The Sacred Flame by Littlestone Nanette & Littlestone Nanette

Author:Littlestone, Nanette & Littlestone, Nanette
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780996070935
Publisher: Words of Passion
Published: 2021-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XXVII

W

hen Livia awoke, her cheek pressed against something hard. Where was her soft pillow? Then her cheek rose and fell with the rhythm of breathing, someone else’s breathing. She sat up quietly and gazed at Gaius. Darkness bathed his face in shadow and alleviated the lines of age and concern. In the stillness he looked years younger and she recalled the child of long ago.

When they met she was sixteen, ill with a chest cold. Horatia had sent her to a local family for healing where she would be nurtured and cared for and not a distraction for the other Vestals.

Her body rested on sheets of pale blue cotton under a spread of blue swirls laced with gold threads. Like sunlight sparkling on the ocean. She ran her hand over the soft sheets once, twice, memorizing the feel of the smooth material on her skin. Her parents were wealthy but they had nothing so luxurious.

“Sleep,” the matrona said, resting a gentle hand on Livia’s forehead. The woman’s rose water scent lingered as she silently left the room.

Livia coughed, a deep wracking sound that sapped her energy and made her chest ache. She wiped her mouth with a clean cloth and shifted the pillows behind her back so she could sit up. Her throat felt less scratchy now and she did not sneeze all the time. The hot herb tea must be working. She would be sure to ask for the remedy before she returned to the temple. If she were clever, she could extend her disability and wallow in this lovely pampering. She curled her toes then stretched. The covers surrounded her with warmth, caressed her body with soft hands. She closed her eyes, a little sleepy.

“Stay away from there,” Livia heard. “Our guest is sleeping.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Livia opened her eyes to find a small boy standing by the bed. Five or six years old, she estimated. Golden hair curled on his forehead and around his ears. Bright blue eyes focused on her. Curious eyes. Strange coloring for a child whose mother had dark hair. The boy held a wriggling black puppy in his arms that leaped onto the bed and pounced on Livia’s sore chest with its paws planted directly on her breast. She rolled to move the puppy’s weight. A wet tongue licked her cheek and nose and mouth. She chuckled, petting the dog on its head before it burrowed under the sheet.

“Jupiter, come here,” the boy commanded.

“A big name for such a little dog,” Livia said.

“He will be enormous when he grows up. Just wait. Then you cannot make fun of him.” He reached for the buried puppy.

“Let him stay,” Livia said. She missed the dogs that lived near her parents’ house. Vestals were not allowed pets. Jupiter crawled over her legs and fell between them, nosing his way with his cold, wet snout up her body until he found her chin which he started to lick. She coughed again and smiled. “I like you too.”

“Who are you?” the boy asked.

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