When the knock came upon his door, he opened it himself. Joram stood before him. He stepped aside and David saw a figure in black, head bowed. His pulse was racing. “The wife of Uriah the Hittite, my lord the king,” Joram said smoothly. David’s head came up sharply. “Do not refer to her in that way again.” He jerked his head in dismissal. He wanted no reminder that she’d belonged to another man before him. She belonged to him now. Nothing else mattered. As Joram’s footsteps receded, David calmed himself. “Bathsheba.” His voice came out rough. She stood with eyes downcast like a shy virgin. “Ah, my love,” he whispered. He took her hand. “I’ve missed you.” She shivered slightly as she stepped hesitantly over the threshold. Her fingers were cold. Was she trembling with the same need he felt? He drew her into his bedchamber. “You’ve no need to be afraid anymore.” He closed the door behind her. “You’re with me now and always will be.
