Bee Among the Clover (236 page)

“No one’s hurt?” Roman asked, setting down the pouches with trembling fingers, somehow managing to keep from throwing his arms
around Aron. He looked them both over, and there wasn’t a mark on either one.

“No, everyone’s safe, thanks to Aron here,” Wulfgar said, sitting down on the bed and indicating for them to settle themselves next to him. “But I think he should tell you the tale.”

Roman obeyed, sitting to one side of him and not resisting the thane’s embrace as he tugged him closer. He laid his head against Wulfgar’s shoulder and reached out for Aron’s hand, his heart lightening at the contact. He couldn’t imagine what the cause for all this joviality was. “Aron?”

Aron’s insides clenched at the easy embrace Wulfgar gave to Roman and the way Roman leaned into the thane. Suddenly he wasn’t as happy or excited as he’d been a few minutes prior, though the knot in his stomach eased somewhat when the slave reached for Aron’s hand.

He shrugged. “There’s not really much to tell. Wulfgar was about to slay the boar when it changed directions and charged at Gaeric. Our lord had given me a spear just in case, and I didn’t really think and threw it at the boar. ’Twas luck that the aim was true and the boar fell.”

Wulfgar shook his head with a chuckle, ruffling Aron’s hair. “Aron’s being modest, Roman. He was magnificent!”
Roman was glad Aron had such an exciting first hunting trip and grateful neither of them had been hurt. He was certain the thane would reward Aron somehow, and he smiled when Wulfgar told him there was a feast this eve and he hoped Roman felt well enough to attend. He nodded, eager to celebrate with Aron. “Yes, my lord, I’d like that.” He was so proud of Aron he wished he could kiss him, but that could wait for later.
Wulfgar gave him a wide smile and tilted Roman’s chin up, leaning down to kiss him. His voice was husky when he pulled away. “Good, my pretty one, and afterwards you and I and Aron will have our own celebration. ’Tis past time you joined us again. We’ve both missed your presence.” He turned his head to kiss Aron as well.
Panic welled, and Aron clung hard to Roman’s hand. He didn’t want Roman to join them. The very thought made him furious, but somehow he had to keep himself from communicating his jealousy to the thane. It was bad enough Wulfgar knew he was in love with Roman. He didn’t want to add anything else to Wulfgar’s hold over them.
If he was lucky, either Wulfgar would be too drunk to perform or the thane would concentrate his attention on himself. Wulfgar often did, knowing Aron would be returning home soon and taking it for granted that Roman would always be there to serve him. Not after he left, Aron vowed. Somehow, his darkling was going to be with him. Mayhap he could convince the thane that he wanted to watch them play together, but even that thought didn’t appease him. He didn’t want Wulfgar to witness what they shared. It was private and sacred.
Roman knew how upset Aron was, but he looked on returning to Wulfgar’s bed with nothing more than a trace of resignation. He’d known it was coming, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it, so he ignored it. He’d do what he had to when the time came, the way he always had. He’d find his measure of pleasure in it the same way Aron did each night. There was no real sense in getting upset over it. Then he remembered his own jealousy over the sounds from Wulfgar’s bed and suddenly worried Aron would be unable to contain himself. He’d have to find a way to talk to him in private about it beforehand.
Wulfgar lifted his head and smiled at them both. “You two truly are my greatest treasures,” he said, ruffling Aron’s thick hair and twining his fingers through Roman’s. Roman smiled at him and cut a glance to Aron, worry filling him at the mulish look in his eyes. Thankfully, Wulfgar didn’t seem to notice it.
Wulfgar rose then, kissing them each one more time. “I want the two of you to dress in your finest this eve. Wear your new tunics and the collars I gifted you with upon the trip to the king. Roman, have a bath made ready. I want everyone to see just how lucky I am to have you both and how proud I am of you.”
Roman nodded. He and Aron’s relations with the others in the hall had been strained after their escapade, but this would ease that, when everyone saw that Wulfgar had more than forgiven them. Roman hoped so, anyway. He was eager to have the animosity shown to them come to an end.
When the door shut behind the thane, he scooted over to wrap his arms around Aron, burying his face in his neck. “I’m so glad you’re all right, Aron. When I saw the party return so soon, I was terrified.”
Aron wrapped his arms around Roman, nuzzling into his hair. “I’m fine, darkling.”
Roman lifted his head, meeting his lover’s eyes, his own knowing and understanding. “You’re not fine, Aron, but you must pretend to be.” He clasped Aron’s hands in his own. “I love you, Aron, but you know there’s no help for how we both must serve Wulfgar. You mustn’t show your upset to him, please.”
Aron scowled. “Think you I don’t know that? I’ll bite my tongue, darkling. I haven’t any choice.”
Roman flinched at the sharp tone and tried to hide the stab of hurt. “I only meant….” He let out a heavy sigh. He hated this. He wanted to soothe Aron, and he didn’t want Wulfgar touching Aron anymore than Aron wanted the thane touching Roman. “What would you have me do? I do love you, Aron, but I belong to him.”
