He never asked her about how her day had been, not even a thank you for keeping the small cave clean, and tidy, as best she could. But her rebellious mind said she didn’t want or need his thanks. All they had to do was tolerate each other until the ship arrived.
Once again they ate a silent meal, Metellus taking up his usual position by the fire, staring into the white hot embers, as he ate his rabbit and tore off huge hunks of bread from the loaves the lepers provided for them. When he had taken his fill of food, he took his wooden plate and dumped it in the bowl, for her to wash up. When she had finished this chore, she would enter the cave and find he’d already gone to bed, having used several of the red cloaks as makeshift curtains to separate their sleeping quarters from each other. If Livia were not such a patient person she would have screamed in raw frustration by now.
She dumped the piece of rag she used to wash the dishes with unbridled force, and was about to enter the cave but stopped, halted in her tracks, when she saw that instead of retiring to his bed, Metellus was standing in the opening, with several red capes tucked underneath his arm.
“I intend to sleep outside tonight.” He said in answer to the unspoken question which must have shown on her face.
“But why? The nights get very cold. What is the point of shivering to death when the cave is warm and dry?”
“You ask too many questions, woman,” he bit out, his voice hard, “Just take it that I am. And will be until the ship arrives.”
As he strode past her, Livia felt a wave of anger assail her and she placed her hands on her hips in annoyance, before shouting at his retreating back, “You are safe from me you know. I won’t attack you in the middle of the night.”
At her words he froze, and she saw his shoulders stiffen before he turned to face her, his face in shadow. She swallowed hard, but stood her ground when he came back to stand next to her, ignoring the fluttering of her heart as he stared down at her for a long moment.
One dark brow sketched upwards, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards in a parody of a smile. When he spoke, his tone was low, throaty, “I may be safe, Livia. But you most definitely are not.”
She huffed her breath in frustration. “Why?” She goaded. “Why am I not safe?”
Metellus dropped the capes and raked a hand through his hair, the gesture one of anger as his eyes bored into hers. “Because I want you in the way a man wants a woman. I want to pull your hips to mine and drive myself deep inside your body until I’m so far inside that we are practically fused together.”
His words shocked her into stillness, and she saw his mouth lift once more, as if her response had somehow amused him. Then his face turned serious, “Don’t look at me that way, Livia.”
“What way?” She whispered, feeling a sense of wonder, of power, wash over her.
“Like you want to be in my arms, and you want me to kiss you and never stop. Like this-” He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, his mouth finding hers in a heartbeat. His kiss was hungry, but Livia met his passion as an equal. As his hands moved over her hips, pulling her closer into the hardness of his body Livia gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to enter.
He moaned, shifting his stance, so he was able to scoop her up into his arms. Without breaking their kiss he walked back into the cave and placed her on his bed, his body following her down until they were both lying side by side.
She could feel his arousal pulsing against her stomach as he pulled her closer. “I want you so much,” he growled when he finally broke off their kiss. “But you need to be sure this is what you want, Livia. Very sure, because there is no going back.” His eyes bored into hers, hot with desire.
“This attraction between the two of us needs to be assuaged. But nothing will come of it. Nothing.”
The hardness in his voice acted like a splash of cold water. Livia pulled away from him, a feeling of dread coursing through her. “Why do you hate my family so much? What did my father do?”
He stared down at her, and she saw a myriad of expressions flit over his face. Anger, frustration, desire all battled against each other. Then he removed his arms from around her and rose from the bed, his body stiff.
For a long moment he stared down at her, and Livia had to fight the urge to beg him to stay. Curling her fingers into the palm of her hands to keep from reaching out to him once more she made herself lay still as she looked up at him.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that he turned and strode out of the cave, and it was only after he’d left that Livia realised he hadn’t answered her questions.
A quiver of awareness coursed through her as she recalled how quickly his passion for her had erupted. Metellus had confessed he’d wanted her, and she felt her stomach curl, as red hot longing flowed through her. She had power over a man in the only way a woman could. And for a small moment it made her feel good. Very good indeed…
But what to do about it? It would be so easy to run after him, beg him to kiss her, make love to her. But dare she? Could she? For agonising minutes she lay there, until the coldness of the night air made her shiver, this time in trepidation, rather than longing.
“You are a coward, Livia Drusus. A big coward.” She whispered to herself. Somehow, she didn’t think she would be able to sleep for many hours to come, not when she kept thinking back to what Metellus had said, and done to her. That, and the thought of his hard muscular body tossing and turning on the hard ground outside, when all the while there was a soft pallet here inside the cave…
CHAPTER 8
The next morning Livia woke with a start, her heart racing for some reason she couldn’t fathom, and she glanced around the cave. But there was no one in the cave to have disturbed her, and she shook away the sudden feeling of unease which came over her.
She was alone. Metellus had kept his word and had slept outside; and if she were honest with herself she missed his presence in the cave. There was something about him that demanded her attention, and she wanted him to spend more time in her company.
It was if she craved something more, something she couldn’t quite identify, as if she had transformed overnight from an introverted girl into an attractive woman with the power to lure a man as virile as Metellus. She had been so tempted last night to make love with him. But it was apparent that he was a man in control of his life, and his emotions. She very much doubted he ever lost control.
