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The Roman’s Revenge
Caroline Storer
The daughter of his sworn enemy…For wealthy merchant Metellus, nothing is as important as his desire for revenge. Ever since his father’s death, he’s been planning to wreak vengeance on those responsible. So when he rescues the daughter of his sworn enemy, Livia Drasus from a shipwreck Metellus sees an opportunity to set his plans in motion.…is fair game in his planned revenge!Making Livia his wife is the perfect way to get close to her family. What Metellus doesn’t expect is the fire that burns so passionately when he takes feisty Livia to his bed! Falling for his wife was never part of the plan, and soon he stands to lose more than he ever thought possible. Now Metellus must decide, is gaining his revenge worth risking his heart?
The Roman's Revenge
CAROLINE STORER
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015
Copyright © Caroline Storer 2015
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Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover design by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
Caroline Storer asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
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Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
Ebook Edition © July 2015 ISBN: 9780007568864
Version 2015-09-11
Thanks so much to my lovely editor Charlotte Ledger for all her help and support in getting this book ready.
I would also like to thank all the readers who left fabulous comments on my debut book "The Roman" and who asked when the next book is out…this book is for you.
And finally…to Colin, my fabulous husband who always encourages and supports me.
Contents
Cover (#u81e512ab-0635-5feb-9eff-47bffd6fd9d1)
Title Page (#ue8f51d2e-3c4a-5c5b-9529-394d4b37de6f)
Copyright (#u426fb7d5-069b-5616-820d-ed9211d4dd80)
Dedication (#udc959759-47c0-5bfb-bc20-d46633730b91)
CHAPTER 1 (#u86c17ac0-7e6f-5c92-b866-f602f27c8ddc)
CHAPTER 2 (#u1e3c7069-ed8b-5242-be96-cb6dc6544f8c)
CHAPTER 3 (#u17bfe19e-403e-58f4-91a0-5669cdc750fa)
CHAPTER 4 (#u1ba42b2e-c630-513f-91ec-1d00b233784b)
CHAPTER 5 (#u6c9ad037-81a1-5675-857e-cd7bb83dd31f)
CHAPTER 6 (#ucaf5ed31-20f6-5ab6-abe1-958fd44f014b)
CHAPTER 7 (#ue7da15a3-dfb4-5aec-8fb5-26f18464a24c)
CHAPTER 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Caroline Storer … (#litres_trial_promo)
Caroline Storer (#litres_trial_promo)
About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 1 (#uea482c25-f273-53ce-a93a-ce9600913e6e)
Ostia – Port of Rome, Italy – June AD 80
“Magia, calm yourself, please. You will make yourself ill.”
“Ill? Of course I am ill, I am sick to the stomach. How could he do this to us? He can’t make me go. I refuse to go. I won’t go I tell you. He can kill me, I don’t care.”
Livia worried her bottom lip, her insides churning with tension as she realised Magia was on the verge of hysteria, and had been ever since they had boarded the ship just over an hour ago. Although she had tried to calm her, nothing seemed to help, and it was fast proving a futile exercise, as every time she said something it just seemed to make her tire-woman even more agitated.
In a fit of panic she cast her eyes around the deck, trying to find someone who might be able to help. But there was no one. Everybody was far too busy loading up, and preparing the mighty trireme for its long journey to Alexandria. A journey she, and Magia, had only found out that morning they would both be making. Breaking her gaze away from the busy scene before her, she tried once more to calm the old woman.
Lifting her hand, she placed it on Magia’s arm in a gesture of comfort, and lowered her voice, as if she were talking to a young child, and not a woman old enough to be her grandmother. “Magia, please try to understand if there was anything, anything, I could have done to stop this, then I would have. But Flavius decreed it, and I had no choice. You, of all people should be able to understand that. Now let us go down to our cabin and rest awhile. It has been a long, tiring day.”
If anything, the words seemed to inflame Magia even further, and she slapped Livia’s hand away, her eyes wild with rage. Under normal circumstances, Magia, a slave, would have been flogged for striking her mistress; but Livia realised these weren’t normal circumstances, so she chose to ignore the outburst. But as she stood there feeling utterly helpless, she wished with all her heart she could do something about the mess the two of them found themselves in.
Metellus could see the old woman was clearly upset and angry about something, as she gesticulated and shouted at the young woman who was on the receiving end of her tirade. And the young woman seemed powerless to do anything about it, if the anxious expression on her face was anything to go by.
He couldn’t make out what the woman was saying, the noise from the dock side, as well as on board the trireme was deafening as the ship was loaded for its imminent departure. But he was intrigued nonetheless, and he moved away from the stack of wooden crates which partially obscured him, and leaned against one of the wooden masts on the open deck. Crossing his arms over his muscular chest, he deliberately relaxed his stance, made his face expressionless and watched the exchange between the two women.
