“No!” Her voice was little more than a squeak, as it passed out of her parched throat, as she felt his fingers stroke the nape of her neck, the caress so soft, so gentle she shivered in response to his touch. His hand reached around to cup her jaw, gripping it with enough force that so she had no option but to turn into his body, to look up at him. She felt her eyes widen in shock when she saw his mouth move towards hers.
Sweet Jupiter, he was going to kiss her, and there was nothing she could do to stop him! It was as if she had turned to stone, unable to move if she wanted too, and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his mouth fuse with hers. The moan of pleasure that escaped from her throat seemed to echo around the small cabin, as she lifted her hands to cup the back of his neck bringing him closer to her body.
His kiss was gentle, yet firm, brooking no resistance, demanding a response from her she was more than happy to give. Her mouth parted, and this time it was he who grunted with pleasure, as his tongue explored the softness of her warm mouth.
Livia lost all sense of time, and place, as she met kiss, for long hot, searing kiss, felt his work roughed fingers graze and skim over the rapid pulse at the base of her neck. A pulse he must have been able to feel…
Shame slammed into her, as reality crashed through her like a wave smashing onto rocks. He was using her again! Her eyes flew open in shock, and she pulled away, stumbling, as the swell of the ship caused her to miss her step. Her mouth felt full, throbbing, kiss ravaged, and she had to fight the urge to touch it with her fingers. How could she be so stupid? To allow him access to her mouth, eager for his touch and kisses…
“Is this some kind of sick jest, Metellus?” The words were whispered, as a sudden rush of nausea hit her. All the tension she had been holding onto for days now exploded out of her, and she whispered, “Why are you doing this to me?”
The tears that had threatened were quashed in an instant. She needed to be strong. Had to be strong, and hardening her voice she bit out, “I’ve told you I’m not pregnant. Now go. There is nothing more to say on this matter. You have made your opinion of me, and my family, more than clear.”
She saw his jaw clench, his eyes as cold as the deepest sea, but she refused to back down, and kept her expression blank, when in reality, deep inside, her heart was breaking. For a long moment he just stared at her, saying nothing. Then, as if somehow she had felt the crackling tension in the room, Elisha woke and started to cry. It was all that was needed, as Metellus stepped away from her, both physically and mentally. She could see it in the closed expression on his face, the stiffness of his body, before he turned and left her cabin.
For several long minutes Metellus paced up and down in his own cabin, uncontrollable fury surging inside him until he couldn’t bare it any longer. His fist launched out as he slammed it into the wooden hull, the force of which caused him to wince in pain.
But the pain felt good. So very good. It was just what he needed to purge Livia from his mind one way or another. He felt like a callow youth caught up in the throes of his first passion. Never in all of his life had he been affected so much by a woman.
Granted she was beautiful, but he had known beautiful women before, and he wasn’t in the habit of denying his sexual needs. But the women he had taken to his bed in the past had never affected him as much as Livia had, and continued, to do. In truth he was known to be cold. Hard. Women came to his bed knowing that the relationship was only about the physical. He couldn’t give anymore of himself, it was only his body he could give, nothing more. He always, always kept his emotions under strict control. Until now…
This infatuation, if it could be called that, had to stop. She was his enemy by the gods! She deserved to suffer for what her father had done. And hadn’t he made a promise to his dead father on the day of his burial, that he would extract revenge for his death even if it took him a lifetime to do so?
But then reality hit him hard. One night simply wasn’t enough to purge her from his memory. Revenge now tasted bitter, after experiencing the nectar of her body, her sweet lips. He couldn’t get enough of her, he realised. The gasps she made when he had kissed her breasts, the arching of her back when he’d trailed hot wet kisses down over her stomach, lower until…
She enticed him beyond endurance. He wanted more. More of her in his arms, in his bed. He wanted to please her, taste her, strip her naked and gorge on her flesh, like a man starved of food as she cried out in pleasure when he slid into the wet, enveloping heat of her body, until they were both stated.
