Bee Among the Clover (259 page)

A
FTER the evening meal, Aron was waiting on the bed as usual, in a foul mood. Roman was on the pallet, and he wanted to be with his darkling, not
waiting on the thane. He could not get the picture of Osric choking Roman out of his mind, and every time he saw the livid bruises on Roman’s
throat, he wanted to stalk into the hall and kill the battle-lord. When Wulfgar strode into the room, Aron glowered at him, deciding the thane deserved almost as much.
Wulfgar sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed and began tugging off his boots. “What now? By the gods, Aron, you try my patience with
your glaring daggers at me every time I turn around.” Wulfgar cut a sharp
glance at Aron, who continued to glare.
“Nothing, my lord.” Aron bit off his words, but he longed to tell the thane what he thought of him, his attitude, and his disregard for Roman’s
well-being.
“I don’t know why I’m bothering myself to do so, but I believe you
and I need to have a talk, boy,” Wulfgar said, his eyes shrewd as he looked at Aron. “I suppose you think my behavior with Osric today was callous
and uncaring?”
Aron narrowed his eyes at Wulfgar. “Aye, I do.” It infuriated him all
over again. While he had been grateful the thane had left him alone with
his darkling for the afternoon, part of him had bristled at Wulfgar’s dismissal of a man who had been a part of his life for so many years. He
bit back the other words he wanted to say, knowing it would earn him a
backhand if not a beating, and he had no wish for either, though he
continued to seethe inside.
“You’re a fool, boy, in more ways than one,” Wulfgar said, his voice
cold. “I’ve tried to protect you both as best I can while saving your
arrogant pride. Osric has broken no laws, nor has he expressly gone against my orders, so I’ve no cause to get rid of him. He doesn’t respect

your authority over Roman, nor does any other man here. And mayhap I’m a fool myself for doing so.”

Aron tried to remain silent, but the words burst forth despite his efforts. “He didn’t respect your authority either, if you recall.” Wulfgar’s frown deepened, and Aron knew his jab had hit. Osric had openly defied the thane at the king’s camp and seemed to be more inclined to do so as of late.

Wulfgar heaved a heavy sigh. “That’s neither here nor there, boy. Your slave is in danger every time he sets foot outside of this room, and you cannot protect him. Perhaps it’s time Roman protected himself.”

Incensed, Aron leapt off the bed, fisting his hands at his sides. He was so angry he almost struck the thane. What had gotten into him? He’d always thought, on some level, Wulfgar cared for them both, but to suggest they sit back and do nothing, leaving Roman to fend for himself, sickened him. “Osric isn’t right in the head, and you want me to ignore it while he accosts Marcus?”

Wulfgar shook his head. “That isn’t what I said. Sit down, boy.” Aron fumed, having to force himself to obey, and the thane continued, “Osric isn’t going to stop this time, I fear, and Roman knows that, eh Roman?” They both looked over at his darkling, who was watching them intently.

Roman nodded his head. Aron frowned; instead of the terror he normally saw at the mention of Osric’s name, his darkling seemed almost relieved. He didn’t have time to think on it though, because Wulfgar turned back to him.

“If Roman were to challenge Osric, I’d allow it.”

Aron stared agape at Wulfgar, disbelieving. He couldn’t be serious. He wanted Roman to challenge Osric?! The thane was mad, that was all there was to it. Yes, Roman had been training
him
, so his darkling wasn’t entirely rusty, but Osric practiced every day, and he was acting less and less rational. He would not risk pitting Roman’s skills against the battlelord’s.

Wulfgar sighed again. “Don’t look at me like I’ve lost my mind, boy. Roman has bested Osric before, and after everything, I believe he deserves a chance to avenge the wrongs Osric has committed on him, don’t you?”

Aron glared. “My lord, Osric is mad. He’s obsessed and unstable and will try to kill Marcus! What good could come of it? Should Marcus defeat him, Osric would only be more enraged, being defeated at swords by a slave.”

Wulfgar’s jaw tightened. “Yes, Osric is slipping into some stage of madness I don’t understand. I’m simply saying that, should you choose, I’d have no issue with a challenge between them.”

Roman drew in his upper lip. He could feel the tension in the air between the two of them and was afraid it would erupt into violence. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it if they came to blows, and he wanted to interrupt and add his own thoughts, but he hadn’t been given permission either. Both Wulfgar and Aron were so involved in their argument they’d forgotten his presence, which was ironic given the topic.

