Bee Among the Clover (244 page)

Aron’s voice was bitter and sharp. “Yes, you said you belonged to me, but in every way that matters? Another man
owned
you, Marcus. In what way does that not matter? I had a chance to change that, to keep you safe and keep you with me. Gods, Marcus, we spoke just this afternoon about not wanting you to return to your duties with Wulfgar! And then there it was, my chance to make that stop. So yes, forgive me, I could’ve asked for your freedom, and you’d even now be gone from here. I made a mistake in thinking you didn’t want to leave me.”
It’d occurred to him to ask for Roman’s freedom. Only he knew that in three months, they wouldn’t both be free. He wouldn’t; his promise to Cate held him. Was it so wrong to want these three months left with Roman? Even if Aron asked Cate if Roman could stay with him during his service, Aron wasn’t sure anymore if Roman would.
Aron shook his head. He wasn’t going to shame himself any further by revealing the depth of his foolish sacrifice for this man. He wouldn’t reveal what he’d bargained with Cate. Though, in all honesty, he’d do it again. For his darkling’s life he’d do anything, even if that life wouldn’t be spent together.
“I cannot protect you if you’re not here, Marcus. Had I asked for your freedom, Wulfgar probably would’ve banished you from these lands, and then what?” Aron gave him a dark look, hurt beyond belief that Roman didn’t see how this was the best way. “You saw how easily I was recaptured; you would’ve had me send you off with only the clothes on your back to try and make it somewhere safe and attempt to scrape out a survival for the next three months?”
Aron shook his head, jaw clenched as Roman sat there unspeaking. “It matters not. The fact remains, I made a mistake. I cannot change it now, but by the gods, Marcus, it’s three months. I’ll ask nothing of you. Despite what you believe, I have no desire to
own
you. So keep your hatred if you will.”
Roman shook his head, a lump hard in his throat. “I don’t hate you, Aron. I cannot hate you, though sometimes I wish I could. I love you, and you have such complete power over me. It terrifies me.” Tears welled in Roman’s eyes as he saw Aron flinch. “I’m sorry, I misunderstood. I didn’t think of what Wulfgar would do if you’d freed me or what any of the others might do. You’re right.” He hated seeing Aron in pain, and he hated even more knowing he was the cause of it. He reached out, brushing his hand down Aron’s arm and feeling the coiled tensed power in it.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Marcus. How can you think I’d wish to hurt you? How many times do I have to tell you I’m not them? I don’t want power over you, and I’m helpless to get us out of the situation we’re in.” The anger, frustration, and raw hurt in Aron’s eyes tore Roman apart.
Tears slipped down Roman’s face, the outpouring of emotion he’d been trying to hold in finally breaking loose and flowing free. “You’re not them.” He believed that. He had to believe that. Then why didn’t Aron free him now, when it was just of two of them here and nobody else would know? He couldn’t ask; it would only wound Aron deeper than he already was. Roman had to trust him.
He laid his head down on his knees, his shoulders shaking. Deliberately, he remembered that day in glade. How Aron had let him make love to him and taken joy in it. No, Aron was nothing like the others. He had to trust him.
“But you do have power over me, whether you will it or not. You’re the one man who can destroy me.” His words were muffled and broken by long shuddering breaths. “I’m sorry I cannot be happy about this turn of events. I know now how you meant it, and maybe you cannot see how much this changes things between us.” Roman looked up again and met Aron’s gaze. “I’ve been a slave too long. I don’t know how to be free anymore. I don’t know how to be that man who chose you freely, not now that you own me. I don’t know how to separate it. You didn’t make me this way, but this is how I am. I’m so frightened, Aron. I don’t think I know how to be Marcus anymore, not now.”
Roman clenched his eyes shut, silent sobs shaking his body. He didn’t know how to explain it, and he was only making things worse. He could tell by the agony he’d seen in Aron’s eyes. He just wanted to go back to their stolen moment last week, to the feel of their bodies entwined together in the lush grass, the scent of clover heavy in the air and the muted bee song in the background. “I loved Wulfgar because I had to love him. I chose to love you, to let you love me. I won’t take it back.”