He knew who they were of course. News of the arrival of the beautiful patrician, and her tire-woman, had spread around the ship like wild-fire. The fact she was also the daughter of a Senator – although he didn’t know which one yet – had heightened the gossip even more; and as he watched them, he couldn’t help but wonder why on earth she was on her way to Alexandria. The gossip had been remarkably lacking on that score!
As he watched her, he had to acknowledge the sailors hadn’t exaggerated her beauty. She was indeed one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and he felt his body harden in response. She was enough to steal any man’s breath away with her pale skin, clear and unblemished and unadorned by the powders and paints so often favoured by the rich women of Rome. His eyes were drawn to the rich mahogany of her hair which was a perfect foil for her wide spaced hazel eyes.
His gaze moved over her small straight nose, down to the fullness of her lips. Lips so tempting, he had to fight the urge to walk over to her and taste their sweetness, regardless of the older woman standing there shouting at her.
Reluctantly he tore his gaze from her face, and took his fill of her tall slim body, the thick silk of her stola unable to disguise the fullness of her breasts, and the irrational thought of how well they would fit together flashed into his mind as temptation clawed at him like a hungry beast. Something inside him jolted into life, feelings long supressed came to the fore, and he had the powerful urge to go over to her and kiss her anguish away. He imagined her without clothing. Naked. Writhing beneath him, her back arched in wanton abandonment, the ultimate in temptation, and he felt desire slam into him – hard.
As he watched her take the brunt of her tire-woman’s verbal attack her small white teeth worried her lower lip, and a frown appeared, a frown which momentarily spoilt the perfection of her heart shaped face. She stiffened, her back ramrod straight as she listened to the older woman, shaking her head at something the woman was saying, and Metellus’s eyes were drawn once more to the thickness of her hair, swept upwards off her face, so the abundant waves swung backwards and forwards across the slimness of her back. He wanted to wrap his hands in its thickness, test the weight of it, pull her forward and…
Metellus shook his head, annoyed with himself, and his wayward thoughts. There was no place for a woman like her in his life. Not yet anyway. Not until he’d had the revenge he had sought, and planned, for years now. Fifteen long years in fact, ever since his father had been arrested and taken away in the dead of night by Nero’s Praetorian Guard. And as he remembered that fateful night, his hand lifted subconsciously, rubbing the thin scar which marred his left cheek.
He’d been nine years old when he had been awoken by the shouting and screaming coming from inside the main part of their villa. Running out of his bedroom, into the atrium, he saw his father being clamped in irons by four burly soldiers. Furious, he’d charged at them, demanding his father’s release, but his strength had been futile against the sheer strength and number of the guards surrounding his father. Instead, he’d been thrown across the room like a rabid dog, where he’d hit his face against a sharp edge of one of the many marble statutes that lined the atrium. He’d been knocked unconscious, and the only thing he had to show for his attempt at trying to save his father was the scar.
A loud scream jolted Metellus out of his dark thoughts, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw the old woman rush past him, her hand holding her cheek, a red mark clearly visible. It was obvious the patrician had slapped her, and bemused, his eyes swivelled from the tire-woman who was running towards the open hatch, and the sanctuary of the cabins below, back to where the younger woman stood.
He saw the glaze of shock in her eyes, as she stood there unmoving, until she finally blinked and refocused on the present. It was only then that her magnificent hazel eyes focused on him, seeing him for the first time as he stared at her.
Their eyes locked, the force of her gaze as powerful as a punch in the stomach, and for several long moments they looked at each other. He lowered his eyes to her mouth, saw the trembling of her bottom lip, and had to fight the urge to stride over and kiss her senseless. There was something about this woman that pulled at him, tested his resolve and demanded that he do something…anything…
Instead he raised an enquiring eyebrow. It had the desired result, when he saw hot colour suffuse her cheeks as she realised he had seen everything that had happened between her, and her tire-woman. Her eyelids fluttered, before she looked away, but not before he saw disbelief cloud her expression, as if she couldn’t quite take in what had just happened between them.
But then, as if she couldn’t control herself, her eyes once more sought his, as if she were unable, unwilling, to look away. She blinked several times, before her gaze lowered, taking in his tall muscular build, weighing him up as if he were a slave to be bought in the local market. When she realised what she was doing, her eyes snapped back to his, and this time she was bold enough to meet his gaze face on, her expression challenging.
Metellus took the challenge she offered, and stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Immediately he saw the boldness of her gaze disappear, to be replaced by uncertainty, fear even, her face losing all colour as she stiffened.
“May I be of assistance? Your slave seems…troubled,” he said, unable to keep the mocking tone out of his voice, as he came to stand next to her, so close, that her delicate scent, the slightest hint of roses, and something else, teased his nostrils and he felt his body harden once more. He watched, as hot colour once again surged into her face, and her magnificent eyes fell from his.
