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  The memory of Dvorah’s charm in Leisha’s hand paraded through my mind.

  “I tried so hard to stay away from you after we delivered the lambs. I made excuses to Eben constantly and stayed in the fields as much as possible to avoid the chance of crossing your path. But my loneliness only fueled desire for you. You appeared in front of me that day at the stream like an apparition from my dreams, and in that moment of weakness, I gave in.”

  “But why did you not tell me this earlier? Why keep me in the dark?”

  He hooked a hand around the back of his neck and closed his eyes. “I have nothing to say in my defense. I wanted you as my wife. My sons need you as their mother. You love them like their own did not. I did not want to risk losing you.”

  He looked up, his gaze imploring. “Please. Forgive me. I beg of you, extend me mercy. If not for my sake, then for the sake of Dov and Ari. They would be devastated if I ruined this.” He closed the gap between us and gripped my hand. “I could never want Dvorah, Shira. It is you I love.”

  I studied his face and the depths of his amber eyes and found no falseness within them. A surge of exquisite pain spread from the center of my chest. “But I am nothing. I am plain, and small, and fearful. Dvorah has strength. She has beauty that I could never match. She can give you . . . a future that I never can.”

  Slowly, and with a question in his eyes, he moved his hands to my face. The contact of his work-worn palms on my cheeks turned my insides to melted honey.

  “How . . .” he whispered, and the sweetness of his breath enticed me to lean in. “How can you say such things? You are nothing if not brave. You were ready to marry me, although I gave you no cause to trust me. Reva told me how you fought to save Leisha that night. A small, fearful woman would have done no such thing. Eben bragged about how you stood tall against the men at the trading wagons in Kiya’s defense. You are brave, and the most beautiful woman in the world to me. You are my future.”

  I could not breathe. Could not answer. Could not keep my thoughts in order.

  Ayal’s revelations shone a light on my own secrets, and I knew that I could not hold the most important one in any longer. No matter what my mother said. I inhaled, savoring the last breath before I laid everything before him.

  “I am barren, Ayal. There will be no children from my body.” The words dropped like boulders into the space between us. My head felt feather-light as I braced for his angry response. His accusation of deception. His back to turn.

  But instead of pushing me away, he pulled me closer with a sigh, enveloping me in his strong arms. The smell of his work and his skin tempted me to invite the intoxicating mixture deep into my lungs. With his lips against my forehead and compassion in his voice, he spoke the words I could never have anticipated. “Oh, my beautiful songbird . . . I already know.”

  35

  Startled by a call from outside, I yanked myself away from Ayal, although the movement felt like prying open my eyelids in the midst of a delicious dream. Eben stuck his head in the door and looked back and forth between us with teasing suspicion. Heat rushed up my neck to set my face on fire.

  “I hate to burst in on this intimate discussion but, Ayal, Tomek is here. Some animal has attacked your flock. We must go.”

  I stepped forward, palms up. “I want to help.” Expecting Ayal to refuse, I steeled myself, preparing to plead. I wasn’t yet ready to watch him walk away.

  Instead, he offered a pleased smile and his hand. “Come, then.”

  We hastened through camp, led into the darkness by his sense of direction toward the wadi and the glimmer of blue light from the mountain. Eben and Tomek had gone ahead of us with a torch to light their way. Ayal explained that two of his brothers were watching over the flock tonight, but there had been sightings of a big cat, possibly a leopard, the last few nights.

  Strange that an animal would dare approach our vast numbers. But perhaps a wildcat would risk anything if it were hungry enough. And there was plenty of food to be had among us—flocks of sheep, goats, and cattle covered every spare inch in the valley. Some had even spread to the valleys nearby, where scrub brush grew in abundance and bright grasses had sprung up after the recent rains. Mosheh, the shepherd, knew the right place to bring his people.

  Surefooted, Ayal picked his way up the wadi toward the bray of sheep echoing against the rose-granite walls. His family had been fortunate to claim this area; although the flock was panicked, they were unable to escape into the night. Without releasing me, Ayal slipped through the flock, pushing a few aside with his hip, but speaking calm reassurances to them as he did so.

