Christina Rich - The Warrior's Vow

He Was Hers to Command

Swept away from her home and into the desert, Abigail is as much a prisoner as she is a princess. A ruthlessly ambitious captain of the palace guard intends to force her into marriage and rule Judah through her. Yet the badly beaten soldier Abigail rescues offers another choice—if she dares trust him.

She is royalty, yet Jesse is surprised by the gentle compassion Abigail shows him as he heals. In return, he will help her escape to Jerusalem, protecting her life with his own. But Abigail’s rank and Jesse’s deadly past makes any future impossible, unless forgiveness forged by love can triumph over all.

“I fear our journey will not be easy for you.”

Many of his wounds, were superficial. The chamomile he’d drank, along with the honey slathered over his wounds, had eased the pain and would bring swift healing. If it weren’t for his ribs poking his innards, he’d have no trouble moving. However, Jesse was not about to inform Abigail, lest she change her mind. “I will manage. As I told you before, you’d be surprised at what a man can endure when he wishes to live.”

Her brow puckered, leaving a little crease above the arch of her nose. “Why is that?”

“I believe God gives man courage and strength.”

She shook her head. Her tresses waved down her back. “Why do you wish to live?”

“That is an easy question to answer.”

Her chin tilted at an angle, she leaned forward. “What is it?”

He smiled. “Someone must convince you of your beauty since it’s obvious you do not believe it yourself.”

CHRISTINA RICH

is a full-time housewife and mother. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and four children. She loves Jesus, history, researching her ancestry, fishing, reading and of course, writing romances woven with God’s grace, mercy and truth.

You can find more about her at www.authorchristinarich.com.

The Warrior’s Vow

Christina Rich

www.millsandboon.co.uk

It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.

—Lamentations 3:22–24

Cody, thank you for being a man who chases after the Lord.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Dear Reader,

Extract

Chapter One

Judah

Circa 835 BC

The sound of horses’ hooves thundered into camp. Abigail’s pulse hammered in her chest at the commotion outside her tent. She tucked her hands into her sleeves and paced. Had the warrior priests who had attacked the palace and killed her mother found them?

“What is happening, Bilhah?”

Her cousin sat on a pile of furs, her knees drawn to her chest. Black kohl trailed down her cheeks. Abigail knelt in front of her and tried to imitate the strength she had seen her mother exude. “Bilhah, now is not the time for weakness. What if we must make haste?”

Soulless amber eyes stared at her. “There will be no mercy.”

A chorused bellow startled Abigail, sending a tremor racing through her blood, until she realized what she’d heard had been a cheer of victory among her men. Uncertain of her new role as future queen, she forced a smile and rose. “Of course, there will be none. Jehoiada and the usurpers will pay for killing my mother.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “And my brothers all those years ago.”

Bilhah’s brow furrowed as if she was confused. Many such looks had tainted her cousin’s beautiful face since their flight from the palace and Jerusalem. She tilted her head and scanned Abigail from head to toe. “You misunderstand me, Abigail. The God of the priests, the God of our forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, will not grant us mercy, not if we continue in our rebellion.”

The hot desert wind rippled the canvas around them. Gooseflesh rose on Abigail’s arms and she hugged herself to ward off the omen. She’d heard the servants speak of a god greater than the ones her mother had worshipped, but she’d yet to see him with her own eyes, as she’d seen the wooden and bronze statues in the courtyard outside the palace. “You’ve had a great shock, Bilhah. You do not know what you speak.”

“If they did not spare your mother, the Queen of Judah, they will not spare us, Abigail.” Bilhah’s shoulders sagged as she pressed her face into her hands. Abigail swallowed her fear as the memory of the frantic cries of the servants assaulted her. It was the one time she had willingly crawled into the wooden chest in order to hide from the warrior priests.

It was no wonder the confident, alluring woman who prowled the palace at will crumpled into another round of sobs. The change in her cousin’s behavior since the priests and temple guards had stormed the palace was disconcerting. Abigail was having a difficult time being cast from her home, too. However, if she hadn’t been forced to abide by Captain Suph’s demands, Abigail thought she might actually enjoy her freedom from the palace.

A dark shadow passed outside their tent and then pressed against the fabric. “Princess,” Micah called from outside. “The captain requests your presence.”

As if her nerves weren’t already taut, now the captain requested her presence. He’d not been kind since their flight from Jerusalem and he’d always made her feel less than human, as if she were a stray dog begging for scraps. How could she make him understand she was his rightful queen, would be his queen once her throne was restored in Jerusalem, and as such deserved his respect?

Abigail dried her palms and pulled back the flap. “In a moment, Micah.”

The young servant nodded and crossed his arms over his linen tunic; although no more than a child, he’d been one of her only constant companions for the past few years. One of the only people her mother had allowed to attend her. Abigail faced her cousin. “Once you’ve rested and I’ve taken my position as Queen of Judah, all will be well. You’ll see.” She took two steps, bent at the waist and started to press her lips against Bilhah’s smooth head before halting. If she was to go on as her mother had, if she was to succeed as Queen of Judah, such comforting gestures would no longer be allowed. “Rest, while I see what Suph requires of me. And dry your eyes, Bilhah. Our people need you. You cannot perform in your current state.”

She shook out her tunic and brushed a hand over the dust-infested tunic. With a trembling hand, she patted down her hair before slipping between the folds of her tent. She scanned the desert encampment, pleased that many of her mother’s subjects had followed their exodus during the priests’ attempt to take over Jerusalem. Soon, with Suph’s help, she’d see them returned to their beloved city, where she would reward their faithfulness with a banquet to rival her great ancestor King Solomon. Of course, she’d have to gain Bilhah’s help since she’d no idea how kings and queens dined.

“Come, Micah, let us see what Suph wants, shall we?” She smiled at the boy. His black orbs sparkled before his lashes dipped against his tanned cheekbones. She followed behind him, twisting and turning through the maze of tents that had been hastily erected after their flight from Jerusalem. The people lowered their heads as she passed as if she were already queen. Their actions humbled her. And disheartened her. Until a few days ago many knew not of her existence. Those who did had slighted her, not even treating her with the acknowledgment a servant receives.