A Noble Captive

by Michelle Styles

  ‘Marcus Livius Tullio knew nothing?’

  ‘No, my lady.’ He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. ‘In fact, he forbade any attempt at escape. When we return to Rome, no doubt I shall be disciplined. In my arrogance, I broke my military oath. For that I am deeply ashamed.’

  Helena pressed her hands to her forehead, seeking to relieve the pain. Her stomach turned over. She’d never have suspected Galla. She had wronged Tullio. She had thrown all sorts of accusations at him, and had not listened to the explanation. She had wanted to believe everything but her own heart.

  ‘You have given me much to think about.’

  Quintus reached out a hand. ‘My lady, speak to him. Convince him that I have suffered enough. My retirement is coming up in a few months and I was hoping for a good settlement, but my former tribune is dead and I now must hope.’

  ‘He said he would buy me,’ Galla said with a trembling voice. ‘I don’t believe him, of course.’

  ‘Jupiter and Saturn as my witness, I planned to. And if I survive, I plan to.’ Quintus’s voice rang out through the hall. ‘She was prepared to speak for me. For me? Can you believe that? And she makes honey cakes. I want her by my side for the rest of my days. I mean to marry her.’

  Helena saw Galla grow bright red. Her heart twisted. Somehow Quintus had conquered Galla’s natural mistrust of Romans. She also knew that, if Quintus did offer, her aunt would refuse. Galla was too important to the temple. But looking at Galla’s shining face, and tender smile, Helena also knew that such a refusal would be wrong.

  ‘When that day comes, I will be the first to wish you joy and happiness,’ Helena said and swept from the room before she gave way to tears.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Silver clouds skittered across a yellow moon making the world look a strange and different place. Although Helena knew every crevice and foothold on the way to the tower, she had to stop several times and once missed a turning. In near pitch-black darkness she had to grope her way back.

  The night-time scent of the jasmine that twisted and clung to the tower walls was cloying and oppressive. So heavy that, with every breath she took, the scent seemed to fill her lungs, pressing down on her, making this part of the passage more difficult than usual.

  A scream welled up within her as her fingers touched a gecko, who scuttled away. Its claws dug into her hand before scraping the stone. She had never liked the little lizards who inhabited the crevices and cracks of the temple walls. She liked them even less when they ran over her toes and hands.

  She had decided to go to the tower when sleep evaded her. Back in her bedroom, she’d closed her eyes and all she’d seen was Tullio’s face. She’d gone over and over the words she had hurled at him and she knew there was no way to retract them. He had tried to explain and she had refused to listen, preferring to believe the word of a man she knew was a cheat and liar.

  The top of the turret was her place of refuge, the place where she always went. Up there, surrounded by the air and sea, she could think out her problems and decide what to do next. Her head always cleared there. For as long as she could remember it was her special thinking spot.

  If she could, she would replace the sands of time. Then she’d listen, not only to his words but to how he said them. Before she had listened with her ears and not with her heart. Somehow, she would have to find a way to apologise. Then she would get on with her life and stop wishing for things that could never be.

  She had strong feelings for the Roman tribune. Feelings that grew by the day, by the hour. She knew that. It was impossible to deny. She admired his clear thinking. Niobe trusted him. She appreciated the way he helped the temple, asking for nothing in return. He had come looking for her when no one else had dared.

  Twice.

  But could she trust him? Truly trust him? He must have known his men had escaped, and he had not warned her.

  After today, she knew that, despite his feelings for her—and she had to believe he had feelings for her—he would side with Rome.

  That hurt.

  It pained her to her very core. Her heart had shattered. She could not get away from the fact that she had trusted him, and he used that trust to betray her.

  Except he hadn’t. He had been manipulated in the same way as she was.

  Now, instead of being the injured one, it looked as if she had betrayed him. She had taken the first opportunity to denounce him. She’d denied him a chance to explain. Her prejudice blinded her. She’d ruined everything.

  Although things could never be the same between them, she had to find a way of letting him know how sorry she was.

  She turned the last corner and stared at the battlements before her. She blinked twice in case it was a trick of the moonlight.

  Standing with his back to her, his face turned firmly towards the sea, was Tullio. His crimson cloak was black in the moonlight, making a contrast with the pale skin of his just visible forearms.

  Helena stopped and stood, unable to do more than stare.

  It was one thing to think about Tullio and to plan her apology. It was quite another to actually have the courage to make it.

  Why was he here? Had he sought her out? But he could not have known where she’d be.

  She turned to go as silently as she came. However, an invisible thread seemed to connect them. As she turned, so did he.

  ‘Helena.’

  A single whispered word, no more. A question. A plea and so much more was contained in that one word.

  It was enough.

  Helena stopped and went into the silvered moonlight. ‘I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here,’ she said around the sudden lump in her throat.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he said.

  His face looked remote, stern and unyielding. The lines were more pronounced than ever, his eyes black stone. Helena’s heart contracted. She thought of all the accusations she had heaped on his head. Never once had she paused and asked what she might do in a similar situation. All the warmth seemed to have vanished from him as if it had never been.

