Her Roman's Hand

by Catherine Chernow

  Your journey is not complete,

  It has just begun.

  You will learn much more,

  Before you can return home.

  Snap! She closed the book, not believing the words. Mark must have placed them there. But just the same, she glanced around, hoping no one could see.

  She rubbed the gemma until her fingers burned from the friction. Nothing happened.

  Frustration filled her, she wanted to pound on the book’s cover until her hands became raw.

  Why do I persist in believing such nonsense? Have I truly gone mad?

  Something shiny caught her eye. A metal object lay beneath the scrolls on Marcus’ desk. A gold band peeked out from beneath the papyrus rolls.

  Her watch! She looked at the timepiece. The hands turned rhythmically, the big one marking down the seconds. Then, both hands spun around the face of the watch. It made her dizzy. She gripped the table for support. Then, everything stopped.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there, expecting something to happen.

  The walls didn’t melt away. She didn’t slip into that tunnel. She wasn’t propelled forwards in time, but remained exactly where she was.

  She looked at the watch again. The hands were still. She banged the watch on the table, but the hands wouldn’t budge.

  It was as though she had got into her car and started it but when she placed her foot on the gas pedal, the car wouldn’t move.

  Time as she knew it, remained in neutral. So, did she.

  She sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging them to her body.

  She couldn’t stop shaking.

  You will learn much more, before you can return home.

  The words swirled through her mind. And heart.

  Home, she always heard, was where your heart lay.

  A strange feeling of detachment came over her. Or maybe, it was the realisation that her modern day existence didn’t seem like home.

  And probably never was.

  Chapter Ten

  Sometime later, Lyla woke to the sound of a low moan.

  She opened her eyes to total darkness and stretched out her legs, her cramped muscles resisting the movement. Pain shot through her thighs.

  How long have I been lying on the floor? She gazed around her, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark.

  A cry sounded through the night. When she realised from where it came, she turned her head to the right. From the room next door, she heard a woman shout, “Haud!”

  Another raised voice drifted to her ears. A man’s. It sounded like Marcus.

  Her pulse raced. Was he harming some poor woman? A slave? Maybe Eisha or Corinne?

  She shook her head to clear it of her crazy thoughts. It didn’t make sense. Why would he hurt them after he had gone to the trouble of rescuing them from Corvus?

  She remembered Marcus’ statement about the rooms having small peepholes in them, so she rose to her feet and climbed onto the bed. Perhaps his bedroom contained a tiny viewing device…

  She ran her fingers over the wall, touching something slightly raised and round. She pressed her eye against it and discovered she had a clear view to another room.

  Her breath caught in her chest. She blinked once, not quite believing what she saw…a collection of what appeared to be whips and crops, each mounted on a wall. The lashes were different shapes and sizes. One resembled a leather strap; another was made from twisted parchment thongs.

  Lyla couldn’t tear her eyes away from the deadliest looking whip constructed of long lashes and spiked at the ends with metal points. Lyla’s gaze soon beheld another sight.

  Appia stood in the centre of the room, her head bowed. Marcus’ tall frame filled the space before her. He raised her chin with his palm, speaking rapidly in Latin.

  The young girl quaked. Her entire body shook, from head to toe. Then she answered him.

  Marcus’ face grew stormy. Appia bowed her head. A long silence greeted Lyla. Then Marcus spoke again.

  He paced before Appia. He spoke, his tone angry. His voice boomed throughout the room

  Appia wrung her hands, her response quick. Her voice shook when she addressed him.

  He raised her chin, and uttered a command. She sank back on her heels.

  He said something else, his tone questioning. Appia bit her lower lip. She answered, but from the sound of Marcus’ voice, it appeared as though he did not like what she said.

  Appia rose to her feet and stood before him.

  He grabbed a chair then raised his voice. It sounded as if he issued a command.

  Appia pulled up her tunic with shaking hands, baring herself from the waist down.

  Lyla’s heart pounded. She swore she could hear each racing beat, thought that they could hear it, too.

  Again Marcus barked out what sounded like an order. Appia exposed her naked ass to Marcus.

  He walked over to where the whips and crops were positioned on the wall. He studied them for a few seconds then chose the leather strap.

  He said the word feruala several times. Lyla wondered if that’s what he called the leather strap in his hand.

  He didn’t give Appia a warning. He let the long piece of leather fly through the air. It landed on Appia’s backside, the sound of it hitting her flesh making a loud, ‘crack’.

  Lyla’s mouth grew dry while sweat beads formed on her back. Several trickled down, soaking her gown. She hid her face in her hands, not wanting to watch, yet, some perverse little part of her did.

  She watched as Appia’s lashing with the whip continued.

  Her cunt throbbed. She stroked herself there, between her legs, knowing that Marcus couldn’t see. A wicked, yet shameful feeling overcame her.

  The more Marcus spanked Appia with the ferula, the redder the girl’s ass became.

  Lyla moaned when her fingers brought her the needed release she sought from the salacious spectacle she viewed through the peephole.

  For just a second, Marcus stopped his punishment. He turned his head in her direction.

  Lyla scooted back down in his bed, making herself into a tight ball.