There was no denying it. Sex with Livia had been the best he’d ever had.
“No!” He bit out, cursing himself for wanting her so much.
This was about revenge. It had to be about revenge – and nothing more. Striding over to a small wooden sideboard, he took a flask of wine, and poured a hefty measure into a wooden goblet, drowning the contents in one long swallow, welcoming the burn of alcohol as it slid down his gullet. He refilled his goblet once more, and this time before he drank from it, he lifted it in a toast. “To you, father. I won’t let you down. I promise.”
Livia's head throbbed with tension, as she listened to the shouts of the sailors above deck as they prepared to bring the ship into dock.
For another three days she had stayed in her cabin like the recluse Metellus had accused her of being. But it had been worth it, as she’d managed to avoid Metellus once more. And now, in a matter of minutes, they would soon be docking at Ostia, and thank the gods, this odious journey would be over.
Elisha’s cry tore her out of her stupor, and she got up from the bed, lifting the baby out of her wooden crib. As soon as she had her in her arms, the baby stopped crying and Livia smiled. Reaching across to the basket, which sat next to the wooden crib, she took out the goatskin and started to feed the baby. Elisha was a joy, no trouble at all, considering all the disruption she had endured, and still had to endure, in her small life. Elisha was about to find herself once more on dry land, and in a strange city - Rome. Somehow, Livia thought darkly, as she looked down at the suckling baby, she knew Elisha was going to fair far better than she would in the next few hours!
She, on the other hand, had the unenviable task of explaining everything that had happened in the past few weeks to Flavius. And she very much doubted her half-brother would offer a sympathetic ear when he heard of her plight. To him, it would be nothing but an inconvenience that she hadn’t managed to reach Alexandria, and marry Pullus. And, worst of all, she would also have to beg, and plead with him, to let her keep Elisha.
She had already planned what she was going to tell him about the baby. Elisha was going to be an orphan, the child of one of the women who had been on board the ship, and who, tragically had drowned when the ship had sunk. She couldn’t tell him the truth about Elisha. Flavius, unlike Metellus, would never allow the child of leper to live with them at the villa.
Livia closed her eyes. Metellus. How in the name of Hades was she going to forget him, to try and convince herself he’d never existed? Even though she hadn’t seen him for days now, ever since he’d kissed her in her cabin, she still ached for him.
Loving someone was not an easy emotion to admit to, and an even harder one to forget. But she was determined to remain strong, she couldn’t let Metellus’s rejection get to her. The next few days, weeks even, were going to be very difficult. She wasn’t a fool. Shipwrecked or not, arriving back in Rome with a small baby in her arms was going to bring the gossips out in force. And no matter how much she protested her innocence it would fall on deaf ears. She could hear the questions and snide remarks already. A baby? So that’s why she left Rome in such a hurry! How did she manage to keep it a secret? Who is the father?
As Livia held Elisha in her arms she was conscious of being watched. A pricking sensation at the back of her neck made her turn and scan the quayside below her, as she slowly made her way down the gangway.
Her steps faltered, as her gaze found, and collided, with Metellus's. He was leanin
g against the wall of a massive stone warehouse, his arms crossed over his chest in a casual way which belied the intensity of his eyes boring into hers. He looked scruffy, several days growth of beard were evident, and his hair was longer, as it was ruffled by the slight breeze which blew in off the sea. Standing there, he looked like one of the many workers who toiled day in and day out on the dockside.
His gaze was inscrutable, no emotion whatsoever flickered across his face. He looked dangerous, fierce even, and she couldn’t control the tremble that slithered down her spine.
Then, in what was meant to be a calculated move, he turned his back on her and spoke to a man who had been standing next to him. His dismissal cut through her like a knife. He couldn’t have made his intentions clearer. She was history. Elisha was history. All she had ever been was a diversion, a warm willing body to use as he saw fit, in his desire for revenge against her family.
