The Roman's Revenge

by Caroline Storer

  Very well indeed. She could see the many hours spent working on the ship had honed his body to the peak of physical perfection, if the width of his shoulders were anything to go by. His skin was a deep golden bronze, testimony to his work outside. His hair, a deep dark brown, almost black like a raven’s wing, had lifted with the breeze which blew in off the sea, and Livia had wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through it and feel the strength of him as she pulled him into her arms…

  She had to acknowledge he was one of the most physically perfect specimens of manhood she’d ever seen. He even rivalled the gladiators she had seen perform in Rome’s arenas.

  Mesmerised by his physical beauty, her eyes had been drawn to the one thing that marred his perfection – a scar which ran across his left cheek up into the hairline of his dark brown hair. But even the scar didn’t detract from the handsomeness of his face, rather it added to it, giving him a hardened, tough look which made her heart beat faster. Temptation had clawed at her, a powerful urge, that made her want to step forward and reach out her hand to stroke the hard planes of his face, to feel the strength of his body for herself.

  But she hadn’t of course. Dutiful daughters, and half-sisters, of one of Rome’s most powerful families didn’t do rebellious things like that. To do so would be to ruin her, and her family’s reputations. And the reputation, and standing of the Drusii amongst Rome’s elite, was the one thing which had been drummed into Livia from the moment she had been born.

  So she shook her fanciful thoughts away. Thinking about handsome men, and how their body would feel against hers as he kissed her was the thinking of young, foolish girls. And Livia was anything but foolish. Livia was practical, and dutiful, which was why she was on-board this ship, and on her way to marry someone she detested.

  But for a moment she could dream couldn’t she?

  CHAPTER 2

  The door to her cabin flew open with such a loud crash as it slammed against the wooden wall, it caused Livia to jump in shock. Trembling with fear, she lowered her hands; hands which had been clamped over her ears in the vain hope of drowning out the noise of the storm that had been raging for hours now, and the even more pitiful screams of the slaves trapped in the galley below.

  She was about to get up from where she had sat huddled on her bunk to close the door, when eyes widened, and her breath hitched in something approaching fear, as she met the shadowed silhouette of the mocking stranger she had seen on her first day on board the ship three days ago.

  Only this time, there was no trace of mockery on his partially shadowed face as he stood there.

  Water streamed down his face, and his wet hair was plastered to his skull. His jaw was clenched so tightly, Livia could see a nerve pulsing there. His muscular chest rose and fell with exertion, the force of the storm raging outside obviously so fierce, he’d used every ounce of his strength to make his way to her cabin.

  Once again Livia’s impression of him was of raw hard power, all broad shoulders and bulging biceps. His soaking wet tunic clung and moulded every muscle and sinew of his massive body, and she could even see the delineations of the slabs of hard muscle of his stomach through the thin material. Instantly she became aware of his potent masculinity.

  As he stood silhouetted in the doorway of her cabin, filling the space with his height and breadth, Livia stared at him, unable to break eye contact, as if she were some small forest animal awaiting its fate at the hands of a much larger beast. She stiffened when he stepped into the cabin, his bulk shrinking the space with the full force of his presence.

  Finally, she was able to see his eyes for the first time as he stepped in from the relative darkness behind him, and Livia couldn’t stop the tremor that shook her when she met his piercing gaze. A gaze, she noticed, which bored into hers with no emotion whatsoever evident in their grey depths.

  His face was an inscrutable mask, and she realised with a jolt, he seemed to be fighting his own internal battle, as if he were somehow questioning his own reasoning as to why he was here in her cabin.

  “Come with me. It is your only chance of staying alive,” he finally said, his voice rough as he stepped further into the cabin. He held his hand out towards her, the gesture forceful, demanding her attention, his open palm commanding a response from her.

  Livia hesitated, unsure what to do as she weighed up his words. Her reluctance to go with him must have annoyed him, because she saw his lips flatten in irritation, and anger blazed in his grey eyes at her perceived resistance.

  “If you do not come with me you will drown. Now give me your hand. Up on deck you will have a far better chance of survival.”

  “But what about Magia? I…I can’t leave without Magia,” Livia pleaded, her eyes going to where her tire-woman lay comatose on the other bunk.

  She saw him frown, before he looked away from her to where the old woman lay on her bunk bed.

  “What ails her?” He demanded, his words clipped, harsh.

  “She has been suffering with the sea sickness. She has been so very ill and I have been looking after her. When…when the storm started she fainted and I cannot rouse her.”

  The man’s frown deepened, and the nerve twitching along his jaw line pulsed harder as he gritted his jaw, making the scar on his left cheek stand out even more before his eyes once more impaled hers. “I can’t take you both,” he bit out, “I need all my strength to fight the storm.”

  “But I can’t leave without her! Please, I beg you. Help her,” Livia pleaded. She couldn’t leave Magia. The poor woman had been petrified from the first moment she had set foot on the trireme, and had been a virtual recluse in their cabin ever since. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she had suffered from such terrible sea sickness Livia had spent the whole time on board the ship tending to her. She couldn’t leave her; her conscience just wouldn’t let her.