  Then she heard the sound of the leather against Appia’s bottom, wishing it were she who received punishment. She spread her legs and rubbed her tender clit, bringing release to her throbbing body once again.

  Marcus would never know how much she enjoyed viewing that scene. The imp inside her danced, but then it stopped when guilt reared its ugly head.

  She had to find out why Appia was being punished. Perhaps she’d placed herself in danger again.

  She’d speak to Appia and discover the truth, and maybe, just maybe…

  Receive her heart’s desire from Marcus, as well.

  * * * *

  The following day, Lyla met Appia on the way to the bath.

  Appia looked beautiful, her dark hair swept upwards into a tight bun with several braids wound together. Tendrils of dark hair escaped, curling down the sides of her face. Her silk gown’s pale rose colour accentuated Appia’s smooth, olive-toned skin. She approached Lyla, her steps measured, for it seemed that when she walked, it pained her.

  Lyla could imagine. Her bottom tingled in response, despite her efforts to control her reaction. “You look lovely,” she told Appia, angling her head. “Are you dressed for some a special occasion?”

  Appia’s lovely, reddened lips split into a wide smile. “Yes.” She bowed her head. “I am to meet my future husband today.”

  “Appia, please don’t say you’re going through with that sham of a marriage to Marcus’ friend.” She gripped the young girl’s shoulders.

  Appia removed herself from Lyla’s hold. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.” She raised her chin.

  Lyla bit down on her lower lip. While she hated Marcus’ plan for Appia to wed his friend, she wondered if he told the girl about reuniting with her family. It was a chance for Appia to escape servitude, and be with her people again.

  A twinge of jealousy touche
d Lyla’s heart. She did not have any family back home who gave two shits about her.

  Despite the spanking Marcus administered, he still seemed to care a great deal about Appia’s happiness, about her reuniting with her family.

  Suddenly, Lyla didn’t want to betray his confidence because of her own bitterness. But she couldn’t accept that this sweet, pretty girl would marry a stranger, solely based on Marcus’ word.

  Lyla’s shoulders slumped. This wasn’t the modern world, but ancient Rome. Things like this probably happened all the time.

  But damn! Lyla’s hand knotted into a fist at her side. If Appia gave her the slightest indication that she wasn’t happy, Lyla would endure the worst beating imaginable to stop this archaic bullshit.

  “Lyla, I want you to know that I am very pleased about all this.” Appia’s smile lit her entire face, but then it drooped just a bit. “Except, that I will miss this household, and everyone in it.” She took Lyla’s hand in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I have experienced great kindness here, and, well, forgiveness.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The master is still allowing me to meet his friend, Cletus. We will all share a meal, so I can get acquainted with my future.” She smiled. “I mean, my future husband.”

  “But why do you say, the master is still allowing it to happen? Did you do something that made him change his mind?”

  She thought of that spanking Marcus gave Appia.

  Appia’s eyes darted around then drew Lyla off to the side. She raised her gown, revealing her bottom, now tinged a deep pink shade.

  Lyla licked her lips. “Wh-what happened?”

  Appia spoke almost in a whisper. “I stole from the master.”

  “Oh, Appia, why? For what reason?”

  “I thought about what you said to me when you first got here. About making choices for my future. I figured if I could steal some gold cups and sell them, that I might escape my fate.”

  Lyla sighed. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that you should voice how you feel about things. That you should have a say in your life.”

  “I understand that all now, but at the time, I didn’t.”

  “So I guess Marcus found out about you stealing from him?”

  “Yes, he did. I felt so bad about it, that I confessed all to the master, and when he told me about the plans he had for me to meet Cletus, and that I would see my family again…”

  Lyla’s eyes widened. “He told you about that?”

  “Yes, and I was so ashamed about what I’d done. About taking those cups from him.”

  Lyla gripped her shoulders again. “Do you realise Marcus could have had you killed for stealing from him?”

  A shudder tore through Appia. “Yes, I do. He told me so, too.”

  “Appia, you should have told me what you planned to do. Marcus confided in me about you reuniting with your family.” She shook her head. “I could have prevented this.”

  “No, Lyla. You are not to blame.”

  “Yes, I am. I should have kept my big mouth shut when I first got here.”

  “It is my own fault. I thought that stealing would somehow allow me to buy my way out of everything.”

  “It just made it worse for you.” Lyla could barely meet Appia’s gaze.

  “Yes, it did.”

  “And that’s why Marcus be—I mean, punished you?”

  “Well.” Appia’s face reddened. “That’s not the only reason.”

  Lyla frowned. “What then?”

  “I begged him to forgive me for taking what belonged to him.”

  Lyla recalled how Appia got on her knees before Marcus.

  “Did he?”

  “Yes.”

  Lyla shook her head. “Then why did he punish you anyway?”

  “Because he asked me who filled my head with doubts about the marriage.”

  Uh, oh… “D-did you tell him that it was me who did that?”

  Appia shook her head. “No.”

  “But why?”

  “Perhaps because I knew how unhappy you were when you first came here, how you longed to escape. I remembered feeling that way once, too, when I first arrived in the master’s house. I knew you didn’t mean what you said, and well, whatever I chose to believe, the decision I made to steal from the master was mine alone. You didn’t aide me in that.”

