Bee Among the Clover (282 page)

F
OR something that had been an entire year coming, the leavesomething that had been an entire year coming, the leave-taking
occurred without much ado. Wulfgar gave them the horses, but he didn’t
accompany them out to the gate. He’d gruffly insisted he had better things
to do and waved them off. Even Aron had to smile at that and had drawn up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, Roman doing the same on the other cheek.
And then, just like that, they were gone. They rode in silence for a
while, until the mead hall was a good ways behind them. Then Aron suddenly drew his horse to a halt, reaching out to catch Roman’s reins.
Roman’s breath caught, his heart pounding. This was it, he was sure
of it. Aron had waited until they were out of sight or reach of the hall,
firmly on neutral territory, and now he was going to free him.
There was a strange sensation in his chest as Aron swung down off
his horse and urged Roman down as well. He wasn’t sure how he felt— afraid, exhilarated, and breathless with anticipation. He met Aron’s eyes,
and the light in their clear, blue depths warmed his heart. Love for him surged through him, and the depth of it didn’t scare him in the slightest.
Roman was unable to help smiling at Aron, and the smile he got in return was brilliant.
“I cannot believe it, Marcus,” Aron laughed, wrapping his arms around Roman and swinging him around in an impromptu dance. “I love you, darkling,” Aron said as they stumbled to a stop to catch their breath
and drew Roman closer.
“And I love you, Aron,” Roman returned, bringing up his hand to curl around the nape of Aron’s neck. Aron’s joy was infectious. He was like a boy, mad with his first vision of the larger world around him. He
lifted his lips as Aron’s mouth came down and kissed him back with sweet
promise. His heart pounded harder and faster with each passing moment. Soon, Jesu, soon, Aron was going to say the words he’d longed to hear for four years. The words Wulfgar had given Aron this morning that the thane
had never gifted him with.
Aron drew back from the kiss, cupping Roman’s cheek and smiling down at him. Then he glanced at the horses, his smile widening. “Help me pack everything onto your horse, darkling, ride with me.”
Roman blinked as Aron released him and began transferring his supplies and belongings, meager as they were, from Aron’s horse onto Roman’s. He pushed down the disappointment. It was a lovely idea, the two of them sharing a horse. He liked the thought of traveling so close against his lover. Aron would say the words soon, surely he would, he thought, trying to ignore the niggling voice in the back of his head.
Once they had everything transferred, Aron swung back up onto the horse, reaching down to help Roman up as well, settling him in front of him and leaning in to nuzzle at the nape of his neck, sighing happily. They were free finally. Roman didn’t have to worry about anyone ordering his life around, keeping him away from his family or forcing him to do things against his nature. And he didn’t have to watch anyone abusing him any longer. They were free to take care of each other. The light he’d seen in Roman’s eyes made him giddy. Roman was with him, and he hadn’t chosen to stay behind. That meant more to him than words could say.
It would take a good while to reach Londinium, and sometime between here and there, he would talk with Roman about the situation with Cate. For now, he was far too euphoric to worry about that conversation.
As they resumed their journey, Aron held him and talked nearly nonstop, smiling at how quiet Roman was and how his darkling let him chatter on, only occasionally responding. The day was beautiful, the sky that deep, intense blue that only came in the fall. Aron’s happiness knew no end, and he shared it with his darkling by kissing him on the neck and hugging Roman to him.
Roman tried not to count every hour that passed, waiting for Aron to say the words. He’d spent four years as a slave. What were a few hours more in the scheme of things? He kept telling himself Aron was waiting until they camped for the night. It was a momentous thing, Roman regaining his freedom; perhaps Aron wanted the moment to be special for him. He smiled at that thought. Yes, that was what it was, and as much as Roman craved the words, he could wait.
He chided himself for being so stupid and for doubting Aron again so soon after the former thrall had proven himself. Of course Aron was going to free him. They were heading due southwest toward Romanoccupied territory and not toward Aron’s croft. Not that he’d ever really thought Aron would go home and live under his father’s thumb. He wasn’t going to make himself ill worrying about what Aron was going to do. Roman had already done that on the night Aron claimed him from Wulfgar and had ruined what Aron had meant as a beautiful gesture. Aron was too excited about his newfound freedom for him to ruin the day with his selfishness.