  The man stood staring down at her, before he nodded abruptly, “Come up on deck with me first, and I will return for her,” he said, his voice demanding, as he stared at her with a dark brooding look on his face.

  Livia looked up into his harsh face for a long moment. Realising she had to trust him to return for Magia, she nodded in acquiescence and uncurled her body. As she stood up, she placed her left hand on the cabin wall to steady herself. The ship was rolling so much, she was in serious danger of falling flat on her face.

  “Give me your hand.”

  Livia looked up in surprise, but seeing the closed look on his face she didn’t protest, and she held out her other hand. She was immediately aware of the smallness of her hand being enveloped in his much larger one, felt a jolt of awareness shudder through her when the flesh of her hand met the flesh of his. And even though his hand was as wet as the rest of him, the heat emanating from his skin where it touched hers was enough to make her look up at him in wonder.

  He didn’t seem to be affected by her touch, as all she saw on his face was bland indifference. But then all thoughts of his touch disappeared, and her breath escaped on a gasp when he pulled her forward so she came within touching distance of his large body.

  “W…what are you doing?” She squeaked, trying to pull her hand out of his firm grip, when she saw he was trying to wrap some rope around her waist with his free hand.

  He yanked her hand back, and trapped it in his strong grip, carrying on with his task, his face grim. “I’m tying the rope around your waist so you don’t get washed overboard. Now be still woman.”

  His rough command halted her movements, and she watching in stunned fascination as he tied the rope first around her waist, and then around his own, and Livia couldn’t help noticing how the rope cut into the tunic he wore, emphasising once more the sheer strength of his body.

  “No matter what happens on deck, stay as close to me as you possibly can.”

  Lost for words, all Livia could do was nod her head, but she wasn’t even sure if he had seen her gesture, as he had already turned to walk out of the cabin.

  A series of li
ghtning flashes illuminated the lower deck as Livia followed in his wake, before he started to climb the wooden steps leading up to the top deck of the ship. Livia squealed in shock when a deluge of icy cold water crashed down through the open hatch, soaking them both. Shivering with cold, and trepidation, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing the right thing. Did she really have a better chance of survival up on the top deck, there at the full mercy of the raging storm? Rather hysterically, she realised, she didn’t have much choice about it as she was irrevocably joined to the man by a thick rope.

  As they climbed up the slippery steps, Livia heard the huge timbers of the ship creak all around them as the vessel fought against the forces of nature. The noise was so frightening, it was as if the ship were screaming its own protest about being battered by the storm.

  Once she reached the top rung of the ladder, a hand was thrust down towards her. “Take my hand, and don’t let go, or you will be washed overboard.”

  She placed her hand in his, the smallness of hers lost once more in the strength of his, as she allowed herself to be pulled up onto the deck of the heaving ship. Once she was standing on the deck she was unprepared for the force of the wind as it tore through the thin silk of her gown, the lashing rain saturating the fabric so it moulded against the slimness of her body, hampering her movements. Icy tentacles of cold speared her, and her teeth started chattering. She turned to where the man stood, his free arm holding onto one of the wooden masts as he used every ounce of his strength to stop them both being swept overboard.

  He pulled her roughly into his body, so they stood fused to each other as he used the thickness of the mast as a makeshift shelter. Shock coursed through her as she realised how close they were, breast to breast, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. If it had been any other situation she’d found herself in, she would have been mortified at the intimacy of their embrace.

  But this was survival. Pure and simple.

  Deep in her heart, even though she didn’t want to acknowledge it, she knew he had lied to her. There was no way he would be able to go back and fetch Magia. The sheer ferocity of the storm would make it a suicide mission, and if she was brutally honest with herself she didn’t want him to release her. She knew her only hope of survival lay with him. Tied to him – literally.

  As the howling winds screamed above their heads, the storm raging all around them, Livia burrowed deeper into the solid strength of the man who held her. She had never been so frightened in all her life as wave, after wave, of ice cold water crashed over them time and time again, battering them both with its intensity and ferocity.

  “If we get washed overboard, you must kick out as hard as you can. If you don’t, you will drown. Do you understand?”

  Livia heard his words shouted above the cacophony of noise which swirled around them, as the storm lifted the huge ship higher into the night sky before a great swell rolled in once again from the dark depths of the ocean.

  “Yes!” She shouted, just before another deluge of icy water washed over her, choking her, salty water filling her mouth and nose, threatening to suck the very life out of her lungs.

  The crest of the wave passed beneath them, and the massive ship dropped like a stone, and water once again cascaded down the length of the deck. Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, another massive wave tore through the ship, and this time the stranger’s strength wasn’t enough to protect them as they were washed along the length of the ship, powerless and totally at the mercy of the mighty storm.

  Livia screamed with terror as they were tossed into the air like leaves blown about by the wind. For a moment she felt free as she flew through the air, but the feeling came to an abrupt end when she fell into the freezing cold sea, salt water once again filling her mouth, rushing down into her already tortured lungs.

