Roman's Virgin Mistress

69 BC Baiae, the most luxurious and notorious seaside resort in the late Roman RepublicAlittle bit further to the harbour wall. That was all. She could hear the sound of the water lapping against it. Silvana Junia forced her legs to kick. Her gown had started to slip from the belt and the sea-soaked linen curled about her thighs, imprisoning her, dragging her down. The cries and splashing behind her had stopped a while back. Cotta and his henchmen had given up or decided she was drowned in the bay. She would have dearly loved to have seen his face when she jumped off his yacht. The evening had failed to go as she planned, but neither had it had the ending he intended. Silvana made a wry face. From now on, she'd remember. Cotta was the enemy. She gave one last vigorous kick. Her outstretched hand touched the rough concrete, and curled around a tiny handhold. She had made it. The gods were with her tonight. She had done it. Now to get out of the bay and back home. The harbour wall loomed above her, too high to clamber up. Silvana glanced to her right. A single fishing boat bobbed only a few yards from her; next to it she saw the shadowy outline of a rope ladder. If she could get on the ship, then she could clamber up the ladder on to the wall and reach Baiae's promenade. Carefully she inched her way over. Her belt came loose and the skirts of her gown and undertunic billowed around her. Silvana reached up and her fingers found a perch on the side of the boat. She allowed herself to hang there, half in and half out of the water, trying to get her breath back. How long had she been in the water? When she first dived in the bay, it had felt like ice, but now it was warmer than the hot pool at the Baths of Mercury.very tired. The sea called to her exhaustion. She could float for ever in a dreamless sleep. She stiffened. She would not let Cotta win this way. She wooden decking and her legs dangling. Salty water streamed off her honey blonde hair and dark blue gown. Her legs refused to move, but she tried again and rolled on to the boat with a loud squelch. Her breath stopped. Was anyone on board? Had they heard her? Silence except for the quiet lapping of the water against the boat. The ladder hung tantalisingly close. She'd have to do it. Silvana summoned all her energy, rose and made a dash for it. Her hand closed around the rope. Underneath her, in the hold of the ship, came the sound of muffled voices. Let them go back to sleep,she prayed. The last thing she needed was another scandal being linked to the name of the already notorious Silvana Junia. She had enough of those, both real and supposed, clinging to herstola.Crispus, her younger brother, had begged her in a tablet last Ides, no more scandals until he had secured a place as a junior tribune, and she'd agreed. After what seemed like an age, the voices became quiet. Cautiously she began to climb, ignoring the way her gown dragged against her legs, pulling her back down. Her hand touched the top of the harbour wall. She had done it! A large scarred hand reached down and grabbed her wrist, held her fast, steadying her. "You are safe. You have made it to the shore," a deep voice growled. Silvana looked up and saw a figure bending over the wall. His legs seem to reach for ever and his tunic skimmed the mid-point of his thighs. His shoulders were broad, but his face was in shadow. She moved her arm and he released it. With a final burst of energy, she scrambled up the remaining rungs of the ladder and over the harbour wall to the promenade. "I am on dry land,"she said, looking towards where the pale villas rose with their ghostly white pillars, dark loggias and deep red roofs rather than at the man. "It is safer than the sea." "That depends on who you are. If you are a nymph or maybe with hair like that a sea witch, the sea would be a better placeStyles, Michelle is the author of 'Roman's Virgin Mistress ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373294589 and ISBN 0373294581.