At His Throat, a Promise (20 page)

“Did you mean it?”

“At the time,” Harte whispered. “At that moment, I hated you. I thought you just wanted Gabriel to leave because you never… you know, touched him. I thought you hated him. But you didn"t, did you?”

Ellis had never told Harte the real reason behind the punishment. He was embarrassed by his own mistake, but he also didn"t want Harte to think he had betrayed the master. Despite whatever difficulties they were facing at the moment, Harte was and would always be loyal to William first.

“Not at all. I liked him very much. It… it hurt to see him go.

But I don"t blame Sir.”

“Who
are
you loyal to, Ellis?” The tenor of his voice was serious, forcing itself onto Ellis unrelentingly.

“What do you mean?” he stalled.

“Who"s number one? Who has your loyalty? Who do you trust?”

Ellis stared straight ahead, though Harte likely couldn"t see.

“Me.”

To his surprise, Harte laughed. “Only, they don"t know that, do they?”

Ellis didn"t need to ask who
they
were.
Everyone else
. “It"s our 167

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

secret,” he said, smiling. He didn"t want Harte to think he had
no
other loyalties than those to himself, because he did. He cared very much for Harte and for William. But that kind of caring could only hurt in the end—look at Harte, falling for his master. There could be no more uncertain future than that.

“I"m loyal to Master first, I think,” Harte said, sounding a little uncertain.

“I know you are. You"re a good slave.”

Harte sighed. “Thank you.”

They continued on in comfortable quiet for a while. Ellis tried not to let his unease show, but he had absolutely no idea if they were going in the right direction. Harte"s hold on his hand was more following than leading, so the responsibility to get them safely home was on Ellis.

Eventually, he had to stop. Their surroundings were in no way familiar, and the treetops blocked the moonlight just enough to make walking difficult and painful.

“My feet are
killing
me,” Harte whispered. Ellis could commiserate.

“I don"t know if this is the right way,” he said.

“Oh,” Harte said in a small voice. He looked around as if the trees had answers. “Oh.”

Then Ellis heard someone call his name. Relief flooded him.

He began to walk toward the sound, though his steps slowed when he heard the potent anger in the master"s voice—for it was William calling their names.

“We"re here, Master!” Harte cried, running toward the voice.

Ellis followed him despite his misgivings. William wouldn"t punish them in the woods, after all.

“Oh, thank—” William"s voice cut off because Harte had 168

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

launched himself into his arms.

Ellis caught up and knelt at the master"s feet, ignoring the pinecones shredding his shins.

William pulled him up immediately and wrapped his free arm around him, hauling him into the shared embrace. Ellis finally let himself feel the fear that had threatened him all throughout his pursuit of Harte.

“Where have you been? Are you okay? Oh, Ellis, your feet…

Harte, I take it this was your doing?” The master spoke quickly but didn"t seem angry, more relieved.

“Yes, Master, it was my fault. I went into the woods and Ellis had to come find me.”

William pressed a kiss to Ellis"s hair. It was a thank-you, he knew.

“Why would you go into the woods? You know the rules, you know what happened last time… ”

Harte squirmed a little until he was able to pull back enough to look up at the master. “I do remember, and I"m sorry. I just needed to get away for a bit, be by myself. I was trying to understand. I was going to come back, I swear.”

“Why would you assume I"d think you weren"t coming back?” William asked evenly, his relief at having found them seeming to wane in the face of Harte"s irresponsibility.

“I-I don"t know, Master. But I wasn"t running away, I was just… confused. But Ellis helped me understand.” William looked between the two before sighing. “We"ll talk about this more when we get back. Come on.” His strides were hard to match, and it wasn"t long before Ellis"s feet, swollen and cut as they were, failed him, sending him sprawling.

169

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

“Ellis!” Harte cried, helping him up.

“Sorry,” Ellis said quickly, brushing the dirt from his shift.

William took in the state of him, seeming to mentally shake himself. He bent down and untied his boots, leaving him in socks.