  With his back to us, Eben held his large torch aloft, illuminating a horrific scene. Yonah and Tomek were at the center of the flock, on their knees, covered in blood. Panic for all three of them spiked through me until my attention was drawn to the source of the blood—two sheep on the ground in front of them, struggling, bleating pitiful cries.

  “What happened?” Ayal strode toward them. I tried to slip my hand away, unsure of the affectionate display in front of his brothers, but he only gripped me tighter.

  Yonah glanced up, a hint of annoyance curving his brow as he took in the sight of us, but he jerked his chin toward a dark shadow sprawled on the ground nearby. “A leopard. Took them down before we even knew what hit us.”

  Horror sprang into my throat. These poor sheep. With dreadful silence a wildcat could sneak up on man or beast with swift and disastrous consequences. A tremble made its way through me as I imagined Ayal facing down such a monster in the black night. He squeezed my hand before releasing me. “I need to help, but stay close.”

  The two sheep were soaked in blood, their sides shredded by the leopard’s claws. Would either have a chance at survival?

  With sure hands, Ayal examined first one and then the other. He pointed at the darker brown one. “This one is too far gone, but the other should be all right if we can clean out her wound. I’d hate to lose another pregnant ewe.”

  Yonah and Tomek lifted the other sheep and moved it to the edge of the flock. I turned my back to avoid the purpose of Tomek’s knife glinting in the torchlight. I braced for a cry, a sound that announced the death of the wounded animal, but only the bleats of the agitated flock met my ears.

  Ayal knelt by the tawny ewe, holding her neck to the ground with one hand as he doused the wound with a pot of water. The frightened animal thrashed against his ministrations, kicking and trying to get her feet underneath her. One of her hooves slammed into Ayal’s leg, and he groaned. So blinded by pain and terror, the ewe could not understand that Ayal was helping her. He placed his knee on her back legs to pin them down, but her front hooves scraped against the rocky ground in a frantic motion.

  Desperate to help, I mimicked Ayal’s position with a knee on her shoulder and my hands against her neck. With every ounce of strength I had, I pressed down to keep her still. When I felt a slight release of the tension in her neck, I placed one hand on her face, stroking her forehead with firm but gentle strokes. “Calm down, ima. Ayal will take good care of you. Calm down.” And because the instinct was uncontrollable, I sang under my breath.

  Just as Ziba had done, the sheep began to relax, her white-rimmed eye suddenly focusing on me and her panic abating. She stopped trying to escape and allowed me to hold her down.

  “You are beyond description, Shira. I may have to bring you to the fields with me every day.” Ayal’s smile chased away the chill of the breezy night.

  “That she is,” my brother said with a knowing smirk. “You chose the right woman. Too bad I had to bribe you with five donkeys to get you to take her.” He winked.

  “Only five donkeys?” I lifted my chin in defiance. “I had to give Kiya eight to persuade her to take you on.”

  Eben threw back his head and laughed, the echo of it bouncing off the cliffs.

  “Oh, now, Ayal, I think you might have a sharp-tongued one here.” Tomek came into view, scrubbing at his bloody arms with a dirty rag. Embarra
ssment flooded through me. What could have possessed me to joke so openly with Eben in front of these men?

  Tomek flashed me a grin. “I like her.”

  Swiping my forehead with the back of my hand, I fought a smile as I looked down at the ewe. After dressing the wound, Ayal sat back on his heels and allowed the sheep to scramble to her feet. Although her coat was stained, the cuts were fairly shallow. The leopard must not have gotten a good hold on her.

  “We are fortunate there weren’t more losses,” Ayal said. “How did you bring that cat down?”

  Tomek scratched his chin, bravado in full force. “The thing had one of our rams in its jaws and was dragging it up onto that ledge.” He pointed at a low outcropping. “Yonah distracted it just long enough that I was able to shoot it with an arrow before it slipped away.”