  ‘I’m worried about my men.’ His hand pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. ‘The pirates ill treated them.’

  ‘It is right to worry.’ She bit her lip and wished she could unsay those words. They sounded so unfeeling, almost threatening. She was no better than Kimon. ‘They will survive. I have been assured of that. Galla is taking a personal interest. And she has snatched patients from the very jaws of Cerberus.’

  He raised an eyebrow. Helena waited and mentally prepared a light remark. Something that would lead into her apology. He shifted slightly. She thought she detected a relaxation of his crossed arms.

  ‘That is good to hear.’

  ‘Galla seems quite taken with Quintus,’ Helena tried again.

  ‘That is no concern of mine. Quintus knew what he was doing.’

  He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. One small gesture and she’d run to his arms. Helena knew that. She adjusted her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and let the silence grow.

  ‘Why you are up here? Your men are in the hospital. There is no reason for you to be here.’

  ‘I could ask you the same question.’ His face was back in shadow. His voice was soft, lazy, yet she could tell from the way he held himself that he was watching her with a deep intentness.

  ‘I come here to think. I found it difficult to sleep.’

  She forced her feet to move sedately over to her favourite spot. The black shapes of the boats bobbed up and down on a silver sea. The quiet lapping of the waves hitting the boats was clearly audible even in the turret.

  There had been less damage than she’d first thought, but enough to keep everyone busy for the next few weeks. A precious few weeks to get her aunt well enough to stand and perform the blessing. Within a few weeks, everything would have returned to normal.

  Within a few weeks, days, he would be gone and she’d be left here to face the future alone.

  Helena shivered.<
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  How could she begin to explain any of this to Tullio? With each lap of the water, she felt the time of her destiny was coming closer.

  ‘When sleep is difficult, this place calls to me. Only here can I find peace.’

  ‘My commiserations.’ Tullio gave a slight bow. ‘We all have problems.’

  Helena pressed her palms together. She refused to get angry. Anger would not serve her purpose. She had to think and to plan. She had to approach her problem with a level head. She turned from the harbour and faced him.

  ‘I hadn’t expected to find anyone here.’

  ‘Sleep is impossible, so I came here. I remembered the way from the last time. Perhaps I seek some sort of peace as well. A lasting peace.’ He made a sardonic bow. ‘I came to watch for the tribute ship. It should be here any day. I watch the water and hope.’

  Helena hesitated. She did not voice her fears—fears about what would happen when it did arrive or what might happen if the ship perished in the storm. She walked over to the battlements and gripped the stone with both her hands. She listened to the sound of the waves lapping and the softer one of Tullio’s breath.

  ‘No doubt the ship will arrive soon. And then what will you do?’

  ‘I will be free to go and will have no obligations here. I will pursue my vow.’

  ‘Of destroying the seafarers?’

  ‘Yes. I told you that it is the one thing I live for.’

  ‘I know you took no part in the escape.’ Helena said the words to the silvered sea. He had moved nearer. She could sense that without looking up to confirm it. Her whole body tingled with anticipation. ‘Quintus confessed.’

  His hand reached out and touched her shoulder. Warm fingers against the coolness of her skin. She forced her body to stay still.

  ‘What has happened to change your mind? You were positive before. You threw it in my face.’

  ‘I interviewed the men in hospital. Galla tried to say it was her fault, but Quintus refused to let her. He explained what he had done and how he had tricked us all.’ She tightened her grip on the stones until the white of her knuckles showed.

  ‘The seafarers will wish to see them punished,’ she said. ‘They abused the temple’s hospitality.’

  ‘And being beaten is not enough? Being forced to fight and make sport is not enough?’ His voice held a note of incredulity. ‘What more do you propose to do?’

  ‘I said that it was not my decision. I do not speak for the sibyl. You seem to think that I control everything that happens in this temple. It is simply an illusion. I have little power.’

  ‘Just as I have little control over the determined actions of my men. And yet twice you have held me to account for them.’

  Helena stared at him. The moonlight made the planes of his face shadowed and his hair appear blue black. Her hands itched to touch his curls again and to feel them spring back against the pads of her fingers. She wanted to go back to that easier time when there were no shadows between them.

  ‘What would you have me do?’ she whispered.

  Tullio tore his gaze from Helena’s face and the way the moonlight highlighted the curve of her bosom. The light breeze moulded her thin robe to her body. He remembered how each and every curve had felt under his fingers. He remembered how her skin had trembled underneath his.

  He had come up here to think and to get away from the memory of her lips and the way her body fitted against him. He wanted to make sense of what had happened and how he was going to reconcile the feelings he had for Helena with his duty towards Rome.

  What Quintus’s escape attempt had shown him was that he had put his own desires ahead of his duty. It was the first time such a thing had happened. If he had stayed, those men would not now be fighting for their lives. Quintus did it because Tullio had vacated his post and gone in search of Helena.

  ‘It is not up to me to decide their punishment. For this, I thank the gods.’

