When he had agreed to finish her wedding week, she could not stop the tears. The act, the willingness to cover her shame, filled her with gratitude. How she loved him! Could he feel even a small measure of affection for her?
She waited, her breath coming slowly, listening for his footfalls. He would return to the tent. Surely he would.
Silence greeted her. She sat still, telling herself to rise, to dress, but sudden fear of him paralyzed her. She curled tighter, huddled, suddenly wishing with a vehemence that surprised her that she had not been party to this deceit. She had hurt him. Stolen from him the love he had longed for.
The small victory she had felt over her sister now tasted like dung on her tongue.
Jacob stood at the huppa’s door, emotion warring within him. To enter meant he accepted Laban’s bargain to keep Leah. There had been no mention of putting her aside, and the thought had not occurred to him until this moment. He could turn back. March into the house and wait for the guests to arrive that very night, then declare Laban’s deceit to all. Laban would lose his good name in the town, and his sons would pay the price. And if the men wanted proof, Jacob need only walk into the tent and bring his bride to stand before them. The family would suffer humiliation and most likely financial loss.
But Jacob could also lose Rachel in the process.
Doubt troubled him. He had paid for Rachel in good faith. If he took her now, leaving Leah behind, he would be forced to flee. For exposing Laban would surely bring his wrath down on Jacob once the men of the town returned home. And then where could he go? What if his father would not receive him?
He was tired of running.
And if getting rid of Leah meant losing Rachel, it would exact too high a price.
He paused a moment more, still flirting with indecision. He wanted Rachel. Only Rachel. And he knew from watching Laban and the bickering and conniving that ensued between his two wives that he did not want to marry two sisters! But he could not deny that he had known her most thoroughly last evening. And to divorce her now would be her ruin.
He shook his head, feeling the throb of the morning’s headache increase with the strain of choice. He glanced back toward the house. Saw two of Laban’s sons standing in the courtyard, watching him. Undoubtedly sent by Laban, who did not trust him.
He held their gaze for a heady moment. It was in his power to hurt them, to hurt them all as he had been harmed. But guilt of his past sins proved too weighty a reminder. Leah was no worse than he, probably prompted by her father as he had been by his mother. The thought added to his loathing, both of her and of himself. For with Rachel, he could forget himself.
Leah would be a constant reminder.
Leah glanced up at the light coming through the tent flap and, at the sight of Jacob standing there, released a breath that had become lodged within her. His look held censure and pain, and she longed to go to him. But still she waited. Would he send her away? Had he come only to tell her to collect her things, that the marriage was over?
He stood looking down at her for the space of too many heartbeats. And she could not look away from the strength of his gaze.
“What will you do?” she said at last, unable to endure the brittle silence.
“Not what I want.” He moved away from her to the small sitting area where they were expected to take their meals, to spend time together, to talk, to get to know one another. Then when evening came, he would emerge from the tent and take his place with the guests, while she waited, secluded, for him to return to her and fulfill his commitment. Which meant she hadn’t much time to make him care for her, for him to get to know her for herself.
She moved from the mat and retrieved her bridal tunic, a garment she had poured much love into in secret, away from Rachel’s prying eyes. But he would not care for the little details she had added, the intricate patterns she had woven along the edges of the sleeves . . . Her thoughts stopped short, and she wondered how she could think such things at a time like this.
He slumped to the pillows, rich cushions she had also woven with her mother’s help. For Rachel, she reminded herself. Guilt washed over her, and she staggered. Hunger gnawed at her as she glanced at the table laden with fresh fruits and cheeses, put there by her maid Zilpah, who would have sneaked into the tent early this morn to leave the offering while they slept. But she could not eat.
She stepped closer to him. Small, tentative steps, then she sank to her knees at his side. She lifted her hands, a supplicating gesture. “I am sorry, Jacob.” The look he gave her did nothing to ease the tension in her heart. “I was wrong. I see that now. It’s just . . .” She looked away, tears filling her throat. She swallowed. Her tears would not sway him. She had seen Rachel use them to get her way and had determined she would not do the same.
She swiped them from her cheeks and looked at him again, forcing her gaze to remain fixed on his. “I wanted to marry you. I have loved you since the day you walked through my father’s courtyard, and though you did not notice me, could not see past Rachel to see that I loved you—” She stopped at his upraised hand.
“Enough. Please.” He shook his head, and a muscle moved along his jaw, his mouth a grim line. He closed his eyes. “We will speak no more of this.” He looked at her, his smile almost conciliatory. “What is done is done. You are my wife. I did not choose you, but I will not send you away.”
She released a long, slow breath. “Thank you, my lord.” Relief rushed through her at his silent nod. He accepted her. Love for him filled her. Someday he would love her in return. Surely he would.
She rose slowly and moved to the table, choosing a plump, ripe date. She moved closer to him and lifted the date toward him in her palm. It was bold of her to offer it thus, but her confidence was growing in his presence. She was his and he hers, and this was their time.
