The Roman's Revenge

by Caroline Storer

  And because Senators were barred from trading in commerce, such as shipping, the Drusii wealth had been their land. And apart from a small farm near the port of Brundisium, Metellus knew that most of their land holdings had been lost when Vesuvius had erupted.

  Metellus’s mouth tightened, as he wondered if the eruption had contributed to Livia’s father’s sudden decline in health. It would seem to be the logical answer.

  It would also explain why Flavius had been so active in recent months, taking over most of his father’s business affairs. Business affairs that had included borrowing vast sums of money from merchants and the moneylenders of Rome.

  It was obvious they had fallen on hard times since the eruption. Metellus also knew Flavius, in an attempt to swell the family’s coffers, had taken to gambling. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t very good at it, and he wondered if Livia knew of this latest development as she sat there in her tattered silk gown? He very much doubted it.

  So, to answer the question she had thrown at him. He hadn’t rescued her for a monetary reward. He had in fact rescued her for two reasons.

  The first reason was easy enough to answer. Revenge.

  Metellus’s jaw tightened as he remembered the exact moment he’d found out who she was, when the captain, two days into the voyage, had told him Livia was the daughter of Senator Augustus Drusus. Metellus had taken that bit of news like a blow to the stomach, so much so he’d had to restrain himself from barging into her cabin and demanding if the captain spoke the truth.

  Instead, he had held back his shock and anger, and had thought long and hard about how he could use Livia to exact revenge against her father. Livia’s father, who, through his lies and innuendo’s had spread rumours throughout Rome which had implicated Metellus’s father in a conspiracy to murder Nero. That his father was innocent was immaterial. The damage had been done. The Emperor Nero, already on the verge of madness, had believed outright the information provided by a high ranking Senator. Metellus’s father, a low ranking merchant – albeit a rich one – had no chance of pleading his innocence. Within two days of his arrest, he had been tried, found guilty of treason, and executed.

  And now, fifteen years later it was as if the gods had handed him the very tool for his revenge on a golden platter. Here, on an uninhabited island, he had at his mercy the daughter of his sworn enemy.

  Metellus’s mouth twisted as he contemplated the second reason for rescuing Livia. In short, he’d rescued her because he wanted her. He had from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, and the desire for revenge had battled with his desire to possess her body.

  Sexual hunger kicked him in the gut with the force of a wild horse. He wanted her with a primitive force which refused to go away. She was pure temptation with her wide hazel eyes, her full mouth that begged to be kissed, and a body made for his enjoyment.

  He should feel hatred for her, but instead he felt desire.

  Angry with himself for allowing his emotions to rule his head, he cursed under his breath. He needed to be stronger, fight the feelings he felt for Livia, feelings which were threatening to overtake his rational thoughts. He hadn’t come this far to allow it all to filter through his fingers like a handful of sand. Livia Drusus was the daughter of his sworn enemy, and therefore fair game in his planned revenge.

  Metellus sighed, his eyes staring out at the expanse of blue sea in front of him. There was just one major flaw in his so called plan for revenge. He had no idea whatsoever how it was going to happen. He just knew it had too…

  It was the reason he’d been feeling so unsettled ever since he’d found out who she was. And it had been the excuse he had used to persuade himself to burst into her cabin and on the night of the storm and rescue her.

  He hadn’t wanted her to die; he’d wanted her to survive so she could be the conduit in perusing his plans for revenge against her family. But as the storm had raged around them, his plans for revenge had been suspended. Because it had then become a matter of survival – pure and simple. Life or death.

  And the gods had decreed they should live. They had been given a second change, and he’d vowed to himself he would leave this island, and return to Rome, and fulfil his desire for revenge against the Drusii. And nothing was going to stop him…

  “We are going to have to leave here soon.”

  Livia looked away from the tranquil scene in front of her, and turned to where Metellus stood behind her. It had been several hours since she’d last seen him, and she had been sitting on her makeshift bed watching the ebb and flow of the waves as they lapped along the shoreline. Lifting her eyes to meet his, she saw he was watching her with hooded eyes once again, his face giving nothing away.

  “Why? Aren’t we safe here?” She kept her voice neutral, not wanting to inflame his, or her anger, again.

  Metellus’s mouth thinned, “We are safe yes, but we have virtually no food supplies left, not to mention we are in danger of running out of water.”

  It was obvious she had managed to say the wrong thing again, and she felt hot colour steal over her face, “But how can you be sure there is food and water anywhere else on this island?”

  “I can’t. But it is a gamble we have to take if we are to survive.”

  When she said nothing more he carried on, “We will break camp in the morning.” He then walked over to one of the wooden chests, and took out some black twisted strips.

  “Here,” he said, handing over one of the strips. “Eat.”

  Livia took what he handed to her, a frown of confusion on her face, for some reason loathe to take the offensive looking substance off him. Wrinkling her nose she asked, “What is it?”

  “Salted meat.”