On one hand, he resented being spoken about as if he weren’t there; on the other, he was used to it, and he understood it somewhat. He had no say in what happened. Aron was his owner, despite the other man’s reluctance to admit the truth, and in the end, Wulfgar had the final authority over them both. It gnawed at him though. The weight of the invisible chains that bound him were as heavy right now as they had been the moment Wulfgar first laid that collar around his neck.

Roman drew his knees up to his chest. Yes, he’d beaten Osric in the past, and no, he didn’t know if he could do so again, but he wanted, no, needed the chance. The only reason he’d stayed his hand in the past was because he’d no wish to be hung for defending himself, but if the thane allowed it and he won, no one would gainsay Wulfgar’s decision.

His determination revived as a wild fierceness swept through him. He had no illusions about the fight. Osric wasn’t going to settle for first blood and, the truth be told, neither was he at this point. He wasn’t a bloodthirsty man by nature. He’d killed in battle before and regretted each one. For all of his skills, he wasn’t a warrior born, but right now, he needed this. If he won, he could walk away from here a whole man.

“No, I’ll not risk it. There has to be another way.” Aron rose from the bed again, fury and fear in his eyes.
“Aron.”
Aron’s head whipped around as Roman finally spoke. He rose and went over to kneel at Aron’s feet, his heart pounding so hard it ached. He grasped both of Aron’s hands, willing him to understand his plea. “Aron, please, let me do this. I need to do this.”
Aron stared down at him, then firmed his jaw, though his eyes and his voice were gentle. “No, Marcus.” He shook his head. “We leave here in less than three months’ time, darkling. I won’t risk losing you now, not to that bastard. Not to anything.”
Roman’s eyes lowered, and he released Aron’s hands, slipping his own behind his back to clasp them, nodding. “Aye.”
Master.
It was as if Aron had betrayed him all over again, and now he wished he hadn’t asked. Aron said one thing and did another. He said Roman was his equal, but he’d denied him as soon as Roman had worked up the resolve to ask. It was wrong to feel betrayed, and he shouldn’t have put Aron in the position he did. He knew better.
He wanted to slip away somewhere to be alone for a while, but he stayed where he was with his eyes fixed on the floor. He couldn’t show Aron how upset he was with his answer. Roman had hurt him so badly last time. It was much easier if he buried it down deep where it wouldn’t bother him anymore.
Aron stared down at his darkling, wanting to haul him off his knees but staying his hand. His heart ached at the way Roman’s eyes had beseeched him, and he hated to refuse him. No, it killed him to deny him anything, but this he couldn’t allow. Roman would die, Osric would settle for nothing less, and perhaps it made Aron a selfish man, but he’d rather Roman miss his opportunity for revenge and live than take it and die. He couldn’t bear it.
“Since you’re set on that, boy, there’s something else I wish to discuss with you,” Wulfgar said, interrupting Aron’s thoughts and breaking the silence.
Aron tore his gaze from Roman’s bowed head. “And that would be?” he asked, wondering what insane suggestion the thane was going to give now.
“Roman needs something to do instead of lying about all day, and this will keep him occupied and safe here in the hall.” The thane hesitated, as if he was debating with himself before he continued. “I wish for Roman to teach Gaeric his letters. It’s a skill no one else here possesses. I know not how much he can accomplish in three months’ time, but it’d be a start, and Osric will not try anything in front of my son or in the sanctity of my room.”
Aron hesitated. He had an irrational urge to tell Wulfgar to stop calling his darkling Roman, he wasn’t Roman any longer, but angering the thane further wasn’t a good idea. He looked down at Roman to see what he thought, but the slave’s head remained bowed. He reached down to urge Roman to his feet, tipping his chin up to look at him.
“Would you, darkling? It would give you something to pass the time, and I know how much you enjoy your writings.” His voice was quiet. He began to worry when Roman wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Roman’s pressed his lips together, his features tightening before he exhaled softly and nodded. “Aye, I’ll teach him.”
“Aron, you’ll study with Gaeric as well. You can use the desk in here,” Wulfgar said.
Aron stopped his examination of Roman’s face to look at the thane in surprise. “My lord?” He’d never expected Wulfgar to rescind his unspoken punishment, and he especially never imagined he’d allow him to spend the majority of his time in his darkling’s company.
Wulfgar shrugged. “You’re too intelligent to remain ignorant, boy. You aren’t going back to a crofter’s life. I know not what you’ll do with yourself, but it won’t be farming.”
Aron’s brows furrowed. Roman had said the same thing, that if he chose to pursue a different course he’d one day be something, someone. He didn’t know what, but perhaps learning the scribblings was a good idea. If nothing else, it kept him with Roman and gave him far more opportunity to keep him safe.