He looked from her hand to her face. To eat together meant full acceptance. Bread and salt between them. And if he would but taste the date and offer her the second half, it would carry a richer promise. Would he accept her offering?
He touched calloused fingers to her palm. The exchange sent swift feelings of longing through her. She searched his face, praying he could read the love in her gaze. He lifted the date, his gaze holding hers.
He bit one end of the date and pulled the pit from its center. Looked at it for several heartbeats, until at last he held the date to her lips, the sweet flesh of the fruit a soft caress. She allowed him to place the date on her tongue, smiling at him.
His smile in return did not meet his eyes, and the fire of longing she had witnessed the night before was missing entirely now. But at least he had maintained the tradition, had shared the sweet date of promise.
She moved to the table again, this time piling fresh fruits and cheeses onto a small platter, which she placed before him. In time she would make him love her. In time he would come to her with passion once again. For her.
For now, his acceptance was enough.
8
Rachel sat on the same dais Leah had occupied a week earlier, palms sweating and heart beating fast. Laughter and music flowed in and around her, cocooned as she was in the tent of her maidenhood. Jacob’s voice rose above the fray now and then, quieting her with his distant strength. He would come for her soon.
The thought filled her with anticipation, longing. And yet . . . would he compare her to Leah now? Would she be found wanting in some way she couldn’t understand or define?
They were supposed to have come to the tent untouched by another. And she knew he had waited long, saving himself for her alone. But that purity had been stolen from them. And the awful truth of it was they would never get it back.
The thought had stirred her blood to such anger the past week that she could not speak. She would surely lash out somehow, and yet the one she had wanted most to hurt had been secluded in the huppa for those seven days with Jacob. But no more. Leah was nowhere to be seen at this feast. Rachel’s mother had insisted she stay away, and Rache
l breathed with relief in knowing her sister could not ruin this night. Not again.
She glanced toward the men’s table, watching through the thin slit she had fashioned in her veil. The maids moved like unseen ghosts among them, refilling silver goblets and replacing empty platters, the scents of the food mingling with the rich spikenard of the groom. This time when he approached the dais, he would know he was not being duped yet again.
“Is there anything I can get for you, mistress?” Bilhah appeared at her side holding a cup of spiced wine. But Rachel had eaten what little she could before the veils were placed over her head.
“I’m not hungry now. Thank you.” Bilhah nodded and moved past her to the table and deposited the cup in her father’s outstretched hand.
Boasts and praises were offered to Jacob, to her, until at last the drum picked up a different rhythm. The mood of the crowd shifted, and men shouted, “To the huppa!” Ribald comments and laughter followed, heating Rachel’s blood.
She smoothed her hands along her gilded tunic, her heartbeat more erratic now, and tried desperately to remember the advice her mother had given at the last, advice meant to woo Jacob and keep him at her side, as her mother had done with Laban, besting Leah’s mother. It was a game between the two women, and she had always despised their actions.
A swift sense of despair accompanied the thought. She didn’t want a life like her mother’s! But the thoughts faded as she watched Jacob move from the group of men to walk slowly in her direction. Her father jumped up from his seat as if he just now realized it was time and trundled down the short path, catching up with Jacob until they both stood in front of her.
“I must see her to the tent.” Her father puffed, the short walk winding him.
Jacob did not even look in her father’s direction, his gaze taking her in, the dark brows lifting as his eyes met hers. Surprise and a delighted smile curved the corners of his mouth, and she knew her break with tradition, allowing him to see her eyes, was a wise choice.
“Come, come, now. Mustn’t keep the guests waiting.” Her father’s jovial words barely caught her notice, but she dutifully stood and took the arm he offered her, allowing him to lead her to the huppa where she should have been taken the week before.
Her father lifted the flap and led her into the semidarkened room but backed quickly away as Jacob was already standing in the door waiting. When at last the flap closed them in, Jacob stepped closer but did not touch her, his smile slowly growing wider, his look caressing her.
“It is really you,” he said, relief in his tone, in his smile.
“It is really me.” She waited, anxious, longing.
He stepped closer still, the gap between them filled. His fingers worked the clasps of her veil, catching on the fine threads. “I’m sorry.”
“You won’t hurt the veil, my lord.”
He bent closer and gently undid the clasp this time, freeing her of the veil that enclosed her. He lifted it from her head and tossed it aside. Turning, he sifted both hands through her unbound hair and pulled her to him, his mouth seeking hers. His kisses, no longer the gentle pecks they had stolen in rare private moments during their betrothal, quickly deepened, possessing her until her knees nearly gave way beneath her.
When at last he pulled back, he wasted no time in removing her robe. She lifted trembling fingers to his sash, unable to undo the knot. He placed both hands over hers, silently helping her. Had he done the same for Leah?
The thought of her sister made her breath hitch. She did not want to think about her here! The intrusion brought a rush of anger to the surface and with it the sting of sudden tears.
He seemed not to notice, and she blinked them away. She would not spoil their time together with complaints or let him see her worries.
“You’re trembling,” he said as he led her to the raised bed spread with fine linen sheets waiting for them.