Oh, how those words stung like salt in an open wound. Aron bit back a sharp retort. Roman was his! Roman wanted to be Aron’s, and it dug at his pride and every protective and possessive instinct he had that he had no choice but to watch and even help the thane use the man Aron loved.
“I know, darkling,” Aron admitted, pulling Roman close again. He didn’t want to take out his anger and frustration on Roman, especially in the short moments that they could steal to be together.
Aron didn’t know how he was going to handle it this evening, but he had to find a way. He wasn’t about to get Roman into trouble or have him hurt because of his temper. Even though the thane had gotten over his anger with them, there was no guarantee it was going to last if Aron irritated him. “I will bite my tongue, Marcus,” he promised, seeking to soothe Roman.
Roman sighed and turned his face into Aron’s neck. Aron smiled as the tension drained from the slave’s body. Then Roman raised his head, and his slim fingers traced along Aron’s jaw. His smile took Aron’s breath away. “Think, my own, we can share a bath this afternoon if we’re quiet about it.”
The sound of a hot bath with Roman’s body wrapped around him and then smoothing scented oils into his skin before the fire sounded wonderful. Aron started to reply when Roman’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide.
“What is it, darkling?” Aron asked, looking over his shoulder to see if the thane had returned unbeknownst, but the doorway was closed.
“The mark,” Roman gasped. “How are we to keep him from noticing it’s gone? I can wrap a bandage around my thigh for this evening, but I won’t be able to do that forever.”
Aron bit his lip. It was times like these he was reminded that he should tell Roman the truth about the bargain he’d made with Cate. But he also knew Roman might change his mind if he found out that when they left here in three months’ time, Aron would have yet another indenture to serve. He couldn’t bear to leave Roman behind again, so he kept Cate’s magic and the bargain he’d made with her, a secret.
Aron tugged Roman to his feet and brushed a tender kiss on his frowning lips. “I’ll think of something. Go, darkling, call for our bath, and we’ll relax and worry about the morrow when it comes.”
Roman chewed his upper lip in concern, but Aron said he’d think of something, and Roman trusted him. He hurried to send for the bath water. He pushed aside his worries in favor of the rare chance to be with the young man he loved.
They lingered in the tub for as long as they dared, listening for any sounds of Wulfgar approaching. They were assured no one would interrupt. Except for them, no one entered the thane’s sanctuary without being invited to do so. Not even his son. So they held each other and touched and exchanged leisurely kisses, trying to create a buffer between them and what was to come.
Roman wished Aron could relax more and enjoy the coming evening. The feast was being held in his honor, and he’d earned it, but he knew Aron was brooding over what would happen when the feasting was done. Roman was less apprehensive. Being in the thane’s bed was preferable to listening to him make Aron moan… but he banished the thought before it started eating away at him as well.
“Let me brush your hair, Aron.” Roman smiled as Aron sat in front of the fire, and he sat behind him, the firelight making Aron’s hair shine a deep, warm gold. Roman let his fingers play through it as he combed, working out each snarl with care.
Aron sat unmoving, caught between the warmth of the fire and Roman’s body behind him. The slow sweep of the brush through his hair was surprisingly soothing, and despite his best efforts to hold onto his anger, he found it fading away. So he drowsed, listening to the melody of his darkling’s voice as he hummed some unknown tune under his breath.
Aron tilted his head back against Roman’s shoulder when he set the brush aside and smiled at him. “What’s that song?”
Roman reddened, brushing a kiss to Aron’s temple. “I don’t know the words, nor if it even has any. ’Tis one my mother used to hum to me as a child when I was upset.”
“It’s lovely. Like you.” Aron earned another pretty flush for that compliment and smiled, turning to kneel in front of Roman. He reached for the small bottle of oil Roman had brought over with them, pouring some into his palm and rubbing his hands together to warm it. He smiled wider when his darkling’s eyes fluttered closed with a moan as Aron began massaging the oil into his beautiful, silken skin.
Roman took the bottle after a few moments and returned the favor. All too soon, the sun was fading, and they had no choice but to get dressed and ready themselves for the feast. Neither said anything as they pulled on the fine tunics and fresh trews and replaced the leather and steel collars with the delicate gold ones Wulfgar had asked them to wear.
Once both of them were dressed, Aron took up the brush Roman had set aside and gestured him to sit, returning the favor and pulling the brush through Roman’s thick waves. He’d never seen hair like Roman’s, black as night and falling in shining tumbles around his slim shoulders and down his back.
Just then, the door swung open and Wulfgar stood in the doorway, a grin on his face. Aron looked away, setting the brush aside and trying to ignore the tightening in his chest.