Aron’s closeness sent ripples of awareness through him. He was helpless, caught completely in the younger man’s spell. Roman laced his fingers with Aron’s, which were pressed against his stomach. He loved Aron. He should trust that instinct.
The sun began to sink over the horizon, and Aron was more than eager to take the opportunity to stop for the night. How he longed to make love to Roman beside a fire under the stars, the both of them free as they’d never been before, free to love without a single thought of anyone but each other.
Finding a likely spot, Aron swung down off the horse, reaching up to lift Roman down as well, unable to resist leaning in and kissing him deeply. The sweet taste of him was intoxicating, as was the feel of him, supple in his arms. By the gods, he loved him so much he ached with it.
Breaking the kiss, he smiled down at him. “Come, darkling, we’ll build a fire and eat, and you can tell me more about your Rome.” He was curious about it. Once he finished his service with Cate, Roman would probably want to return there. He had told him many tales, and Aron never tired of listening to his darkling speak. He flashed Roman a mischievous grin as he began untying the straps on the pack horse. “And afterwards, I have something for you.”
Roman returned Aron’s smile, joy lighting up his dark eyes. “Well then, I’d better hurry up and gather some wood.” Roman paused, then wrapped his hand around the nape of Aron’s neck, tugging him down for a brief, heated kiss.
Aron watched Roman dart off, as full of energy as Aron had been all day. Aron collected the supplies Wulfgar had provided them and laid out their sleeping rolls while Roman started a merry fire. They made a meal of dried meat and hot pottage, and under Aron’s prodding, Roman started talking of his home. The more he spoke of it, the more excited he became. Aron smiled at the animated way Roman waved his hands when he got to a certain subject or a place Aron decided must be special to him.
He could hardly believe it was real, sitting here, miles from Wulfgar’s hall, just he and Roman, never having to return, not worrying about being chased down and dragged into captivity. They had the entire world at their fingertips, and Aron could hardly wait to see it. Then he remembered it wasn’t going to happen, not yet. He had to believe Cate wouldn’t keep him for long, though, and while he knew he had to tell Roman about that situation soon, he was going to savor the time they had together for a bit first.
That thought in mind, as soon as they finished eating, Aron rose, smiling impishly down at Roman before reaching down to rummage through their belongings. He retrieved the bundle he’d hidden away and sat down beside Roman, holding it out to him. “Here, darkling, I thought you’d like them.” He couldn’t hide his excitement. He had been anticipating this moment for a long time now.
Roman looked at Aron in confusion before reaching out his hand to take the heavy, fabric-wrapped bundle from him. He unwrapped it and gasped, his face turning white. The firelight gleamed off a leather-bound book, ragged pages sticking out where it couldn’t be trimmed. Roman let out a choked sob, trembling fingers caressing the cover before he opened it to reveal the tattered remnants of his journal. He looked up at Aron, his throat working, dark eyes huge in his face.
“After you fell asleep that day, I went back and looked for every page I could find,” Aron said in response to Roman’s unspoken question. The joy and vulnerability in his darkling’s eyes made Aron’s chest ache. “I’m sorry there weren’t more.” And a good many of the ones he’d found had been the worse for wear. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and gave Roman a smile. “Brandr helped me cobble the pages together.” For some reason the expression on Roman’s face made him want to babble like an idiot.
“Thank you, Aron,” Roman finally said, his voice hoarse; then he smiled suddenly. “I love you, Jesu, Aron.” He wrapped his arms around Aron’s neck and curled into him, kissing him passionately.
Aron’s heart quickened at the pure joy on Roman’s face and the way he initiated their embrace. This was his Marcus, the man he’d caught glimpses of on those rare, special times when his guard had been down. Roman’s journal wasn’t in the condition it should be in, but Aron rejoiced because he put that smile on his darkling’s face.
Aron held Roman close against him, kissing him back until they had to break apart for air. He smiled down at him, brushing his fingers across Roman’s cheek and back into his silky dark waves of his hair. His voice was soft, rough with emotion and a sort of need that came from deep within his very soul. Not the physical sort of need, but an emotional, mental need, the kind of need that from the beginning had told him Roman was different, Roman was special. Because no one had ever made him feel these things before, and he knew never would again.
“May I make love to you, darkling? Here, by the fire, where it’s just you and I and nothing between us now or ever again?” He had to ask, wanting Roman to give his consent. He knew how very rare it had been in the last four years for anyone to ask his darkling’s permission for anything.
