The Roman’s Revenge. Caroline Storer

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СКАЧАТЬ fresh water diminished, and now there was only a quarter of a barrel of water left. But at least they had some water, and he had thanked the gods when the one barrel had been washed ashore intact.

      Because of Livia’s incapacity, he hadn’t been able to explore any further than the periphery of the forest, as he couldn’t leave her alone just in case she woke up to find him gone. But the time was approaching when they would have to leave, and Metellus had even considered making a wooden sleigh of some sort so he could drag her along.

      But, with the gods on his side, he prayed he wouldn’t have to resort to that just yet; the lump on her temple had decreased substantially and he was praying she would soon be well enough to walk. Hopefully, with one more day of rest, they might be able to leave.

      A grim look came over his face. Before he could return to Livia, and their makeshift camp, he needed to get this grave dug and bury the two bodies which had been washed ashore that morning. So with a renewed sense of urgency, he carried on digging the grave, and once he had finished burying the men, he offered a prayer to Pluto the god of the underworld, and headed back to the camp.

      But his steps faltered when he saw the empty space on the red woollen cloak he’d used as a bed for Livia. Frowning in frustration, he glanced down the wide expanse of beach, but there was no sign of her. That left only the forest, and his fists clenched in anger, when he realised how much danger she had put herself into.

      He threw the plank of wood onto the ground with a muttered curse; and with a grim expression on his face he charged into the undergrowth.

      Livia realised she had made a monumental mistake going into the forest. For a start she hadn’t a clue where she was going, and secondly, she may well now be lost, although she was sure the beach was behind her - somewhere.

      She’d lost track of how long she had been here – perhaps no more than an hour – but it was soon becoming the longest hour of her life. She realised she had no choice but to abandon her search for Metellus and try to find the beach, and their camp. So she stopped walking and turned round to make her way back.

      A sudden gust of wind came in off the sea, causing the trees behind her to sway and groan as if in protest. The noise was eerie as it blew through the trees, and Livia shivered in fright, afraid of the forest, and what could be lurking deep within its dark depths. She immediately thought of wolves. Would the island have wolves? Again she shivered, and then, as if she wasn’t already scared enough, a disembodied voice came from behind her causing her to squeal in fright.

      “What in the name of Hades do you think you’re doing, woman?”

      “Metellus!” Relief flooded through her, and Livia spun around, but not before a sudden wave of dizziness came over her causing her to stumble. She would have fallen into a tree trunk if it hadn’t been for Metellus reaching out and catching her, and Livia couldn’t help the shudder of awareness that assailed her when she felt the warmth of his hands on her arms. He was so near, she could feel his breath on the side of her neck, and heat curled in the pit of her stomach, as warmth spread through her whole body. She became aware of his strength, his raw power, a power which seemed to overwhelm her, causing her heart to pound, as much as the pounding in her head.

      She had never been aware of a man as much as this one in her whole life, and for some reason it unsettled her, unnerved her, and with a blush of mortification she straightened and pushed him away.

      “I am well now. Thank you,” she said, trying to control herself, before she saw Metellus frown down at her and his hands dropped away as he took a step backwards, breaking the contact between them.

      “I asked what you were doing in the forest, Livia.”

      Stiffening at the harshness of his voice, she looked him square in the face, her tone cool, “I was looking for you, I…I thought you may be hurt or something.” Her words trailed off when she saw him raise an eyebrow in disbelief; and now she’d said the words aloud, she realised how stupid they sounded. Here he was, the most physically perfect specimen of manhood she had ever seen, and one who looked none the worse for wear after their ordeal, and she was concerned about him!

      She realised she must look, and appear such a fool, but thankfully he didn’t say any more on the subject.

      Instead he said, “The camp is back this way. Shall we?” Not waiting for an answer he took her arm and guided her back through the dense forest, and back to their temporary home.

      For a few minutes they walked in silence, their pace slow, so Livia didn’t exert herself too much. Trying to break the tense silence between them she asked, “Where had you been before…before you found me?”

      For a long time he didn’t answer her, and she wondered if he had heard her question. She glanced up at him, about to repeat her question but the words died in her throat when she saw the dark brooding look on his stern face. He was staring down at her, watching her with an intensity that was unsettling.

      “I was burying the dead,” he answered eventually.

      “Who?” She whispered, stopping dead in her tracks, her breathing laboured as his words sank in. Her hand reached up to her throat in trepidation. “Magia?”

      He shook his head, his mouth twisting, “No, not Magia. Some of the sailors, and soldiers who had been on-board.”

      She turned away from him, lest he see her tears, as she thought of her tire-woman. Poor Magia. How she had hated every moment she had been on-board the ship. If Livia could go back in time she would have; if only to persuade her brother to leave Magia behind. She should have protested harder, insisted the older woman remain in Rome, but Flavius had been adamant. She was to accompany Livia and nothing would dissuade him. And even though she had tried so desperately to get him to change his mind it still didn’t stop the powerful upwelling of guilt assailing her none the less. For several minutes she said nothing, just carried on walking thinking of Magia.

      But realising she had to be strong - this island demanded it - she wiped away the salty tears, and when she had composed herself, she asked, “Are there any other survivors?”

      She saw the shake of his head, and her stomach dropped. Swallowing hard she whispered, “How…how many men have you buried?”

      “Thirty so far. They have, unfortunately, been washed up on the shore these past five days.”

      Livia gasped, her eyes widening, “Thirty! Oh those poor men.” Then the full implication of his words sank in, “We’ve been here five days?” At his slight nod she turned to stare with sightless eyes out towards the sea, as they had now come to the edge of the forest and she could see their camp in the distance. She whispered, almost to herself, “I hadn’t realised I had been so ill.”

      Then the ramifications of what he just told her slammed into her, and a wave of heat suffused her whole body. If she had been ill for five days then he must have tended to all her needs. A shiver went through her as she realised what that involved. He’d been responsible for seeing to all her bodily functions. The thought of him touching her, washing her, tending to her was too much to bear, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds as she tried to deal with the enormity of what had happened to her since the shipwreck.

      When she had composed herself to some degree, she risked opening her eyes and relief replaced embarrassment. Metellus had left her standing there, and was walking towards the camp. Whether walking away from her was a deliberate action on his part she wasn’t sure, but she was relieved that he’d given her a few minutes to compose herself, and thankfully СКАЧАТЬ