“You two certainly look a sight. Come, my treasures.” Wulfgar approached the bed and held a hand out to each of them. “Let’s celebrate a new beginning tonight.”
“Aye, my lord,” Roman murmured, rising. Aron rose as well, not saying anything, though he was glad when the thane didn’t attach the leashes.
Once in the hall, Wulfgar sat Aron on one side of him, Roman on the other. There was little chance for eye contact, let alone to speak with each other, but then again, there wasn’t much to be said either. What would happen would happen. Aron tried to enjoy the feast. He smiled when he was expected to smile and allowed Wulfgar’s occasional kisses and touches, trying not to look when he’d bestow the same on Roman.
Then Wulfgar clapped his hands twice to draw the entire hall’s attention. “Today, my young thrall did me a great service. Were it not for his quick thinking and sure arm, I might have lost my greatest fortune, my son, Gaeric.” The thane reached over and ruffled his son’s hair affectionately. Then he turned to Aron, his eyes warm. “I thank you, Aron, but that’s not sufficient in my eyes.”
Aron’s nodded in acknowledgment. He admitted he was curious what sort of reward the thane would see fit to give him. Perhaps it’d be another night alone with Roman, though he couldn’t quite see Wulfgar, even in this fine of a mood, giving him that, considering the recent past.
Wulfgar gave him a magnanimous grin. “You’ll choose your reward, boy. Anything that is within my power to give you, you’ve only to ask and it’s yours. Save one thing: your freedom.” The thane chuckled and gave him a wink. “I’m grateful, but not touched in the head.”
Aron’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at the thane. Anything? He wasn’t surprised his servitude being cut short was the exception. At first, he couldn’t think of anything he truly wanted, and then he knew. Replaying Wulfgar’s words in his head, his heart pounded when he realized that, yes, he could ask for that within the strictures the thane had given.
His eyes flicked to Roman just behind Wulfgar, then met the thane’s eyes, trembling, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet and sure. “My lord, I know what I want.”
Wulfgar arched an eyebrow. “Well, boy, speak up. What is it?” There was a flicker of wariness in the thane’s eyes, as if he might suspect what Aron intended, and he laid a proprietary hand on Roman’s arm, which only served to steel Aron’s resolve.
He lifted his chin and met the thane’s eyes squarely, his mind racing as he thought how best to phrase it so Wulfgar couldn’t find a way to weasel out of his promise. “I want the ownership of your slave, Marcus Naevius Atellus—Roman. He’ll be mine in all respects and in the eyes of everyone.”
Silence reigned in the hall before it erupted into chaos as battle-lords shouted, Osric’s voice above the rest. Aron held his breath, not taking his eyes from Wulfgar and expecting at any moment to be struck down where he sat. It took all of his courage not to flinch when Wulfgar’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, but Aron stood his ground. The thane had said “anything,” and Aron refused to back down.
After several minutes, the hall fell silent, all eyes on Wulfgar, waiting to see what he would do. Aron was hard-pressed to keep from shaking as Wulfgar continued to stare, unspeaking. Then the thane gave a short nod, turning to Roman and drawing him into his lap. Aron fisted his hands as Wulfgar kissed the slave, long and lingering, before removing the collar and setting Roman from him. Cold gray eyes pierced Aron, and he drew a deep breath.
“He’s yours, boy. Do what you will with him.”
Aron rose on shaky legs, his gaze wary on the thane as he reached out and took Roman’s hand, feeling how it trembled. He wanted to reassure his darkling, but he didn’t dare yet. Roman was probably worried Wulfgar would retract the boon and they’d both be in terrible trouble for this, but Aron could tell that even though the thane was furious, he wasn’t going to go back on his word.
For the first time since the night of the Hunt, Roman wanted to snatch his hand away from him. But he couldn’t, now more than ever he couldn’t: he belonged to Aron. His heart sank. He should have known. He’d so badly wanted to believe Aron would love him as an equal, that theirs would be a true partnership. But if Aron wanted him as an equal, why not ask for Roman’s freedom instead of asking to own him? Now he was not only still a slave, but Aron’s slave. And for some reason he couldn’t fathom, being a slave to Aron was far worse than being a slave to anyone else.
Perhaps because he’d believed that Aron was the one person who looked at him as a man, not property. He’d been very wrong. Lowering his head, he obediently allowed himself to be drawn toward Aron, resignation and soul-deep hurt settling inside him.
Osric’s voice booming out startled him and he jumped when the battle-lord protested. “Wulfgar! You cannot be serious! The boy is a
thrall
! He cannot
own
anything, let alone a slave!”
Wulfgar’s fist came down on the wooden table with a massive thump, rattling the mugs together. “What would you have me do, Osric?” he roared, loud enough to quiet any other angry mutterings. Roman closed his eyes, wishing the entire evening could be turned back and done differently. “I gave my word. Would you have me tarnish my honor for the sake of propriety?”