Unspoken by Francine Rivers

Startled, Bathsheba stopped. “Why are you here?”
    The corner of his mouth turned up. “The king has summoned you, Lady Bathsheba.”
    “Summoned me?” Confused, she stared back at him. “The king?”
    “Yes. The king. ” He stepped back and extended his hand toward the open front door. Another soldier was standing outside looking in at her. Bathsheba began to shake. She was a little girl again, crouching behind a boulder as David reprimanded her. Her cheeks caught fire.
    “My lady.” The handmaiden moaned. “Oh, my lady.”
    Bathsheba turned to her quickly and grasped her hands. “Hush, now. The king won’t harm me, Hatshepsut. He’s known my father and grandfather for many years.” Could that be the reason he was summoning her? “Perhaps he has news of them. Go quickly and bring me my shawl.” The girl ran to do her bidding while Bathsheba stood, filled with anxiety, before the palace guard. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he waited, head up, eyes straight ahead. Was it bad news from Rabbah? “Has the king summoned my mother as well?” Why would the king bother himself to personally inform two women they had lost loved ones in the war?
    “Your mother?” The guard spoke wryly. “I think not.”
    “Then can you tell me why the king wishes to see me?”
    He looked at her then, and the expression in his eyes made heat rise into her cheeks again.
    Her handmaiden returned with a shawl. Heart pounding, Bathsheba took it and draped it over her head and across one shoulder so that her face wouldn’t be seen. As she went out the door, the guards fell in on either side of her. It didn’t occur to her until she was near the palace entrance that she was still wearing the loose embroidered robe she normally wore only inside her own house.
    “This way!” The guard jerked his head and led her toward a pathway around to a side entrance used only by servants. If there had been any question in her mind as to the clandestine reason for the king’s summons, or her social standing in his eyes, she had none now. Tears of shame pricked her eyes. She had only herself to blame for this situation. She kept her head down and her face covered as she went in through the servants’ entrance. She walked through the palace kitchen, the servants’ quarters and corridors, and up a flight of stairs, looking neither to the right nor the left. The guards stopped before a door. One knocked lightly, and the other stood to one side.
    The moment the door opened and Bathsheba looked up, she forgot all about the guards. David’s gaze was fixed upon her.
    When he smiled and held out his hand, she took it, her breath catching when his fingers closed warm and firm around hers. He drew her into his private chamber as he gave orders to the guard to keep watch. “No one is to disturb me.” And then David closed the door behind her. Her heart leaped and bounded like a rabbit fleeing for its life. He still had hold of her hand, and there seemed to be no indication that he intended to let go. “I’m glad you came.”
    “Did I have any choice?”
    “You did choose.”
    He kissed her hand, his eyes smiling into hers. “Why do you cover your face, when you’re more beautiful than the sun or the moon?”
    When she raised her hand to hold her shawl in place, he inclined his head slightly. “Come. I’ve had a meal prepared for us. Let me serve you.”
    The air was filled with the sweet scent of incense. Cushions were scattered on the floor. A large bed loomed across the room. Food was spread over a long table. “How many were you expecting?”
    He laughed, and the throaty sound made her tremble. “Only you, my sweet.”
    “I’m not very hungry.” Gathering her courage, she looked at him. “Do you know who I am?”
    “Of course.” His eyes caressed her face. “You’re the little girl who used to stare across the fire at me. Do you remember following me to the stream at En-gedi?”
    “I’m not a little girl anymore.