  Her face screwed up with displeasure, but before she could say anything more Metellus bit out, “I realise that it is not what you are used too. But we are not at one of your father’s elaborate banquets now. You haven’t eaten for days. So do you eat it, or do I have to force it down your throat?”

  Livia bristled at his sarcastic tone, and her small jaw clamped shut. Reaching out her hand she snatched the salted beef out of his hand, biting a small piece off, her mouth twisting at the sour taste of it, but she refused to look away from him, her eyes defiant. His, she noticed, were still unreadable as he watched her.

  “When you’ve finished, you will need to sleep, as we will be leaving early in the morning.”

  Effecting a mocking salute at him, she retorted, “Yes sir!”

  Livia realised she’d gone one step too far, when he strode across to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her upwards so she fell against him. Hard. He then sat down on one of the barrels, and Livia couldn’t stop the yelp of surprise as she tumbled full length onto his lap, instantly aware of her softness colliding with the hardness of his body.

  “This is no joke, Livia,” he snapped. “This is survival, yours and mine. If you don’t want to live, then stay here, but I am leaving tomorrow. But if you decide to come with me, you will have to carry your fair share of equipment. I will not tolerate any feminine antics from you. Do you understand?”

  Livia nodded, refusing to answer him, but her nod of acquiescence was enough to appease Metellus, as his face softened and he continued speaking, “If I tell you to do something, you will do it. This place is not going to lift up its hands in supplication and make things easier for you, just because you are the daughter of a Roman Senator. We have to be constantly on our guard. It’s going to be tough, and we may not survive anyway. Do you understand?”

  For some reason, Livia felt like crying, hurt by his words, but she bit her lip. Was she that selfish? That shallow?

  Not wanting him to see her tears, she turned away, trying to pull her hand out of his grip. But he didn’t let go, and if anything his grip tightened, giving Livia no choice but to look up at him.

  “Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone demanding an answer.

  “Yes.” She whispered, trying once again to break free.

  But
still he refused to let go of her hand, and she looked up at him, his inscrutable gaze once again bearing down on her. For several long seconds their eyes battled with each other, until hers widened in alarm when she saw his head lower, as inch, by slow inch, his mouth came closer until it met the softness of hers.

  “Oh!” She gasped, her eyes closing, as his firm lips pressed against hers. It was a kiss like no other. And when his free hand lifted to cup the soft skin of her jaw, he exerted enough pressure she had no choice but to open her mouth. She sighed as his mouth took hers, with a hunger which frightened her with its intensity.

  It was everything she’d ever imagined a kiss would be, and her heart soared, her other hand lifting and gripping his broad shoulder. The movement bought her closer to his body, and her softness moulded to the hardness of his. It reminded her of the time aboard the ship when they had been as close as they were now. Then it had been about survival, but now it was about pleasure. Their pleasure.

  She felt an unfamiliar, but powerful pull of attraction for this man as his tongue demanded entrance to the softness of her mouth, and she acquiesced, allowing it to enter, to mate with hers, unable to stop her low moan of desire. Never in all her life had she been kissed with such passion, and she opened her mouth wider, glorying in the pleasure his mouth and tongue was bringing her, and as the kiss deepened in its intensity, this time it was his moan of desire she heard.

  His hand loosened its hold on hers, and settled on the full curve of her hip, pulling her forward. She clung to him, as if she’d somehow lost the ability to stand, feeling every hard plane of his body imprinted against hers.

  Her breasts pressed against his chest, her stomach moulded the hardness of his lower groin, making her painfully aware of his erection. Heat pooled in her lower belly, causing a melting sensation to flood through her when his hands slid further around her back moving downwards to cup the softness of her buttocks.

  She didn’t know how long the kiss lasted - a minute, an hour, eternity - but she only became aware of its ending when Metellus pulled away, and her hands; hands which had somehow entwined themselves in the crisp dark hair at the nape of his neck, fell away.

  “Oh!” She said again, whether from disappointment, or shock, she couldn’t say, and she blinked, trying to adjust to the present as she watched him move away, his bearing now stiff and rigid.

  “That shouldn’t have happened. Rest assured madam, it won’t again.”

  The words were harsh, guttural, insulting even, and before Livia could say anything, Metellus strode off towards the seashore.

  She stared after him, a frown of frustration creasing her brow as she worried her lower lip, aware it throbbed from the force of his kiss. She knew, if she were able to see them, they would be kiss ravaged, red, full, wet and glistening. As she stood there watching him walk away from her – again – she had to bite back the urge to shout after him; to demand he return and explain what had just happened between them.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she watched as he walked away from her wondering how on earth she was going to cope for the next few days – weeks even. Cope, not only with his ever changing moods, but rather worryingly with the growing desire she felt for him. This stranger who had rescued her, a man whom she knew nothing about, but with every instinct she possessed screaming at her, telling her that he seemed to know an awful lot about her, and her family. And what he did know, he didn’t like, or trust, one bit.

  CHAPTER 5

  Dawn couldn’t come soon enough, Livia thought, as she lay there watching the black night turn to a dusty pink, bringing with it another day.