He would have made love with her, but what price would she have had to pay for allowing it? She didn’t think he would care one iota what her feelings would be.
Yes, he had looked at her as if she were some sort of forbidden fruit, and as their gazes had locked, and her pulse had beat heavy, it was as if he knew all of her secret desires, and was capable of satisfying them.
She’d wanted to abandon caution and run into his arms. To beg him to make love to her. To take her to the ends of the world and never come back. But even though she cherished the heated looks he gave her, she knew that all he wanted from her was her body. He didn’t care about her – Livia - the person. All she would be to him was a convenience. A woman to take pleasure from, rise and then just walk away. But she was far better than that. She was worth more than that…
Getting up, she stretched, feeling the kinks in her muscles protest at the restless night’s sleep she’d had. She shook off her dark thoughts and got dressed, before she left the relative security, and peace, of the cave and ventured out.
Squinting against the bright sunlight, she saw that the area outside the cave was deserted. Metellus had long since left to go hunting, so she walked over to the wooden bucket and washed her hands and face relishing the peace and quiet. Once she had finished her ablutions she turned to re-enter the cave. But she stopped short, when she heard a noise, and saw a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw a goat, a nanny goat if she wasn’t mistaken, tethered to a nearby tree, munching on the long dry grass which grew there.
She
walked over to the goat, her steps slow, so as not to frighten it. It must have been left for them by the lepers from the colony, and once again Livia was taken aback by the kindness they had shown her, and Metellus, ever since they had arrived. They would now be able to have fresh milk to supplement their limited diet.
Once she reached the goat, she clicked her tongue, the action designed not to startle the animal; but she saw with some amusement, the goat, far from being scared, ignored her as it carried on eating the grass. It was obvious the animal was used to human contact, and Livia hoped that boded well for making the task of milking it easier.
Not that she had ever milked a goat before. She knew the task of milking would be down to her. It only seemed right. Metellus did the hunting, so she would do the milking. The only thing was how? Turning, she ran back to the cave and picked up two wooden buckets which had been provided for their use. Once she had returned, she placed one bucket upside down so she could sit on it, and placed the other underneath the goat’s teats.
She sat down, and was just about to try and milk the goat when a noise – a squeak of sorts – made her jump. Looking over to the nearby copse of trees she heard the noise intensify, and with a sense of shock she realised what the noise was. It was a baby’s cry!
Getting up, she walked slowly over to the trees, and soon saw two large straw baskets lying under the shade of one of the larger trees. With a feeling of trepidation she knelt down, and opened out one of the baskets. Her breath hitched when she saw a baby wrapped in a thin cotton blanket. The baby’s arms and legs were outstretched, its face mottled red as it cried out in distress. Livia’s heart went out at the sight, and with an instinct as old as time, she reached down with both her hands and picked it up. With a gentle action she jigged the baby in her arms, the movements designed to soothe it. After a few moments her actions had the desired effect, as the baby stopped crying, and stared up at her in fascination. Livia smiled, “Aren’t you beautiful?” She whispered, “But I think you are hungry too. Am I right?”
The baby let out a gurgle as if to say ‘yes’ and Livia chuckled. Cradling the child close to her chest, she sat down on a nearby tree trunk, and rocked the baby, crooning baby words and phrases so as not to frighten it. Once the baby had settled somewhat, she removed the thin cotton covering, and was able to see the child was a baby girl. Mercifully, it seemed to be free of the leprosy, having none of the scabs and sores associated with the disease. She realised with a small smile, she hadn’t even considered not picking her up; as she was convinced that whoever had given birth to the baby wouldn’t have compromised Livia’s health, if the child had been born with the disease
Although the baby was well fed, it was still incredibly small for its age and Livia could tell she was not a new born baby either. If she were to hazard a guess, the little girl was about two months old, maybe even three.
She’d had some limited experience with children, as Portia’s sister, Attia, had three young children, the youngest only six months old, and Livia and Portia had helped care, and nurse, all three of Attia’s children. This baby, compared to Attia’s children was a lot smaller, suggesting she may have been born prematurely.
Continuing to rock the baby, Livia leaned over and rummaged in the other straw basket which had obviously been left there for the child needs. She was relieved to see the mother had left some clothes, and pieces of cloth to be used for the baby’s toilet needs.
She also saw the basket contained a thin oval shaped flask made of goat’s skin which had some sort of a stoppered end. Lifting it out, she opened it and saw it contained milk, and shifting the baby in her arms she tilted the flask and placed the stopped end into the baby’s mouth. With an inborn instinct, the baby latched onto the end, and started suckling. Livia laughed in relief, thankful the baby seemed to know exactly what to do; and for several minutes she watched contentedly as the baby suckled taking in much needed sustenance.
“Her name is Elisha.”