  Lyla slumped against the wall. “But I did say all that about making your own choices.”

  Appia placed a hand on Lyla’s arm. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that the Master forgave me, and I can still meet Cletus. As it turns out, the Master told me that nothing will happen unless I’m truly in agreement with it.”

  Trust Marcus to turn the tables on her! Here she thought he’d commanded Appia to marry his friend.

  Suddenly, Lyla longed to be forgiven for her role in messing everything up for this young girl. She couldn’t allow Appia to take the rap for something that she’d instigated. She didn’t know how to approach Marcus and ask for chastisement…or forgiveness.

  Besides, she was still angry with him for his lies. She didn’t want anything to do with him, or did she? How would she get what she truly deserved and needed from him?

  Lyla looked down at Appia’s hand. It felt soft and smooth, her skin fragrant with a fruity, floral scent. Cletus would have to be crazy not to fall instantly in love with her. Envy crept into her heart, making her feel small and bitter.

  How she wished so many times for the same thing for herself—for a man to fall head over heels in love with her. Maybe, as she had thought once before, nothing really had changed in a couple of thousand years.

  Lyla returned Appia’s grin. “Your future is your husband. He will fall madly in love with you.”

  Appia gave a slight bow. “Thank you, mistress.” She walked away, stopping for a second. Turning her head, she uttered in a hushed voice, “I wish the same for you, too.”

  Lyla’s eyes stung. She choked on tears while she made her way to the bath, not bothering to summon her ornators. She desired solitude, needing to lick her secret emotional wounds in private.

  When she entered the baths, she discovered Marcus there. He swam in the pool, diving headfirst into the fragrant, steamy water. When he surfaced, he shook his dark head, droplets of water spraying into the air.

  She was about to leave when he called out to her.

  “Join me, Lyla.” He swam to the ledge. His voice dipped an octave. “I would be your ornator and wash you.”

  She angled her chin. “No, thank you.”

  “You are still angry with me.”

  She folded her arms across her breasts. “I’m always angry with people who lie to me.”

  “And I am very sorry for it, but Lyla, I…”

  “What?” Her heart raced.

  “I just didn’t want you to leave.”

  She blinked once, not quite registering what she heard.

  “Can you forgive me for being selfish? For wanting you to stay?”

  He wanted her… When was the last time anyone desired me? Oh, but I want so much more from you, Marcus.

  How could she forgive him, when she couldn’t absolve herself for causing Appia’s lashing? She couldn’t assuage her culpability, choosing to hold onto her anger for Marcus. It was a much safer emotion to deal with.

  He rested his forearms on the ledge. Then he placed his chin atop his hands.

  “Time travelling isn’t an entitlement, you must earn it, discovering new and wonderful things about yourself. That’s why that gemma didn’t release you and propel you forwards, to your own time.”

  “I wish you’d stop talking about that, for I don’t believe a word.”

  “I think you do.” His dark eyes bored into hers.

  “I know that I hate you. That is something I’ve discovered.”

  His dark eyes flashed. “Now, who’s the liar?” He frowned, glancing at her chest. “Why do you not display your magnificent breasts?”

  Her bold
ness returned. She shoved down her dress, revealing her naked chest. “There. Happy now?” She quickly pushed her gown upwards, giving him a smug look.

  He shook his head, sadness lining his face. “I would rather you argue with me.”

  “But I’m supposed to obey your every command, aren’t I?”

  He grinned. “Ah. That’s better.”

  “What?” She frowned.

  “You just debated with me.” He chuckled. “It always amazes me how easily I can draw you in.”

  She walked over to the pool, sticking her foot in the water. She raised her toes high in the air, pushing water into his face.

  He growled low in his throat then grasped her around the ankle. She lost her balance and toppled over into the pool. She came up sputtering.

  “You don’t play fair!” She heaved her body over to the side, her wet garment weighing her down.

  “That wasn’t nice to splash water in your master’s face.”

  She turned around and hit the water’s surface with her hand, making a wide arc. In the next instant, a huge wave hit Marcus in the face. She scrambled from the pool before he could catch her. Her pulse raced with delight. This is what she loved best, to get back at him.

  She hoped he would punish her for it. And for what she did to Appia.

  His dark, smouldering look sent a pleasant zing through her body. “You got away with that, my sweet, but you won’t always.”

  * * * *

  She waited in her room, expecting Marcus to come storming in. She hoped he would drag her to that room filled with whips.

  Time passed, but when Marcus didn’t show, she left her room, encountering Decimus in the hallway. “Where is the master?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.

  “He is still entertaining his friend and Appia.”

  “Oh.” She chewed on her lower lip, hoping she hid her disappointment. Marcus’ damned appointment with his friend was more important than her. Why couldn’t he just leave Appia alone with Cletus? Did Marcus have to be there, as well?

  Decimus seemed to read her mind. “His Excellency must make sure that Cletus and he come to an agreement on Appia’s dowry. A portion will be placed in her hands, should she decide this marriage is not for her. Cletus wants a willing bride, and well, they both want Appia’s happiness.”