  A new day in which they would head out, and try and survive the unknown perils inflicted on them by this remote island. She turned, and bit back a small groan as her muscles protested in anger at the hardness of the sand beneath her thin cloak.

  She’d hardly slept at all last night, tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position, lying there, hour after hour listening to the alien sound of another person sleeping next to her. It had guaranteed a sleepless night. Metellus, on the other hand had slept the whole night through if his deep, even breathing was any indication!

  “Are you awake?”

  His words startled her, and her eyes swivelled to where he lay on his makeshift bed. She couldn’t see his features, because he still lay on his back. How on earth did he know she was awake? Was the man cursed with some sort of magical powers? She was tempted to ignore him, but she remembered his orders yesterday, about their survival, and how she had to obey his commands, so she thought better of it. “Yes. Yes I am.”

  “Good. Let’s get started. I want to break camp and head off as soon as possible.”

  And with those brief words, he rose, and started packing their meagre possessions away. Livia sighed. Today was going to be a long day. A very long day indeed.

  Several hours later, Livia was wishing she had stayed abed as she took one more agonising step forward. Every muscle in her body screamed out in protest and she lifted a shaking hand to wipe the sweat off her face. They had been walking for the best part of the morning, and she didn’t know if she could take another step. Her head pounded, as she desperately fought back a wave of nausea.

  “Metellus! Could…could I beg a little water please?” Those were the first words which had been spoken between them since they had arisen and broken camp. Metellus had been remarkable tight lipped since they had set off. No doubt he was still regretting kissing her yesterday…

  Thankfully he stopped walking, and glanced across at her. His countenance was stiff and unyielding and Livia couldn’t help but notice that he looked more like a soldier than someone who toiled aboard a ship. He was wearing one of the red cloaks, obviously to protect his skin against the blistering sun. Strapped to his waist was one of the soldiers’ swords, and his bare muscled arms glinted with sweat from his exertions. Livia shivered at the masculine image he portrayed, as he stood watching her. He looked ready for battle rather than walking across endless miles of sand…

  But when he saw her face he frowned, and dropped the makeshift sleigh he’d been dragging behind him, and walked over to her. With gentle fingers he lifted her chin. Something shifted in his eyes as he frowned down at her. “Are you ill?” he asked, his voice uncharacte‌ristically soft.

  “No not ill, just-” The words ended abruptly, when she fell forward, dropping the cloaks and some utensils she had been carrying, before everything went blank.

  With lightening reflexes Metellus lunged forward, reaching for Livia just in time, so she fell into his arms and not onto the hot sand. He wrapped his arms around her. She felt so slight, so fragile, her bones as delicate as a bird he’d once held in the palm of his hand. Her arms flopped down by the side of her body, and Metellus lifted her higher so he now held her against the hard wall of his chest.

  With an unconscious movement he dropped his chin until it rested on the top of her head, the gesture one of protection as he tried to ignore the press of breasts against the hardness of his muscles. But their fullness tempted him, so soft, like a plump cushion that he wanted to lay his head on and savour the sweetness of them with his mouth and tongue-

  “Hades!” He cursed, annoyed with himself for once again falling under the spell of attraction he felt for this woman.

  He lowered her to the ground, his movements gentle, and once he was certain she was a comfortable as possible he looked up at the sky. The sun was at its zenith, and they had been walking during the hottest part of day. What had possessed him to allow her to walk for so long in the heat? It was obvious she wasn’t strong enough to cope with the gruelling pace he had set since early that morning.

  He had to get her out of the sun; so once again he lifted her into his arms, and walked back up the shoreline so she could at least benefit from the shade of the trees. Once he had lowered her onto the sparse grass which grew there, he ran back down to where he had left their supplies.

  He untied the barrel of water from the
makeshift sleigh of branches he’d made, his fingers fumbling with the leather strips which had been used to secure it; strips he’d taken from the sandals of the dead soldiers he’d had to bury. As he worked at the knots he cursed himself once more. He had been so preoccupied with trying to find out whether or not there was any life on the island, he had dismissed Livia out of hand.

  And if he was honest with himself, he had deliberately blocked her out of his subconscious, trying to forget how good she had felt in his arms last night when he had kissed her. It was a kiss he had wanted to forget, and he had to some extent, but it had been at her expense!

  Once he had the barrel upright, he opened the lid and reached for the small wooden bowl floating inside. Scooping out some of the precious water, ignoring the fact they had so little left, he walked back up to where Livia lay. She was still unconscious, her breathing rapid and shallow and he dropped to his knees. With shaking hands, he once again trickled water into her mouth, like he had done on the five days previous when she had lain unconscious.

  The coolness of the water trickling down her throat was like ambrosia from the Gods and Livia flicked out her tongue, tasting the sweetness of it, desperate for more.

  “Not too much, or you will make yourself ill.”

  At Metellus’s whispered words, Livia opened her eyes and saw him kneeling over her. Concern was etched on his face, reflected in the darkened grey of his eyes.

  “What…what happened?” She asked, aware of the huskiness of her voice as it rasped past her dry throat.