Livia gasped aloud as the words, spoken in Latin, but with a strong accent, came from somewhere deep in the copse of trees. She scanned the shaded area but saw nothing. A slight movement caught her eye, and then a young woman stepped from behind a tree some distance away from her and came into view. She was dressed head to toe in dark brown, the perfect camouflage to hide amongst the brown bark of the trees. Her head was also covered with a dark brown shawl, and Livia thought how hot she must be in the heat of the morning sun. Her face was partially hidden, but even so, Livia could see she was young – possibly younger than her.
For a few moments neither of them spoke, until Livia asked, “Are you her mother?”
The woman nodded, “Yes. She is just over three months old.”
Livia was right about the baby being small for her age, and as if the woman had read her thoughts she said, “She was born before her time. I…we…weren’t sure if she would survive. But as you can see she has.”
“She is a beautiful baby.”
“Yes.” This time Livia heard the catch of emotion in the young girl’s voice.
For a few moments neither of them said anything, then the girl spoke, “Will you take her?” The words were rushed, as she continued, “Give her a chance of survival away from here. If she stays here she will have no life. She will catch the disease, and she will die like we all will. She does not have the leprosy, I promise you.”
Realising what the young woman was asking, Livia hesitated, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, and the young woman fell to her knees crying, “Please, mistress. I beg you. Please give her a chance. The Elders of the colony are sure the supply ship will arrive soon…maybe in a few days even… You could take her with you. Please, I beg you. Please.”
Livia felt tears well up in her eyes at the emotion in the younger woman’s voice, and she had to fight the urge to go over to her and take her in her arms. Instead she said, “Please get up. Please. I will look after her, I promise you. But…but I need to persuade Metellus-”
“Your husband looks a decent man,” the girl interjected, cutting off Livia’s hesitant explanation, “Please mistress. Take her…I…I cannot bear to watch her die here, not if she doesn’t have to. Just give her a chance of a normal life that is all I ask.”
Livia looked up, hot colour staining her cheeks. “But…but Metellus is not my husband. He…he is…”
Her words trailed off, and both women stared at each other. Livia could see indecision flicker across the young girl’s face; and without thinking about the consequences of what she was about to do she blurted out, “I will look after her, I promise you. My father has money, and I come from a good family in Rome. If you will allow me to look after her, then-”
“Oh thank you! Thank you. You are so kind. I knew I was right to trust you. I heard you shout your thanks on the first day you arrived. I…I cannot ask for anyone better to look after her.” The girl’s voice trembled, and with one last look at her baby nestled in Livia’s arms, she turned and started to walk away.
“Wait!” Livia shouted after her retreating back. Relief swamped her when the woman stopped and looked over her shoulder. “What is your name? I would like to tell Elisha who you are when she gets older if I may. Tell her about her brave mother.”
Livia saw the flash of white teeth, in the shadow of the girl’s hidden face as she smiled. “My name is Ayla,” and then she turned, and disappeared into the trees.
For several long minutes Livia stared into the trees willing the girl to come back to talk to her, to tell how to look after her baby. But she didn’t, and after a while she looked away and glanced down at the baby. She was surprised to see that she had finished feeding, and was fast asleep, her small hands curled up into fists on either side of her face. She made soft baby noises of contentment, and a bubble of milk seeped out of the corner of her mouth, the teat still in place.
With gentle fingers she wiped away the milky residue. The baby was so helpless, so vulnerable, so innocent and she felt her heart swell with s
ome unknown emotion for the child in her arms – pity, love? – She wasn’t sure - but whatever it was, it was an overwhelming emotion which suddenly drained her.
For a long time Livia held the child in her arms content to let the stillness of the hot morning soothe her. Could she love this child as her own? Could she really be the mother that the baby needed?
There was no doubt she had missed a female presence when she was a child growing up in the large austere villa in Rome. The indifference shown to her by her father and half-brother had affected her profoundly, she knew that. She had been a lonely child; a child who had cried silent tears for a mother’s love. Was this an opportunity to give the love she’d buried deep inside her for years now? A chance to give it to an innocent child? She didn’t know, of course, but she would try her hardest to make it so.
“We’ll be fine together, Elisha,” Livia whispered against the downy hair on the baby’s head. “I promise.”
Suddenly a vision of her being swollen with child; Metellus’s child, impinged on her mind. But she banished those thoughts in an instant, mentally labelling them as total fantasy. Instead she bit the bottom of her lip wondering just how she was going to explain Elisha’s presence when Metellus returned later that day.
Whether her anxious thoughts managed to upset the baby she wasn’t sure, but at that moment Elisha started stirring. “Quiet little one,” Livia crooned. “All will be well.” She removed the makeshift teat from Elisha’s mouth and replaced the stopper. There was still some milk left, and she was grateful, as she didn’t feel like trying to milk the goat right now.
She leaned forward and placed the sleeping baby back into the straw basket before standing up and taking both the baby, and the spare basket, back into the coolness of the cave.
Once she had placed the basket holding Elisha on her bed, she set about tidying up the cave, all the while wishing Metellus would come back soon, although she knew that was unlikely. Unease suddenly filled her, and she stopped folding the blanket, hugging it to her chest in a protective gesture. Once again she wondered how Metellus would react to the arrival of a baby in their camp. Would he be angry? Demand she be returned, just in case she carried the disease?
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