  She felt herself being pulled up, against the force of the water, and then she remembered she was still tied to the man. The rope tightened as he pulled her towards him, his arm wrapping around her waist as he lifted her above the crashing waves, enabling her to draw in a vital breath of air. For a moment she felt safe in his arms, but it didn’t last long as another wave washed over them.

  “Kick!”

  The order permeated her frightened subconscious, and she did as he ordered, trying her best to kick as hard as she could, even though the fabric of her silk gown clung to her, hampering the movement of her legs.

  She didn’t know how long they stayed in the water, both of them kicking frantically against the massive waves. The blackness of the night overwhelmed her, and she wondered if she would die tonight wrapped in the arms of a total stranger. A man whose name she didn’t even know! And with that thought, she felt the urge to laugh, as a feeling of hysteria consumed her. But when a dark shape shot out of the ocean and hit her, striking her on the temple, she mercifully felt herself slipping into blessed darkness.

  It was the groans which woke her. A slow, painful, awakening, she did her utmost to fight, the pounding in her head so severe, she never wanted to open her eyes again. She didn’t want to wake up; didn’t want to face the all-consuming fear she had felt when she had been thrown into the icy waters of the ocean. She wanted to sleep forever, safe in the cocoon of her dreams-

  “Shh. Lie still or you will injure yourself.” The whispered words soothed her fear, as they permeated her foggy mind. Comprehension dawned, when she realised the moans she had heard, were in actual fact her own.

  She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelashes seemed to be stuck together, and she felt a moments panic at the thought of never being able to see again. Then, as if she had somehow managed to communicate her distress, she felt cool water trickle over her face washing away the salty residue. She flicked out her tongue, eager for the cool water to assuage her dry throat moaning again, this time in relief.

  “Quiet now. Can you open your eyes for me?”

  She recognised the voice as being the man who’d taken her from the cabin. Opening her eyes she blinked at the brightness which assaulted her pupils. It was several moments before she was able to focus on the shadow of a man next to her. She couldn’t see any of his features as the fierceness of the sun above her cast his profile into shadow. For several seconds she lay there letting her eyes adjust to the brightness, until she was able to make out his features.

  He was leaning over her, a frown of concern on his face, and instinctively Livia raised a trembling hand up to his face, tracing a finger across the thin line of his scar. She saw the pupils of his eyes dilate at her feather light caress, saw the grey of his eyes darken at her touch.

  “What is your name?” She heard the huskiness in the tone of her voice and swallowed hard, winching at the soreness in her throat. It felt as if she had swallowed a cup of metal shards. Then she saw him frown, obviously taken aback by her question, before he leaned back on his haunches, the movement causing her hand to drop away and fall back down onto the ground.

  For several long moments he looked down at her, and Livia wondered whether he was going to ignore her question, but then he replied, “Metellus. My name is Metellus.”

  Livia smiled slightly, and closed her eyes once more, turning her head away from the searing brightness of the sun. “Metellus,” she whispered. “Thank you. Thank you for saving me.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The next time Livia woke, her headache was still there, but not as painful as before.

  Again the intensity of the bright sunlight caused her to blink, and for a few minutes she had to let her eyes adjust to the brightness. As she lay there, she could see she was sheltered under the shade of a tree whose leaves danced above her in the slight breeze.

  She was content to watch the branches sway high above her head for a moment, sunlight bouncing off the leaves in bright bursts of colour, their movement’s hypnotic. She didn’t know what type of trees they were, as they were nothing like the pruned ornamental ones which grew in the peristylium and atrium of her family home.

  Thinking of
her life back in Rome caused tears to clog her throat. Not because she missed it, but because she knew without a shadow of doubt that Magia was dead. She swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that fell. She lifted her hand and wiped away the dampness, but the small movement was enough to cause a blinding pain to crash through her head, and she gasped out loud.

  For a long moment she closed her eyes once more, and lay still, letting the pain subside, content to listen to the wind blow through the branches of the trees overhead, before she stretched her hand out, encountering the softness of wool under her fingers. The fabric protected her skin from the abrasiveness of the sand beneath, and she felt a warm glow flow through her at the kindness of the person who had taken the time to shield her from the elements.

  After a few more moments of rest, she forced her eyes to open once more. This time the pain wasn’t so brutal, and she moved her head, until she was able to look around her.

  She was in some sort of makeshift camp, high up on the shoreline, to her right she saw the beginnings of a large forest. Draped over the branches of some of the trees she saw several red woollen cloaks drying in the breeze. She recalled seeing the cloaks being worn by a small unit of soldiers who had boarded the ship the same time as she and Magia had. They, like her, had been on-route to Alexandria. Livia shivered, wondering where the men were, and whether they had survived the storm.

  Supressing her dark thoughts she turned her to the left and saw three wooden barrels lined up next to each other, acting as a makeshift table on which some wooden utensils had been placed: several bowls, spoons and a comb. Next to the barrels there were two small wooden chests, their lids open but she couldn’t see what was inside them. Her eyes were drawn to several swords propped up against one of the barrels, their metal blades glinting in the sun. Again she recognised the swords as belonging to the soldiers who had been aboard the ship. Their presence reassured her somehow, as they seemed to offer protection against an uncertain future.