  “You two were lucky it wasn’t you in its jaws.” Ayal pointed at an overturned wine flask near the flickering campfire with a raised brow.

  Tomek waved his hand in the air. “Oh, don’t you worry, the scream of that cat sobered me up right away. I’ll never forget that sound as long as I live. It yowled like some vicious desert she-devil.”

  Shaking his head with a sigh, Ayal washed his hands in what was left of the water, dried them on his tunic, and then reached out for my hand. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the contact until my fingers were braided with his cool ones again.

  “Let’s go, Shira. And let these fools clean up their mess.” Ayal moved to leave, but Yonah grabbed his arm from behind.

  I had never been so close to Ayal’s oldest brother. The silver that threaded his beard surprised me, and I wondered just how many years separated the two. Yonah looked more like a father than a brother, in my estimation.

  “This young woman did a fine job of helping tonight, Ayal.” Yonah looked down at me and smiled. “I don’t know what the issue was between you and Marah this morning, but you can be assured, you won’t hear of it again.”

  I dropped my eyes, mortified that he knew of the ordeal with the necklace. “It was a misunderstanding, I assure you.”

  “I do not doubt that one bit.” Yonah spat into the dirt and pointed a thumb at the dead cat. “My wife is just like that leopard—on the prowl at times, always looking for her next victim.”

  He guffawed, and the sound echoed off the walls of the wadi. “But if you show her as much strength as you showed with that ewe, she’ll retract her claws. You’ll see.”

  Eben led the way out of the wadi with his torch, Ayal and I trailing behind its glow. Although I had just witnessed the aftermath of a wild animal attack, Ayal’s nearness enveloped me in a feeling of safety that I had never before experienced.

  Just before we reached the edge of camp, Ayal slowed his steps, then stopped and turned toward me. “Before I take you back, I must hear you say it.”

  “Say what?”

  He drew me in, his other hand searching out mine. “That you forgive me.”

  Purple darkness curled itself around us as Eben and his torch continued on. My brother must have the utmost trust in Ayal to leave us with only the stars to keep watch. I swallowed, waiting for the familiar fear to prickle in the back of my throat. It did not come. All hesitation was gone, replaced with the patter of my heart as I reveled in the affection glowing is his amber eyes and the rush of madness in my limbs at the feel of his skin against mine. He had wronged me, he had wronged his wife. But I could not ignore the sincere repentance I saw in his expression.

  “I cannot condone what you did to Leisha,” I said. “No matter what she did to you, you had no right to stray from your vows.”

  He stiffened, and I feared he would pull away.

  “However—”

  “Oh, how I love that word . . .” Relief gushed in his voice.

  I stifled a smile and tugged at our joined hands. “However, I believe that you are truly sorry. But please promise me . . .”

  “Anything.”

  I took a minute to gather my thoughts, and my courage, before proceeding. I edged my words with a hint of warning. “Promise me that you will be faithful, whatever comes. No matter how strong Kiya thinks I am, I could not endure such a thing.”

  He sucked in a breath as if stung by my entreaty, and I began to apologize for my harsh tone.

  “No.” He lifted a palm to interrupt. “I deserved that.” He dropped his hands to his hips and bowed his head, as if contemplating his answer. He lifted sober eyes to mine. “I vow to you, before Yahweh himself”—he gestured to the Cloud above the mountain and then wove his fingers into mine—“that you are the only woman I will ever love, and I pledge my heart and my fidelity to you alone. I vow that I will spend the rest of my life proving your trust in me will not be in vain.”

  The sweetness of night-blooming jasmine flooded my senses as I leaned into him. “And I vow the same.”

  He tugged me close. “I have wasted precious time with you. I should have humbled myself months ago, begged your forgiveness, instead of hiding out with my sheep, wallowing in guilt.”

  “Yes. You should have. And I should have insisted on answers, instead of hiding inside my own heart. But—” I placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it, and took strength from the reminder that both of us were given breath by the God who brought us together, in spite of our faults. “You have my forgiveness now.”