His head jerked up and he leaned forward, grasping Aron’s hands. “Tell me it’ll be all right, Aron. Jesu, please tell me that.” He needed to know in three months they’d be all right. They’d be able to walk out of here, both of them free and with each other.
Aron ached. His heart hurt, and it was his darkling who had caused it, but even amidst the pain, he couldn’t turn away from him. He reached for Roman, burying his face in his hair. “It’ll be all right, darkling. Somehow, someway, it will be.” He didn’t know if it was true, doubted it highly, but Roman needed the assurance, and Aron would do anything to give Roman what he needed. Pulling back, he tipped Roman’s chin up, meeting his huge, teary eyes.
“You say I have power over you, that I could destroy you, but darkling, think you that you have no power over me?” He cocked his head. “That’s what love is, I think, Marcus. Giving someone the power to destroy you, but trusting them not to.” And there were no words for how much it hurt him that Roman didn’t trust him that way. How could he even for a moment think Aron would ever willingly harm him? He would give his life for Roman’s. He had.
Roman stared at him, his voice shaky. “I want to trust you. Jesu, Aron, you don’t know how much, please understand. Once I knew how to believe, Aron, but I don’t remember how.”
“Well, we’ll just have to figure it out together, Marcus.” Aron drew him closer again, feeling the way Roman clung to him and trembled. Gods, he didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know how to help him. His darkling had every foundation torn from him, and it seemed every time he regained his footing, it was taken away again. He couldn’t blame Roman for not trusting, but gods, how he needed him to.
Roman burrowed into Aron, drinking in the comfort of the circle of his arms. He couldn’t bear Aron hurting like this; his own pain meant nothing in the face of it, and right now, he hated himself because he couldn’t give Aron what he so desperately wanted and needed. He didn’t know how to trust like that anymore.
Aron’s hands stroked his back with the same gentleness that had broken through his walls so many months before, and the tender caress eased some of his fear. It hadn’t occurred to him he might have power over Aron as well, and the look in his blue eyes when he’d heard Roman’s accusations told him he’d wounded him. He was still hurting. That told him more than anything the truth of Aron’s words. Mayhap things weren’t as unequal as he believed them to be.
“I love you, Aron.” Roman lifted his head and pressed his forehead to Aron’s. “I do love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. It’s with me every moment.” It brought him joy, it brought him sorrow, and he couldn’t bury it away. It was essential to him, now, more than ever.
“Aron, please, I need you.” The depth of it shook him. He needed to feel him, to taste him.
Aron wanted to, gods, he wanted to draw him beneath him and make love to him until his darkling didn’t doubt anymore, but something told him that wasn’t the way to prove it for Roman. Shaking his head slowly, he lifted Roman up and rose to his feet to carry him over to the pallet, lying down and drawing into his arms.
“No, darkling, not tonight.” Aron saw the way his face fell and the pain of rejection in his eyes. He shook his head and touched his cheek. “I love you, Marcus, do you understand me? I love
you
, not your body or the way it feels when I make love to you or you to me, but
you
. I told you I don’t wish to own you. You say this changes things between us, but I confess I don’t see how.”
Roman stared at him, his eyes huge, and Aron could see he was struggling to understand. The slave lowered his eyes, and his voice was quiet. “It changes everything. We were equals, and now we’re not.”
Aron shook his head, tightening his embrace and sighing. “We’re more equal than you think, darkling.” He wasn’t going to treat Roman like a slave, like some inanimate object with no feelings of its own. Of course, neither had Wulfgar, if he was honest. The thane had treated Roman well for the most part. Perhaps that was the problem. Had Roman belonged to a cruel master, then perhaps he could see the difference in belonging to Aron. Instead, Roman was going from Wulfgar, who cared for Roman, to Aron, who loved him. Perhaps his darkling couldn’t see the difference in the two.
He didn’t know, all he knew was he was so tired of Roman believing he was just a body, that he was worth nothing if he wasn’t serving someone. He’d change that, but it’d take time. If only they had time.
