Livia worried her lip, looking over to where the baby slept in peace in her basket. It’s too late now, she thought humourlessly. But one thing she was adamant about, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, take her back now. And if it meant Metellus quarantined himself away from them both for the duration of their stay, then so be it. But she hoped he would show compassion and kindness to the child, just as they had been shown kindness from the lepers since their arrival here.
When she had finished her chores, she went and sat on the bed next to the baby, content to watch her sleep. Elisha made her smile, as she gurgled in her sleep. The stillness inside the cave had a calming effect on her, and Livia felt a wave of tiredness come over her. Shifting to the edge of the bed, so she wouldn’t crush Elisha, she stretched out and lay next to the baby, her eyes drooping. Within minutes she was asleep, a deep sleep which had eluded her for the past week now.
As Metellus entered the cave he stiffened, a frown creasing his forehead. Even though the cave was in semi-permanent darkness most of the time, he knew something wasn’t right, he could feel it in the way his senses went on instant alert. And when his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, he realised what was wrong.
Livia wasn’t there.
For a moment his heart thudded in his chest, and a feeling of anger swept over him. Anger at himself for leaving her for so long. His stubborn pride had won out, and he had been absent from the cave for most of the day. But today, he’d left it even later than normal. It was the only way he could trust himself from not touching her, kissing her, making love to her. She had gotten under his skin so much, that even the slightest movement of her body when she walked past him, was enough to cause his body to harden in longing. He found himself inhaling her fragrance, craving it with a desperation. A fragrance so unique to her that it had assailed him for days now.
All he could think of was trailing his lips over her warm skin, kissing all the secret places of her body until…until she was mindless with desire for him – as he was for her…
“Shit!” He turned on his heel, anger evident in every line in his body, as he went outside to look for her. What if something had happened to her? What if she had injured herself? Had been lying in pain on the hard ground for hours? Metellus scanned the area around the cave and was just about to shout out her name, when a slight movement in some nearby trees, caught his eyes.
The breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, whooshed out of his chest in relief. Livia. He was sure of it, and taking off at a brisk pace he walked towards her.
“Now, this is going to be far worse for me, than it will be for you, I’m sure of it!”
Livia grimaced, as she sat on the wooden bucket, and bent forward to take the goat’s teats, pulling a face at the unusual texture of the poor animal’s milk glands. But not having much choice in the matter, she pulled at the teat, hoping she was doing it right as Elisha was in need of more milk. Livia had just finished feeding her, and the goat skin flask had been drunk dry. Thankfully, there had been enough for the feed, and the baby was once again fast asleep.
But now she had the unenviable task of getting more milk.
The goat turned around and glared at her, her back legs kicking out, as she expressed her annoyance at Livia. It was obvious she wasn’t doing it right, as no milk was forthcoming.
“Sorry,” she muttered, relaxing her grip, and this time she didn’t yank so hard, “Is this the right way?”
“Are you expecting the goat to answer you?”
Livia gasped, her heart beat accelerating as she glanced up and saw Metellus watching her with a huge smile on his face. He was leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over each other, in what, Livia was coming to recognise, as his preferred way of standing. It was a masculine stance, and Livia was instantly transported back to the time when he watched her on the ship all those endless days ago.
“Now, I can see what you are doing,” Metellus drawled, nodding at the animal, “But how in the name of Jupiter did you manage to get hold of a goat?”
Livia couldn’t help but smile at the perplexed expression on his face, before she answered, “The goat was left for us – and Elisha. For milk, obviously.”
Her words had the desired effect, as the smile which was still hovering on his mouth disappeared, and she saw his eyes narrow.
He moved away from the tree and approached her, his movements slow, his gaze never once breaking from hers. “Who, in the name of Hades, is Elisha?” He asked eventually, when he was within touching distance of her.
His voice was soft, measured, but it didn’t fool Livia for one moment, and she stood up to face him. She would need all her wits about her to convince Metellus to let her keep the baby. She could see by the clenching of his jaw, and the darkening of his grey eyes, that he was holding back his anger. Just. Ignoring the shiver of apprehension which went through her, she lifted her chin in an unconscious gesture of defiance, refusing to be cowed by him. She would defend herself, and Elisha, with every inch of her being. “A baby,” she said, her tone blunt.
If Livia had said “the Emperor” Metellus couldn’t have looked more surprised. For a long moment he stared at her until his piercing gaze shifted, roving over the ground behind where Livia stood, until he found what he was looking for – the straw basket, with the baby sleeping inside that Livia had placed under the shade of a tree, and out of harm’s way. She watched as he walked over to it, and for several long moments he stared down at the sleeping child.
“One of the leper’s?” He finally asked, obviously guessing who the baby belonged to.
“Yes. A young woman called Ayla. She says the child doesn’t have leprosy. She just wants her to have a chance of life. To give-.”
“But how can you be sure she doesn’t have the disease?” Metellus cut in, his voice flat, unyielding, as he turned and pierced her with a hard look, the grey of his eyes icy.