  “I do not deserve such mercy, and I do not deserve you as my wife.” His hand swept over my hair and trailed down my back, following the path of my braid. He pulled it over my shoulder and stroked the end of it with his thumb. Leaning down, he put his lips close to my ear. “I cannot wait to undo this braid.”

  With a shiver, I lifted my face to look into his eyes, searching for confirmation of his earlier declaration of love. I found it in the open delight of his gaze and again in the way he whispered my name, his mouth hovering over mine, his palm sliding under my chin. “Please? May I?”

  Yes, my heart sang, and my breath echoed the same, and in a moment his mouth met mine. The tentative and guilt-ridden kiss by the stream could not compare with the overwhelming sensation of melting into him. The taste of his mouth and the ache of longing burned any latent indecision away. His arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me off my feet until they dangled in the air. I slid mine around his neck and pulled him tighter, daring him to let go and delighting in the heady thrill that sang in my blood.

  With a smile against my lips, he slowly put me back on my feet. I wavered, leaning against him for support and suddenly realizing just how close we were to the edge of camp. The moment had seemed so thunderous inside my head, the crash of my heartbeat so deafening, that people must be poking their heads out of tents and scanning the sky for flashes of lightning.

  “I have to take you back now, as much as I absolutely loathe the thought.” He brushed his fingertips across my cheek, the move leaving a trail of tingles in its wake. “But if I don’t”—his fingers traveled down my neck and to my collarbone—“I will have more to apologize for.”

  “I am sure my brother is wondering what happened to us,” I whispered, trying to control the tremble of my knees.

  His tone was sober. “I cannot be alone with you again until our wedding night, my little bird. I desire you too much.” He touched a finger to my lips. “I care about you too much.”

  “How long? How long until you come for me?” My whisper sounded more desperate than I’d expected.

  Leaning forward, he placed his forehead on mine, his nearness teasing me, begging me to reach for him. “Not one minute longer than necessary, I assure you.”

  36

  30 ADAR

  12TH MONTH OUT FROM EGYPT

  A long shadow stretched over me as I flipped the last manna round on the cooking stone. “Shalom.” Ayal’s low greeting set flight to a covey of flutters in my stomach.

  A swirl of nerves and pleasure had accompanied every glimpse of him since the night he held me in the dark—a reaction that always gave me away
whenever he partook of our family meals. Kiya never failed to tease me about the roses that insisted upon blooming in my cheeks. If only my skin were as golden-toned as hers and more able to disguise my emotions.

  “Shalom.” I greeted him with as much tranquility as I could summon to mask the pounding of my besotted heart.

  “May I ask something of you?” he said.

  Anything. I nodded.

  “You have heard that all Levites are to be consecrated tomorrow?”

  “Yes, Eben said there will be sacrifices offered for the first time in the Mishkan.”

  As he was not yet twenty, my brother was not included in such instructions, but Ayal would be obligated to fulfill his new duties as a priest. Seven days of sacrifices would set apart the men who would serve in the holy place.

  “I must shave.” He frowned. “My beard, and my head.”

  My face echoed his expression. Ayal’s dark hair fluttered about in the breeze, bringing attention to its imminent demise. He had trimmed it a few weeks ago, but already it curled around his ears again, inviting my touch.

  “Will you help me? My brothers’ wives are attending them, and I don’t trust another man to do it. I could end up with only one ear.” He smirked.

  I lifted a brow. “I would rather have a husband with two ears.”

  I tossed a shy glance at Kiya across the camp, and she volleyed back with a self-satisfied grin before lifting a bit of milk-sopped bread to Talia’s lips. Kiya was delighted that Dvorah had disappeared after her failed seduction of Ayal, and had taken ownership of Talia’s nourishment. I gathered the bread and laid it in a basket to cool. My own stomach had lost its earlier bite.

  I followed Ayal to the edge of the campsite, where he sat on a three-legged stool made by my brother, one of the last vestiges of our home back in Iunu. Ayal handed me a pouch, and inside I found a pair of shears, a honed copper blade, a linen towel, and a jar of oil that smelled of sandalwood and myrrh.