  There was a troubled expression in Helena’s eyes. Tullio hated making things worse for her, but she had to make a decision. She had to decide where she stood—with the pirates or with the rule of law.

  ‘You had no idea what Quintus and the other two were intending to do.’

  ‘I was busy attending to other things.’

  He lift a hand towards her and smoothed the one ringlet back from her face. Her skin trembled slightly under the touch of his fingers. It felt warm against his cooled hands. Cold? Or something more? Tullio hesitated. He could feel the stirrings of a response to her nearness deep within his body.

  ‘What sort of things?’ There was a teasing quality to her voice.

  ‘Just things.’

  He used one finger to tilt her chin. He gazed at her face. There were words he wanted to say to her but he was neither a poet nor a smooth-talking senator. He was legionary, a man who lived his life by the sword.

  He had never felt like this about anyone before and it frightened him. This woman meant far more to him than his military oath. He had nearly betrayed his men for her. He had gone to the brink, but now he was back. He had regained command of his emotions.

  Her eyes were wide, her mouth inviting.

  He bent his head and captured her lips, allowing the touch of his mouth to speak for him. If she rejected him again, he would know that this was the end.

  Her lips parted at his first touch. Her mouth opened, warm and enticing. Tullio hesitated, applying the lightest of touches. Her hands reached up, grasped the back of his neck and drew his head closer, deepening the kiss, demanding more.

  His arms came around and grasped her, fitting her curves to him. Within a heartbeat, his body hardened, responding to her softness.

  She quivered in his arms.

  He lifted his mouth from hers and stared into her moonlit eyes. His hands buried themselves in her tangled mass of hair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, touching his mouth with her fingers, tracing its outline.

  ‘Sorry for what?’

  ‘I should have believed you.’

  ‘It is in the past.’

  Tullio ran a finger down the side of her face. He knew what that admission had cost her. He knew he should press forward, demand that she declare for Rome, but this was beyond that, this was between him and her.

  Nothing else mattered except the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body against his.

  ‘Do you mean that?’

  ‘Hush, Helena,’ he said, recapturing her mouth.

  He heard the moan in her throat.

  Her tongue touched his, retreated and returned for a long caress. He pulled her closer, running a hand down her back to the narrow indentation of her waist, crushing her beasts against his chest. Through the thin material, her erect nipples teased him.

  He ran his palm down her side, rubbed a nipple with the back of his thumb, and watched her face change in the starlight. Her body writhed against him. Slowly, carefully, his fingers circled her breast, now brushing, now rubbing more firmly. The thrusts of her hips became more frantic, circling. His body grew tighter. He held on to his self-control with the thinnest of threads.

  He wanted to give her pleasure, and bind her to him.

  Her fingers plucked at his tunic, slipped between the cloth and his skin, ran along his collarbone. A slender hand slipped down and caressed his chest, making the points of his nipples as erect as hers.

  With difficulty, he kept the fire beginning to rage within him in check. He had to allow her the chance to explore. She withdrew her hands and then ran them down the side of his body. He drew in his breath.

  Her hands hovered at his belt. His manhood tightened to an ache. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to lower her to the ground, part her legs and plough himself into her.

  He wanted to be sure. She was too important to him simply to be bedded.

  ‘Helena, this is not an ideal place,’ he croaked, his voice barely recognisable to his ears.

  ‘We have your cloak, and the stars.’


  Helena tilted her head and peeped at him from under her lashes. She knew what he was offering, but she also knew that she wanted this man once more. She wanted to feel as she had felt in the cave. She wanted to feel like a woman, not a priestess.

  He took off his cloak, lay it on the ground, then relaxed against it, inviting her. He patted the ground next to him. The invitation was clear.

  She knew what she had to do.

  Her hands loosened the simple tie about her hips and let it fall to the ground. She watched Tullio for any sign. Her tongue licked her lips. Her fingers were all thumbs. She wanted to please this man. She wanted to make him feel the way she was feeling. The points of her breasts ached and her skin tingled from his touch.

  She swallowed hard, wondering what to do next. How to proceed. How did one disrobe for a lover? Instinct only guided her. She started to shrug the gown off one shoulder, saw the possibility of it becoming stuck and stopped.

  She wanted to get it right.

  Tullio watched her. He held his body still. He had to let her take her time because he wanted her to come to him. He had no wish to frighten her. He had so very nearly lost her. He waited, feeling the desire within him grow.

  With one swift movement, she took off her gown and stood there shimmering. The dusky place between her thighs contrasted with her starlit limbs.

  A goddess.

  He had to touch her, to worship her.

  She held out her hands, beckoning.

  Tullio knelt up and encircled her waist with his hands, before running them down her sides. She quivered under his touch, but did not draw back.

  He laid his cheek against her abdomen and felt her hand stroke his hair. Skin against skin.

  With a slight turn of his head, he touched his lips to her midriff and tasted the sweetness of her flesh. His tongue curved around her belly button, lingered there. Then his lips moved ever downward, sampling, nibbling until he reached her short curls.