Livia stiffened, prepared to do anything to protect the baby. “She has no skin lesions or any redness on her body. I…I have examined her. She looks like a normal, healthy baby. Granted she is small for her age, but-”
“But how can you be certain, Livia? Have you miraculously learned a physician’s skills overnight, suddenly able to provide a diagnosis? ” Metellus interrupted again, anger and frustration evident in his voice.
“No! I…I can’t be certain. But…but it’s a chance I am willing to take. A chance I have taken. The baby deserves the right to live a normal life. Surely you can see that, Metellus?”
For a long moment he never said anything, and she watched a myriad of emotions cross his face. Then he asked, “What experience do you have for caring for a baby?”
Livia lifted her chin, “I have some experience.” She saw an incredulous look pass over his face, and hurried on with her explanation. “I have a friend – Portia – her sister has three young children. I…I have helped take care of them-”
“What?” He said, interrupting her faltering words, his words biting, inflexible, as he cut off her stumbling explanation. “What experience? A few hours here and there, before you hand them back to their wet nurse, before you let the slaves look after them?”
His words held a wealth of irony, and once more he crossed his arms over his chest, this time in a gesture of defiance that spoke volumes, “Hardly a lifetime of experience, Livia. Looking after a baby is a full time commitment, and one I don’t think you are equipped-”
“How dare you!” Livia interjected, indignation stamped in every line of her body. She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to go over to him and beat his chest with the rage she was feeling. “I don’t care a fig that you think me incapable of looking after Elisha. I am going to look after her, whether you like it or not. You don’t need to have anything to do with her. I…I will take care of her needs-”
Livia stopped speaking for a moment when she saw that she had managed to pierce the armour of his emotions as he wasn’t looking so smug now by her outburst. But she also realised she nee
ded to convince him of her sincerity, so she quietened her voice and pleaded, “Do you really want me to take her back to the fort, Metellus? Abandon her on the steps so to speak. Leave her here on this island, to a fate which will mean almost certain death? Because that is what will happen to her. I can’t do it Metellus, I made a promise to her mother.”
She stopped speaking as emotion clawed at her throat, and swallowed before she carried on, “And…and whatever you think of me, I always keep my promises. I promised Ayla I would do my utmost to look after her, to protect her. I don’t want – need - any help from you. I can understand you are scared she might have the disease, but I truly think she is unaffected by the leprosy. Ayla wouldn’t have brought her to me if she thought she had it.”
Livia walked up to him, and without an unconscious thought laid her hand on his chest looking up into his dark visage, “Please, Metellus,” she begged, “Just give her a chance.”
Livia saw him swallow, saw the tension leave the hardness of his jawline, and she was suddenly aware of how close they were. She could feel the heat from his body where her hand rested on the fabric of his tunic and she felt her cheeks grow warm. She was so close she could smell the heady aroma of his skin, a scent so unique to him. She knew she should pull away, but somehow her body refused to move. For a long moment her eyes searched his, until she saw the iciness of his gaze melt, to be replaced by a heat which made her whole body quiver.
Once again she watched as conflicting emotions flickered across his face before he lifted his right hand and raked it through the thickness of his dark hair in obvious agitation. Livia prayed her words would strike a chord within him, and that he was not unaffected by the plight of the young mother who had taken the decision to effectively abandon her baby to a stranger.
“I will be able to look after her,” Livia said, trying to reassure him. “When I return to Rome. My brother will-”
“But you were headed to Alexandria, Livia. Remember?” Metellus cut in, his eyes narrowing, “Your brother is not there is he? So how will you be able to look after her in a foreign land, and explain Elisha’s presence to anyone who asks?”
Livia felt the colour drain from her face. Every muscle in her body tensed before she stepped back from him and broke the contact between them. Sweat popped out on her brow, and with shaking fingers she wiped it away. Metellus spoke the truth. She hadn’t even thought about Alexandria – or more importantly Pullus – her prospective husband.
“I intend to return to Rome.” She said, her tone defiant, as she made up her mind, “I have no intention of going onward to Alexandria. Being ship wrecked put paid to those plans.”
“And what do you think your husband-to-be will have to say about your change of plans? Not to mention you turning up in either Rome, or Alexandria, with a young baby in your arms? He’s bound to find out one way or another.”
Livia gasped. “How…how do you know about my marriage? I never told you-”
“Never underestimate me, Livia. The captain told me all about you remember?”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she placed her hands on her hips in a gesture of defiance, “That’s a lie. The captain didn’t know why I was going to Alexandria. Only Flavius, Magia and I knew the real reason for my journey.”
Her words had the desired effect, when his mouth clamped shut in annoyance. Obviously he had guessed, albeit correctly, why she was on her way to Alexandria. She saw a slight smile flit across his mouth before he shrugged his shoulders, lifting his hands up in mock surrender.
“Call it an educated guess on my part, Livia. Single women, from one of Rome’s most prominent families don’t go to Alexandria on their own, unless there is someone – a man – a prospective husband – waiting for them. Correct?”