Ellis stood, confused, until William brought the boots to him and physically put his feet inside them. The soft interiors were bliss after the unforgiving ground, and Ellis moaned in relief.

“All right?” William asked, surprising Ellis when he knelt to tie the laces.

Ellis nodded. The boots were much too big for him, both in width and length, but they were scores better than the earth.

“While I"m down here, you might as well get on,” William said to Harte, indicating his back.

“Master, no!” Harte protested. “It wouldn"t be right.”

“I"m not asking you your opinion,” William said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Ellis closed his eyes. If ever there was a time for Harte to improve his attitude, this was it.

To Ellis"s relief, Harte climbed onto William"s back without further protestation. William stood easily and began to walk again, only somewhat slower because of his burden. Ellis"s steps were clumsy, but he kept up.

Harte had his arms wrapped around the master"s neck, legs around his waist, and face on his back. He looked uncomfortable but not unhappy. Ellis watched with a feeling like tenderness as Harte placed a kiss on William"s back, though there was no way William would feel exactly what it was.

They made it out of the forest easily enough to embarrass Ellis for feeling so lost.

William didn"t let Harte down until they were in the living 170

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

room. There, he bent his knees and Harte slid down reluctantly.

Ellis sat on the floor to take off the boots, which were uncomfortably wet. And not from sweat, he realised as he pulled them off. His feet were both bleeding quite profusely.

He was grateful that the hardwood floor was heavily lacquered.

A stain would have made Ellis feel nauseous.

“To your room, Harte. No lesson for you tonight. Tomorrow is Saturday; your punishment will be at noon.” To William"s discernible surprise, Harte did not protest in any way. He fell to his knees and said, “Thank you, Master.” He then waited for William"s touch before he rose and walked with a straight back out of the room.

The tension that had crowded them since Gabriel had left lifted slightly.

“How is it that your feet are torn to shreds and his were barely scratched?”

Ellis cringed, even though it hadn"t been said critically. “I suppose my thoughts were less on the placement of my feet and more on his wellbeing.”

“That is the way of it with you, I"m beginning to see.” William"s cryptic words made Ellis go over his own again.

Was William saying he wasn"t careful about himself when it came to Harte? This, after Harte had accused him of being without loyalty? It was so difficult to know exactly where he stood in this house.

Though no matter where he stood, at that moment, it was sure to hurt.

“Let"s get you cleaned up,” William said.

Ellis dutifully followed William to his room, hovering around the doorway because he hadn"t specifically been invited in. It was 171

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

still strange, being in William"s bedroom. Not unusual, really. Just strange. Intimate.

William turned and pulled him in, leading him into the bathroom by a firm grip on his arm. Ellis was a little disappointed that he hadn"t gotten carried like Harte had, but at the same time, he felt it showed that William thought he was tough.

He wasn"t. His pain threshold was not that impressive. He very badly wanted to sit down.

To his relief, William had him do so, setting him on the far edge of the tub. He poured something into the water, and Ellis just hoped it wouldn"t sting. The tub filled just enough to cover him up to his ankles, and thankfully, it didn"t hurt any more than one would expect from warm water in open cuts.

The water began to turn a muddy pink, and Ellis wrinkled his nose at it. With the dirt and excess blood cleaned, Ellis could see there was only one rather impressive gash on one foot and a number of smaller ones on the other. There were scratches and a few swollen, bruised areas, but the long slice was the main concern.

“If this hasn"t closed up satisfactorily by morning, I"ll take you to the hospital. It"s not deep, though. I think you"ll be fine.” Ellis nodded, raising his foot when William put a hand under his calf.

The close inspection almost made him blush, but he reined it in. It was his
foot
, for goodness" sake.

“You talked to Harte, I take it?” William asked neutrally. He rinsed Ellis"s feet and placed them on the ledge next to him, so he was perched on one side with his feet propped on the other.

William emptied and cleaned the tub before stoppering it and filling it again.

172

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

“Yes, Sir.”

William placed Ellis"s feet back into the water, showing utmost care. He added more of the liquid stuff that didn"t hurt. “And?”