Aron nodded, and the look he gave Wulfgar was less hostile. “Aye, my lord. Thank you.” The words were sincere. Wulfgar had the authority and power to make their last months here a nightmare, but instead the thane was attempting to help.
“You’re welcome, boy,” Wulfgar said and then gave him a heated look, gesturing him near. “Now come, you do still have other duties.”
Aron suppressed a sigh and let go of Roman’s hand after squeezing it lightly, and he went to the thane without argument. Wulfgar might have been a skilled lover, as Roman once said, but he’d much rather be with his darkling on the pallet, even if all they got to do was hold each other. All in all, though, his bad mood had dissipated. He’d be able to spend his days in Roman’s company, and that was far more than he’d had earlier.
Roman watched Wulfgar draw Aron into his arms and kiss him, his heart a lead weight in his chest. He wondered if they realized how alike they were. Both proud and stubborn to the core, both honorable, and both so thickheaded sometimes he just itched to kick them and stalk out of the room to take care of himself.
Roman returned to his pallet, turning his back on them both. He undressed and curled himself on top of the furs, gnawing on his upper lip. Wulfgar had claimed a part of his heart, and Aron had stolen the rest along with his soul. Both had owned his body. He’d told Aron once that submitting had come naturally to him, and it was true. Yielding in bed was pleasurable with the thane and such an utter joy with Aron.
Aron had said he’d free him, and his lover was too honorable to lie outright to him. But Roman didn’t think Aron realized how strong it was in him to naturally give orders and expect people to obey. Roman wondered how long it would take after they left before Aron released him. He wouldn’t. There’d always be some excuse in his mind: to protect Roman, to salve Aron’s own need for reassurance. Whatever the excuse, whether spoken or not, it would be there.
Roman wanted give into bitter laughter, pushing it away along with the urge to cry. So what if Aron had asked his opinion about teaching them? Where had that consideration been moments before when he’d told Aron how much he needed to be allowed to fight Osric, to take back even just a bit of the manhood that had been stolen from him for the last four years?
Squaring his jaw, Roman curled his fingers into the furs. The part of himself he worked so hard to keep dormant was rearing its head. He wasn’t going to let himself be totally controlled again. Just because he was more inclined to submit didn’t mean he couldn’t think for himself, or wasn’t capable of making decisions for himself, or even that he wouldn’t want to.
It was a good while before Roman managed to calm his ire, not to mention the rising rebellion and stubborn determination to take matters into his own hands. He tried not to listen to what was going on in the bed behind him, but every pleasured moan from Aron grated along his nerves until he wanted to scream at them both to stop it and let him sleep.
He’d almost managed to drift off anyway when he heard them finish. Though the sound of Aron reaching release made his stomach clench into a painful knot, he was glad. Now they would be silent, and he could sleep.
Then, to his amazement, Aron slid off the bed and onto the pallet. Immediately, he was tugged into Aron’s arms. Angry with his lover or not, Roman couldn’t resist and turned to face him, curling tight against his body. It’d been so long since they had slept this way, and he clung to Aron as if he’d disappear.
It hurt, the way Aron had misled him, but he wasn’t really surprised by it. If Roman ever wanted to be free, it wouldn’t come from Aron. He’d have to take it on his own. And in his heart of hearts, Roman wondered if he had the strength to do so.
Aron pulled Roman closer, his worries easing when his darkling clung back just as fiercely. He had been sure Roman was angry over his decision. It was such a relief to be allowed to hold his darkling again. Aron would sleep better tonight than he had in a long time. It seemed somewhat wrong to be touching Roman, still covered in a light sheen of sweat and spent from being in Wulfgar’s bed. The situation was different now that they had admitted they loved each other, now that Roman was his, but it was something that couldn’t be helped. Roman understood and didn’t seem to mind as he held onto him.
Aron buried his hands in Roman’s long, dark hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Marcus,” he whispered. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not while I have breath in my body.” His vow was fierce, despite how quiet his voice was.
Roman nodded, laying his head on Aron’s shoulder. Aron slid his hands down his back, cradling him, Roman’s breath warm on his chest. After a few moments Roman turned his mouth to Aron’s ear. “Just hold me.”
Aron smiled, pressing a kiss to Roman’s temple. “Always, darkling. I’ll hold you forever.”
Things would be fine. Roman would be safe. They would leave in just under three months. Osric and this place would be in their past, and he’d worry about his debt to Cate later. For now, he was grateful to be holding the man he loved.