Livia frowned in consternation. Metellus was too quick by half. For a few moments she stared at him in frustration, before she nodded. She met his gaze full on, “But that was then, and this is now and…and as I said earlier, I have no intention of going to Alexandria to marry. I will return to Rome. The storm made that decision for me, and there is nothing Flavius can do about it.”
“Strong words, Livia. But I do detect a slight hint of panic in your voice? Are you sure Flavius can be persuaded to let you keep the baby?”
Livia looked away from his all too piercing eyes, and walked over to where Elisha still slept in her makeshift cradle. Livia felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders, before she shook her head, “No, I’m not sure. But I’m willing to take a chance. I made a promise to Ayla I would look after her. And I intend to keep it.”
“And what if Flavius insists you are to go to Alexandria and fulfil the marriage contract? What about your future husband? Will he not have something to say on the subject?”
The words were spoken next to her, and Livia gasped as she became aware of his presence. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze, keenly aware of the narrowed, watchful way he was looking at her.
“So who is it you are – were – to marry?” Metellus finally asked, when she didn’t answer his earlier questions.
“Sextus Calpurnius Pullus, Praetor to the Governor of Alexandria.” She said, her voice flat, emotionless.
Metellus’s eyebrows shot up. “Pullus! That old coot! Surely not? He’s old enough to be your father – grandfather even. Why him?”
“Why indeed? Because it is a good match of course. An excellent political match, worthy of all Rome.”
Metellus obviously heard the sarcasm in her voice, because he frowned down at her before he lifted his hand, and trailed his index finger down over the nerve which throbbed in base of her neck. Livia couldn’t stop the shudder of desire that flooded her body when he touched her, the roughness of his work hardened fingers strangely erotic against the smoothness of her skin.
“Do you love him?” he asked, his voice flat, a touch of malice around his mouth, before he lifted his hand and cradled her delicate jawline.
The words were said with a hint of challenge in his voice, as he watched her with hooded eyes. Livia swallowed hard, anger flaring inside her, “Of course I don’t love him. I loathe him, he makes my skin crawl,” she bit out, feeling hot colour flaring in her cheeks. “But just in case you hadn’t realised, I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Since when do women have any choice in the political arena of the Senate?”
The bitterness of her voice was testimony to her feelings, and she twisted away from him, dropping to her knees to where the baby lay. The baby was awake, and for a long time she stared down at her. Thankfully, Elisha was content to just lie in her basket cooing and smiling up at her. She could still feel Metellus’s presence behind her, watching her, evaluating everything she had said. After a long while she turned her head and looked up at him once more.
“Just so you know everything, Ayla said the supply ship should arrive soon, maybe in a few days’ time, so you don’t have to worry about Elisha, or me, for that matter.” And without giving him a chance to reply, she picked up the basket, stood up and walked away, aware of Metellus watching her every step of the way.
Metellus frowned, watching as she walked away from him.
A baby! Hades! He narrowed his eyes, watching as she carried the basket in her arms and entered the cave. He had to acknowledge to himself that she made a striking picture, the epitome of womanhood as she carried the baby in her arms. Unbidden thoughts of her carrying his baby assailed him, their child suckling at her breast…but as soon as they had arrived he dismissed them, calling himself a fool for even thinking them.
Since when did Livia Drusus feature in his life?
Ever since you rescued her from the sinking ship, his brain mocked, and annoyed with himself once more, he went over to where the goat still ate the coarse grass, oblivious to the recent tension between him and Livia. Sighing, Metellus dropped down onto the upturned bucket and started to milk the goat, his hands sure and steady. As the milk began to flow into the bucket, his mind raced. Should he let her keep
the baby or make her, no demand her, to return the child to its mother?
His hands stilled for a moment as he admitted the truth to himself. She was right. He couldn’t do it. To return the baby to the colony, would be nothing short of inflicting a death sentence on the child. And no matter how much the logical part of his brain demand he do so, the other half won out. He would let her keep the baby. “By the gods I hope I’m doing the right thing,” he whispered to himself.
Livia sighed, tossing and turning on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position in order to sleep. She had no idea as to how late it was, but the moon had been high in the sky for what seemed like hours now, and she was still wide awake. She had been unable to sleep, her mind in constant turmoil as she replayed all that had happened between her and Metellus earlier.
His was the voice of reason. She knew that. He had been right. How on earth was she going to persuade her brother – and father if he ever recovered– to let her keep a three month old baby?
But there was no going back now. She had made a promise, and she would stick with it. Turning over onto her side, she looked across the darkness of the cave, able to make out the shadow of the pallet Metellus had used, which was now being used as a makeshift cradle for the baby. Livia had bundled some of the cloaks and blankets together, and had laid the baby in the cocoon of wool and cloth, and she hadn’t stirred once since she had put her to bed just before they had been due to have their evening meal.
Smiling wryly to herself in the darkness, she recalled what had happened when she had left to cave earlier to go in search of something to eat. Unsurprisingly she had felt nervous, wondering whether to venture out of the cave or plead a headache and stay with the baby. But she hadn’t, and taking a deep breath she had exited the cave to see Metellus standing over the cooking spit roasting a rabbit.
The Roman's Revenge Page 8