“And I think he has a better understanding of his role, Sir.”

“And what is his role, Ellis?”

Ellis immediately thought about what answer William wanted to his obviously trick question. “He"s a slave, Sir. His role is to serve you as he learns from you. He should be deferential and obedient.”

“Is that from the Slaves" Rulebook?”

“No, Sir. It"s from my own training.”

“Of course. And what is the master"s role?”

“I"m sorry, Sir. I was never taught that.”

“In your opinion, then.”

Ellis took a shaky breath; his feet were way too sore for this particular tightrope. “The master"s job is to train the slave to the best of his ability, teaching him as much as possible about his future job. The master should make use of his slave, discipline accordingly, and make sure the slave feels comfortable and secure.”

“Did your master make you feel that way?”

“In some ways, Sir. I always knew where I stood.”

“And you don"t, here?”

“It"s different, Sir. Complicated.”

“And Harte? Do you think I"ve… disciplined him accordingly?”

They"d arrived at the crux of the matter, but Ellis didn"t know how to go on. “Harte is not like most slaves, Sir,” he said, hoping he"d managed to avoid the question.

He had not. “He needs
more
than most slaves, wouldn"t you 173

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

say? More attention, more affection, more praise, more discipline?

And yet he"s the brightest slave I know in the Circle, possibly excepting only yourself, though I don"t have enough experience with you to make a definite assertion.”

“Thank you, Sir. And I would agree with you that Harte is a…

needy slave.”

“I"ve been hesitant to punish him,” William said, as if Ellis didn"t already know this.

“Yes, Sir.”

William emptied the tub again and rinsed Ellis feet. The blood had stopped flowing freely. William patted them dry very gently before getting up and coming back with a roll of gauze and tape.

“I"ve always been lenient with him. He doesn"t respond well to punishment.”

Meaning, Ellis knew, that he
liked
it. Except Punishment Number Two, of course. And William obviously didn"t want to
break
Harte, which that punishment could very well do.

“Sir, I think an immediate, short-term, physical punishment would be best suited to Harte"s needs.”

“The few times I"ve flogged him… Well, it didn"t end up being punishment.”

Ellis held out his foot as the master wrapped it, taping it to his satisfaction before giving the other foot similar treatment. “Sir, if I may?”

“Please.”

In the uncomfortable and unfamiliar position of giving advice to a master, Ellis tried to be diplomatic. “Those times you whipped him, afterward, you… ?”

“Had sex with him,” William said with a self-deprecating lilt.

“It"s impossible not to. He"s beautiful when… ” 174

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

“Sir, I think the problem might be your behaviour. Excuse me for saying so. If you have sex with him every time after you whip him, he adapts to whipping as foreplay. You have to maintain that it is punishment. Don"t have sex with him. Don"t encourage any…

seductive behaviour on his part. Go in with the intention to punish him and don"t lose focus. Also, I wouldn"t use a flogger. He"s become trained to equate the flogger with sex.” William exhaled and shook his head. “You will be a great master one day, Ellis. Your counsel is invaluable.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Ellis said reverently. He closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the praise. He almost shouted when he was unceremoniously lifted up and carried to the master"s bed, where he was settled like spun glass instead of human form.

“I would like you to be there for Harte"s punishment tomorrow,” William said. “Take off your tunic and get under the covers. You"ll sleep here tonight.”

Ellis shimmied out of the garment. He looked around for a place to put it, but William took it from him. Then William undressed and got in beside Ellis, who was warmed by his heat.

“I"ve neglected teaching you this evening,” William lamented, but he kissed Ellis for a few long, sensual moments, so he obviously wasn"t too broken up about it.

“I"ll catch up, Sir,” Ellis whispered.

“I"ve no doubt you will.”

Ellis"s stomach decided to point out that William had also neglected
feeding
him, which made Ellis wince in embarrassment, but William only laughed.

“I"ll be back with dinner,” he said, pushing Ellis back down when he tried to get up to help. “I don"t want you walking on that cut until I"m satisfied it"s healed.”