Roman drew his upper lip into his mouth. For a second, impatience impinged on his pleasure. What was Aron waiting for? Why didn’t he free him now? But he couldn’t doubt him now, not when Aron had given him such a gift. The sweetness of his gift and what it implied pierced through him. Roman was wrong to doubt him. Aron was by far the most considerate person he’d ever encountered. The young man hid it often under a brash and arrogant exterior, but Aron had a loving heart that surprised him with how deep it went. Aron was looking at him with those beautiful blue eyes and smiling at him, and Roman could no sooner say no to him than he could tell himself not to breathe. After, he told himself, surely after they made love and were holding each other in front of the fire, Aron would free him.
Roman nodded and shifted in Aron’s lap to straddle his thighs, cupping his beloved face in his hands. “Aye, make love to me, Aron.” Then he leaned in and captured Aron’s soft lips, tasting the fire that always simmered just beneath the surface and never failed to ignite a similar fire inside himself, and while doing so poured out all of the emotions he usually kept locked deep inside.
Aron’s arms tightened around him, pulling him deeper into the embrace before the former thrall pulled away and laid him down on the blankets. Roman forced his lingering worry away. This was Aron, and it was the first night of his lover’s freedom, something he’d been waiting for since the day Wulfgar had claimed him. Roman couldn’t blame him for his single-mindedness. Aron was over-excited with his independence. Roman would probably have reacted the same way in Aron’s situation. Aron would tell him, he’d promised.
Roman drew Aron down on top of him, concentrating on the pleasure Aron gave him. The kind of pleasure he only knew when he ceased thinking so much and allowed Aron to love him. That was his problem, letting his mind rule his heart. As Aron’s familiar weight settled on top of him, Roman groaned in anticipation, in relief. Aron’s body against his had always been a comfort, even when he hadn’t recognized it as such.
“You make me feel things I never would have understood otherwise. I never would have realized them,” Roman whispered, sliding his palms down Aron’s back, frustrated to feel fabric instead of bare, heated skin.
“As do you, darkling,” Aron replied, dipping his head to draw Roman’s upper lip into his mouth, sucking on it.
Aron released Roman’s lip with a smile, sitting up on his knees in order to draw his own tunic off over his head, reaching down to do the same for Roman. For a moment simply looking down at him, breath caught in his throat.
He’d never known a man as beautiful as this one, nor a woman for that matter. His darkling was as flawless as any rare jewel, and Aron wanted to treasure him at the same time that he wanted to devour him. Roman raised a multitude of emotions in him, but right now, the most pressing were love and need. The need to claim him this first time as free men.
That thought in mind, he lowered back over Roman, mouth coming down on his slender chest, open and hot, the flesh warm and smooth, and the way Roman arched and responded was the most breathtaking thing Aron had ever known.
“I love you, darkling. Let me show you how much.”
Roman caught Aron’s face between his hands. “I love you, too, Aron Sverrison. I love you with everything in me,” he said, his voice fervent. “Don’t ever forget that.” He kissed Aron deeply, moaning into his mouth.
Aron held him close, savoring the kiss, breathless with the depth of emotion in it, in Roman. Finally, he broke the kiss and smiled down at him. “I could never doubt, Marcus, not now.” Not when Roman had come with him. He could’ve chosen to stay, but his darkling hadn’t. He was here, with him, loving him. Aron no more doubted Roman’s feelings than he doubted the sky was blue.
Aron shifted over him, stretching out and propping himself on one elbow, the other hand slipping down Roman’s arm, his chest, along the sleek curve of his side. He had such beautiful skin, warm and like the finest silk to his touch.
“My darkling, I’ll never let you go, Marcus, I promise you.” Aron dropped his mouth to Roman’s neck as his fingers plucked at the laces of Roman’s trews. Then they slipped inside to cup and grasp his cock with a gentle touch.
Roman sucked in a breath as Aron vowed he’d never let him go, worry and fear seizing him. Though Wulfgar had never claimed to love him, intimacy had always been his way of showing his affection as well. If Aron sought to show him just how much he cherished him, he’d free him. Was the journal a way of placating him, as Wulfgar’s own gifts had been? Doubts clouded his mind. Why was Aron waiting? Was he afraid Roman would leave him if he had a choice?