“Move along, woman.” The gruff voice behind her startled her, as she realised she’d stopped walking, and was blocking the gangway. Glancing behind her she murmured an apology to the sailor who stood behind her, before moving forward once more.
Forced to concentrate on the uneven steps of the wooden gangway, it was a few minutes before she made the safety of the quayside, and unable to resist, she glanced once more to where Metellus had been standing. But he had gone, swallowed up amongst the swarms of people who crowded the busy dockside area.
And then the finality of it slammed through her like a physical blow. She meant nothing to him, and she very much doubted she would ever see him again…
CHAPTER 12
Two weeks later…
“What you are offering is most unusual. Most unusual indeed, and I'm intrigued to know why?”
“Personal reasons.”
“Personal! Is that all you have to say on the matter?”
“Yes.”
“Umm. You are indeed a man of few words!” Publius Asicus leaned back in his chair, his hands adorned with gold rings, steepled in front of him as he surveyed the man in front of him, a wry grin on his face. Considering he was surrounded by five of his bodyguards the man showed no fear, of him, or the situation he found himself in. And that was something which rarely happened when strangers approached him; for his reputation came before him – and quite rightly. Publius Asicus was the most powerful man in the all the gambling dens of Rome. And the most dangerous one…
Metellus watched the man who sat contemplating him, his gaze unwavering as he stood his ground. Publius Asicus was right. What he was offering was unusual, but he did have his reasons.
“One hundred thousand denarii. Take it or leave it.” Publius Asicus said, interrupting Metellus's thoughts.
“Done.” Metellus said immediately, biting back a smile at the surprised look that flashed across the older man's face. It was obvious Publius Asicus hadn't expected him to agree to his terms so quickly; and his highly inflated terms at that. But before Publius Asicus could change his mind and ask for more money, Metellus held out his hand, and with obvious reluctance Publius Asicus leaned forward and shook Metellus’s hand sealing the deal, the older man’s many gold rings winking in the lamplight.
“I'll have the money delivered tomorrow,” Metellus said, as he stood up, ending what had been a very short meeting. “Have the markers ready.” And with a slight nod of his head he left Publius Asicus sitting at his table, a bemused look on his face as he watched him walk away. Metellus smiled as he walked out of the dark room, sure in the knowledge he had somehow managed to get the better of Publius Asicus. A feat not many men had achieved in many a year, of that he was certain…
“You have brought shame on this family once more. Have you seen the drawings on the wall outside?”
“There is no need to shout, Flavius.”
If possible, Flavius's face flushed even more, his fists clenching in anger as he glared at his half-sister.
“There is every need, trust me, Livia. You are ruined. This family is ruined.”
Livia didn’t reply, instead she stared at him unflinching, refusing to let Flavius’s tirade break her. She could see he was near to breaking point, and she was in serious danger of being beaten within an inch of her life. But for Elisha’s sake, she had to remain calm and strong, and keep her wits about her.
Flavius raked his hand through his thinning hair, a clear sign of his agitation, as he didn’t normally touch his perfectly groomed hair for fear of losing more of it.
“The baby has to go. You will get rid of it. Send it to our villa in Brundisium. She will be looked after there adequately. ”
“No!” Livia said, defiance in her tone, as she met his angry gaze, “I will do anything you ask, Flavius but I will not get rid of Elisha. What is the point of abandoning her? The harm has already been done. Everyone in Rome has made their own mind up about me, even though I have tried to explain-”
“Explain! Explain what, Livia?” Flavius burst out. “You leave on a ship, and barely one month later you return with a child in your arms? You were pregnant before you left. Just how did you manage to fool me, and the rest of Rome, I’ll never know?”
“I was not pregnant, I’m telling the truth,” Livia said in a placating tone, “The child belonged to one of the women aboard the-”
“Enough!” Flavius slashed his hand through the air, cutting off her words. “I have heard of women who gave birth without anyone even knowing they were pregnant. What is to say that this didn’t happen to you? Who is the father? Who did you spread your legs for?” Flavius barked out before he stepped forward and grabbed Livia’s forearm.
