The Warrior's Vow. Christina Rich

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      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