“Am I?” But a shiver passed through her in defiance of her question, betraying her.
He traced a line along her shoulder, then tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Do not be afraid, Rachel. I have longed for, prayed for this moment from the first sight I had of you. My little shepherdess.” He smiled into her eyes even as his fingers moved over her back, pulling her against him.
“I’m not afraid.” She leaned forward to kiss him. She would prove herself a worthy lover. Better than Leah. The thought bolstered her courage, and she pushed thoughts of Leah from her mind as she gave in to Jacob’s sweet caresses. She was finally his. And he was hers.
At dawn the next morning, Rachel awoke first, her mind slowly clearing. She looked over at Jacob’s dear form and smiled. He loved her! And she was at last his wife for as long as life lasted. She leaned closer, brushed a strand of hair from where it had fallen across his forehead. He stirred, blinked, then looked at her. At his quick sigh, she smiled.
“Rachel.” His voice was music to her ears.
“Jacob.” She leaned close, kissing his nose.
His arms came around her. “I love you, you know.”
“I know.” She laughed as his beard tickled her neck.
“I am sorry things turned out as they did.”
“With Leah, you mean?”
He nodded, pulling back to look at her. “Things won’t change between us. I will love you as I have always loved you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
She nodded, brushing her long fingers through his hair. “I wish . . .” She looked away. “I wanted you to myself.” She kissed him softly, lingering.
He wound his fingers through her hair, breathing softly of her scent. “And you shall have me to yourself. Things will be as we always planned.”
“You would set Leah aside?” For the faintest moment, she almost hoped.
Jacob stroked her face, his calloused fingers gentle against her cheek. “I will do what I must by her.” He looked beyond her, and she knew the thought pained him. “I cannot ignore her entirely.”
“You can when she carries a child.” She coaxed him to look at her. “Then you will have no need to be with her. While I, on the other hand, can have you to myself even when my belly swells with life.” She kissed him softly again, pleased at the stirring of longing in his eyes. “Me, you will not get rid of so easily, my husband.”
He laughed, wrapping both arms around her. “What a little temptress you are!” He buried his face into her hair, tickling her ear.
She laughed with him, warmed by the joy in his voice. “And don’t you forget it!” She pulled him closer, then laughed again at the sound of his stomach growling. She gently pushed away from him and reached for his hand. “You are hungry, dear husband. Come, let us eat the food my maid brought for us.” She tugged his arm, coaxing him to rise.
He grabbed his robe and donned it, then lifted hers from the floor and held it just out of reach. “I might enjoy watching you eat without this.” She caught the wicked gleam in his eyes and tried to grasp the robe, but he toyed with her, holding it above his head.
She laughed, playing his little game until he snatched her in a warm embrace and slowly lowered his arm. “Hold out your arms.” She did as he asked, and he fitted the sleeves over each one, then tied the belt at her waist. “I still say we would have had more fun the other way.”
She slipped both arms around his waist and held him tightly. “I love you, Jacob ben Isaac.”
He bent to kiss her again, and she reveled in it, wishing with all of her heart that this moment could last forever. His stomach rumbled again, an intruder to their love. But when he lifted his lips from hers, she led him to the table spread with a feast of fruits and nuts and cheeses and fresh goat’s milk. As she fed him dates, he fed her apricots, love’s finest fruit. And she knew she had captured his heart and would keep it, despite her sister.
9
At week’s end Jacob led Rachel from the huppa and stopped at Laban’s house to collect Leah and his wives’ two maids, then led them to the field beyond, where his tent stood waiti
ng for them. The tent, he now realized, was sorely lacking in size for so many women. One glance at Rachel’s face when Leah emerged carrying a bundle of clothing and linens made him pause. He must set them to sewing goat’s hair and expanding the tent without delay. They would kill each other under the same small partition he had meant for Rachel alone.
The excited chatter behind him turned swiftly to bickering, until at last Jacob stopped and called Rachel forward. He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, setting out again a short distance ahead of the others.
“Can you at least try to get along with her, beloved?” His words came out sharper than he intended, and he drew in a slow breath, trying again. “That is, I had hoped this day would be one of delight for us. Can we make the best of a difficult situation?” He gave her a sideways look, watching her expression.
She looked ahead, avoiding his gaze, a soft pout on her full lips, her look contemplative. At last she faced him and smiled. “I will try, my lord. But I have seen the room you had set aside for me. It is not nearly large enough for four women.”
He nodded. Ran a hand through his hair. “I have thought of little else since we awoke this morning. I will clip the goats this very day and insist your father sell me the hair for more tents. It is the least he can do.” Though Laban might find it amusing to see him living in a household of women with no peace. One never knew how the man would act or what he was thinking.
They crested the low hill and found Jacob’s tent standing as it had been, waiting for them, beckoning them home. He lifted the flap and ushered the women into his receiving area, past the partition to the opening in the wall that led to the second chamber. Leah entered after Rachel and stood just inside the opening as though trying to rearrange things in her mind.
Rachel Page 6