At first, Roman lay in Aron’s arms, stiff and uncertain. He was confused and upset. He didn’t know how to react to Aron’s apparent rejection of him. Aron was still angry with him, perhaps. After all, Aron could’ve asked for anything tonight, and all he’d gotten was a petulant slave for his trouble. But as Aron continued to hold him, he realized he didn’t feel rejection in Aron’s touch. Until Aron came along, he wasn’t used to just being held. He’d always avoided such intimacy as much as possible with Wulfgar. The times when the thane had insisted on keeping him in his bed, the arm he slung around him had more of a feel of possession to it than anything else.
But Aron’s touch wasn’t possessive, it was tender. He held Roman close, his fingers stroking through his hair, his other hand on the small of his back, his thumb brushing over his skin. Bit by bit, Roman relaxed, and he laid his head down on Aron’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He made himself forget what had happened earlier. Right now, they were only Roman and Aron. When it was just them and nothing else, he could feel Aron’s love. It was like a beacon cutting through all of the shadows in his mind.
Aron was beginning to despair that Roman would respond to him. It seemed an eternity before his darkling’s tension eased, but when he did, Roman curled closer into him. He wasn’t trembling anymore, and his breath was even on his chest. Aron looked down at him. Dark shadows bruised the skin under Roman’s eyes, but his face was relaxed, and he looked almost at peace.
He’d give anything to lay there and hold Roman as he slept. Gods knew he and his darkling both could use it after a day like this. But there was going to be no sleep, for Aron at least, and as much as he wished Roman would sleep through it, he knew his darkling would hear every bit of what happened this night.
Aron held him, listened to him breathe, for as long as he could. He was reluctant to let him go, but he could hear the sounds in the hall dimming and knew the feast was winding down. He couldn’t risk Wulfgar returning to the room to find Aron not waiting in the bed for him. Testing the thane now would be beyond foolish; it would be suicidal.
And so he forced himself to let go, though it was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He eased from Roman’s side, though his heart ached at the soft sound of distress his darkling made, the way his smooth brow furrowed and he turned onto his side, one slim hand burying in the furs. Aron smiled and leaned down to brush a feather-light kiss across his elegant cheek. Then he rose and washed himself with the basin of water beside the fire before turning to look at the bed of furs.
Aron’s jaw clenched as he steeled his spine and crossed to the bed. He climbed on and sat in the center, staring at the door and waiting.
When Wulfgar stumbled into the room, he shut the door, leaning against it. He blinked, his eyes focusing on Aron, then glanced down at Roman’s pallet. Aron’s spine stiffened, but the thane made no movement toward his darkling. Instead, he took several lurching steps toward the bed, so drunk that it looked to be quite a task. Aron knew if Roman were awake, he’d go to him and help him. Aron squared his jaw and remained where he was, trying to gauge Wulfgar’s mood.
Wulfgar fell across the bed, and Aron tensed, waiting for the thane to grab him. Gods, he hoped Wulfgar’s fury and the drink wouldn’t make him be too brutal. It would only upset Roman more than he was already.
The thane sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. Aron didn’t move, and then Wulfgar reached over and shoved him on his back into the furs. Aron held his breath, but Wulfgar turned onto his side away from him, growling, “Go to sleep. Don’t even think about moving from this bed.”
Aron laid there, brows knit together, heart pounding as he realized the thane wasn’t going to touch him. He wasn’t quite sure he understood, and he wished if Wulfgar wasn’t going to make use of him he would send him back to the pallet and Roman. Then it made sense, in a strange way. Aron had taken Roman from Wulfgar, and now Wulfgar was keeping Aron from his darkling as well. His tension ebbed away when the thane began to snore. He ached to go and join his darkling on the floor, but he dared not.
Aron tried to take this for the reprieve it was, but it was impossible. Roman needed him, and right now he needed Roman as well. He didn’t understand how it all had gone so wrong. He’d been so sure this was the right thing to do. He lay awake long into the night, his mind swirling and his heart a rock in his chest.