Unspoken by Francine Rivers Read Free Book Online Page B

did you find out?”
    “The woman’s name is Bathsheba.”
    “Bathsheba?” Why did that name sound so familiar? “Bathsheba . . .”
    “She is Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam and the wife of Uriah the Hittite.”
    Oh no! David felt his stomach drop. He remembered a skinny little girl who used to sit on Ahithophel’s knee and stare at him across the fire. No! It couldn’t be! Little Bath- sheba, who, as a child, had worshiped him and followed him to the stream at En-gedi. “I want to talk with you.” Her heart had been in her eyes. Bathsheba, married to one of his best and most reliable friends, daughter of a man he trusted and who trusted him, granddaughter of Ahithophel, Israel’s most able military adviser. Could anything be worse? He remembered looking into her eyes on her wedding day and feeling as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He’d made sure from that day on never to look at her again!
    He expelled a hoarse laugh. Turning, he gripped the back of his neck. The old weariness and depression rose up once again. “You may go, Joram.”
    “Is there anything you wish for, my lord the king?”
    David clenched his teeth. “Nothing I can have.”
    “Nothing is out of your reach, Sire. You are the king. Whatever you want is yours.”
    David lowered his hand and raised his head. He was the king. Furthermore, his army was miles away at Rabbah. Uriah, Eliam, and Ahithophel had been gone for months and would not return for many more to come. His heart began to pound. What if he did summon Bathsheba to his private chambers? What if they did find pleasure in one another’s arms? What harm could one night do? Who would ever know?
    His desire for Bathsheba burned hotter.
    “What is your wish, Sire?”
    “Bring her to me.” He felt a pang of guilt as he spoke his lust aloud, but he quickly squelched it with thoughts of the night ahead. Still, he must be prudent. “Wait until dark before you go for her, and take another soldier you know can keep a secret.”
    “And if the woman resists?”
    “She won’t.” Bathsheba had loved him for years. She’d followed him around the camps at Adullam and En-gedi. He’d thought she was a pesky little fly then, but now . . .
    “But if she does . . . ?”
    She was a common woman and he was a king. “My order stands.” Joram bowed and left. David knew Bathsheba would come to him. She had been extending him an invitation when she had so boldly met his eyes during her bath. If she regretted her impulse, he would take pleasure in swaying her.
    It would be hours yet before Bathsheba was brought to his bedchamber. Time enough to bathe and anoint himself with scented oils. Time enough to order a small feast prepared. Time enough to burn incense to tease her senses. Time enough to think about the pleasures of the night ahead.
    Time enough for sin to conquer him.

    Bathsheba spent the rest of the afternoon in her chamber, weeping and wondering how she would ever have the courage to show her face before the king again. She dressed in a loose embroidered robe that hid every curve of her body. She brushed her hair until her scalp hurt. Then, holding the brush against her chest, she rocked and sobbed. Time hadn’t dissolved her love for David. This afternoon when she realized he was the one on the roof looking down at her, all the old feelings had risen up and swept over her again.
    Someone tapped at her door. “My lady?” came the muffled voice of her maid.
    “Go away!”
    “There’s a soldier at the door, my lady!” The girl’s voice was shaking with alarm. “He said you must come!”
    A soldier? Bathsheba rose quickly. She could think of only one reason a soldier would come to her door. Uriah was wounded or dead! Uttering a sob, Bathsheba threw open her door, brushed past her maid, and hurried through the house, her handmaiden on her heels.
    The soldier stood just inside her door, but he wasn’t dusty from travel. And he wore a palace guard’s uniform.