“Let me go, Flavius,” Livia demanded, as pain shot up her arm as she tried to pull her arm free. But his strength was too much and he shook her like a dog shook a bone.
“You open your legs for any man, and now I pay the price is that it?”
“No!” Livia exclaimed. “It isn’t like that. I’m not pregnant. It’s the truth I tell you.”
Flavius’s eyes narrowed, as he stared at her. “So are you still a virgin then? Is that the truth, or do you lie?”
Livia stilled, her heart thumping in fear as they both stared at each other like combatants in the arena sizing each other up before the fight began. Livia used the element of surprise and managed to pull her arm out of Flavius’s grip, her stomach churning with anxiety, as she stared at her half-brother. Thankfully he didn’t grab her again and Livia was able to step back from him. “My virginity is no concern of yours. I am a woman grown. You should respect my right to privacy. Father should be the only one I answer to. Not you, my half-brother.”
Flavius, if possible, went even redder as her words hit him. Leaning in so his face was level with hers he hissed, “How dare you talk to me like that? I am in charge of this household now. You will obey me, as you would our father. Now answer my question woman, or by the gods I will beat it out of you. I’ll not be the taken for a fool again.”
Livia knew she had pushed her half-brother to the limit. And although he’d never beaten her before, she wasn’t about to chance it. Livia took a deep breath, trying to keep her poise and dignity as Flavius glared at her. “I’m not a virgin anymore that is the truth. But I’ve also never been pregnant. The baby is not mine.”
“Who is the man who took your virginity?”
Although she was expecting the question, Livia still blanched. “Does it matter, Flavius?” She said with false bravado. “The deed is done is it not? No-one would have believed you anyway if you told them that I was still a virgin after my marriage to Galvus.”
Silence descended in the room at her words, as Flavius assimilated what she was saying. Livia held her breath wondering whether Flavius would beat her anyway, regardless that she had told him the truth. Thankfully he didn’t. Instead he moved away from her and started pacing. It was obvious he was thinking rapidly, trying to make up his mind about whether to believe her or not. Although she didn't get on with her acerbic half-brother, she did have a twinge of sympathy for
him. The gossip about her had been ferocious to say the least ever since she had walked down the gangplank of the ship holding a baby in her arms.
Within the day, crude drawings had appeared on the walls outside their villa, showing a pregnant Livia on a ship. The gossips were relishing the story of how the Drusii had planned to send her to Alexandria to have her baby in secret, but had been thwarted by her being shipwrecked and having no choice but to return to Rome. There was also scepticism as to her “arranged” marriage to Sextus Calpurnius Pullus as well; and no matter how hard Flavius had tried to quell the rumours, he had failed miserably. And if that were not bad enough, it had been unfortunate for her that Flavius seemed to believe the baby was hers as well.
“You are still betrothed to Pullus. Do you think he will want to marry you now, now you have whored yourself?”
Livia blushed at the crudity of his words, but answered recklessly, “I have no intention of marrying Pullus. Not now. Not ever.”
The words hung in the air, and Flavius's eyes narrowed in anger once more. Her words added to the already tense atmosphere, and Flavius leaned forward to grab her. Livia, realising his intention, managed to move away, stepping backwards in an involuntary movement. But instead of gaining the freedom she’d hoped for, her back slammed into an immoveable force. She turned her head to see what was amiss, and her heart stuttered when she saw Metellus standing grim faced, his gaze locked onto Flavius’s face.
“Have I come at an awkward time?”
“Who in the name of Hades are you? And how did you gain access to my villa?” Flavius barked, his face flushed in anger.
Metellus! What on earth was he doing here? Livia's heart started a rapid beat against her rib cage as she tried to assimilate what was going on, but an innate sense of self-preservation kept her from saying his name out loud, as she stepped away from both men.
Metellus stood there, his face inscrutable, as he watched Flavius, weighing him up, judging him…and if the mocking smile which appeared on his face was anything to go by, finding him wanting.
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