folds of his robe.
    “David. Psst . . . David.”
    David’s hands stilled, and his head twisted from side to side. “Who’s there?”
    A mirage with luxurious raven hair, doelike dark brown eyes, and lips the shade of wild poppies slipped from the shadows. She wore a pure white tunic and a royal blue robe tied with a golden sash, covering a shapely, slender frame. David’s heart kicked into a hard gallop, and he struggled to swallow. The scent of sweet perfume wafted from her skin.
    “Michal?”
    “Yes, David, it’s me,” she whispered.
    She moved closer to him, making his pulse thunder in his ears. Could this be the child of Saul—the one who two months ago would not have turned his knees to mush?
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I need to speak with you. You must listen to me.” Her gaze darted in all directions, and she stepped within a handbreadth of his chest. When she rested her delicate hand on his arm, he thought his heart would stop. “My father. You must be careful around him.”
    David groped to understand her meaning. Every nerve ending screamed for him to dig his fingers through her hair and bury his face against her neck. He took in a deep, steadying mouthful of air. “What are you talking about?”
    Michal’s breath touched his neck as she leaned against his ear. His blood raced through his veins, and he had to force his mind to focus on her words. “I heard the virgins’ song. The ‘Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.’ ” She looked at him then, her heart in her eyes.
    “What about it?” David managed.
    “My father hated it.” She held his gaze.
    Raging temptation tugged at him. She was doing strange things to his senses. “How do you know this?” He stepped back a pace, fighting for inner control.
    “I know my father.” She stepped closer and placed one hand on his chest. “He will try to harm you, David. He is jealous beyond reason. I could see it in his eyes.”
    The steady hammering of his heart throbbed in his throat, and her touch made heat flood his face. On impulse he closed his fingers over her hand and lifted it from his chest. “What do you suggest I do?”
    The shock of his touch registered across her flawless face, and David watched her bronze skin blush crimson and her eyes lower. Was she attracted to him, as he was to her? But he was promised to her sister.
    “I don’t know. Just be careful, please.”
    He felt her cool fingers against his skin, and he squeezed them once before releasing his hold. “Thank you. I will.”
    She gave him a bright smile, then turned abruptly and hurried around a corner and out of sight.

    David settled on a woolen mat on the hard ground, trying to sleep. Images of Michal floated through his thoughts. The girl was gorgeous—and tonight seemed even prettier than her sister. And the things she did to his senses still made his blood race like hot oil through his veins. The soft scent of myrrh clung to his tunic where her hand had rested, and he clenched his fingers open and closed, imagining the soft tendrils of her raven hair flowing between them. He had to stop thinking like this.
    He flopped onto his back, tucked his arms beneath his head, and stared at the wooden beams running along the ceiling. The barracks door creaked open, and David’s eyes darted to the moonlight spilling into the room. Footsteps tiptoed closer.
    “David?”
    He rose up on one elbow. “Yes?”
    “Come with me.” David recognized one of the king’s personal guards motioning him forward.
    Without question, David stood.
    “And bring your lyre.”
    David pulled on his robe, quickly tying the belt,