Bee Among the Clover (305 page)

A
RON scowled as he followed Cate through thscowled as he followed Cate through the streets toward the market.
It had been nearly a month, and he still couldn’t believe the situation he was in. He’d been sure Cate was his friend. She’d helped him time and again since he’d known her, and now she seemed to be another person.
Oh, she wasn’t cruel and didn’t beat him, but she treated him like a slave.
He didn’t know why that upset him, because he
was
a slave, after all.
But did she really have to make the point every chance she got? Making it
even worse was the knowledge that Marcus was back home in Rome
alone, not with Wulfgar as Aron had thought. If Aron could just get to him, he knew he could make amends somehow. He could woo him, win
him, and they could be together.
He had no way to get to him, however. He had no illusions. If he
were to try to run, Cate would find him. She had magic he didn’t
understand. She could find him wherever he went with little more than a thought. He was trapped, for however long she chose, while somewhere
Marcus lived and moved on and found someone else to love. It tore at him every waking minute.
Aron had thought the feelings would ease, but they hadn’t. If anything, they’d gotten worse, because he knew the longer he waited to find Marcus, the more likely it was it would be too late. But he still held
hope Cate would change her mind soon and release him from his oath.
That she’d prove to be the good person he’d believed she was.
He paid no attention to where they were heading, silent and sullen as
was his general demeanor of late. One errand was the same as any other.
Cate had a purpose to where she was going, probably seeking to load him down with supplies like a pack mule. It was like he’d ceased to exist except when she needed him to fulfill one chore or another. They paused
in front of a hard-looking man, and Clooking man, and Cate started to talk to him in a low
voice. Aron ignored them, looking around instead.

Pens scattered the small square on the north end of the marketplace. Inside these pens people waited, some with blank faces, some crying, and some with an air of bored indifference. Aron’s eyes widened as he realized where Cate had brought him. “Cate, what do you…?”

The man’s hand grabbed his jaw and squeezed hard enough to stop his torrent of words. Before Aron had a chance to register this new predicament, other hands were capturing his and binding them at the small of his back.

Cate ignored him, all her attention on the slave dealer. “As you can see, he hasn’t learned his place yet. Perhaps another master would do better than me. He’s a strong worker, but his attitude annoys me, and I tire of it.”

Aron’s fury erupted, followed closely by terror. How could she do this him? He’d never have a chance to see Marcus again. “Cate, please….” A grimy palm slapped over his mouth, cutting off his words again, and Aron struggled against the hands and ties holding him, shouting behind the hand, trying to get her attention. She couldn’t do this him. She wouldn’t. He’d behave better if only she’d listen.

But Cate disregarded the commotion, collecting the small bag that clinked in her hands. She turned and disappeared into the crowd without a backwards glance in his direction.

Aron fought as he was dragged toward the cages, shaking his head frantically. His eyes searched the crowd for some sign of Cate coming back. She couldn’t do this. She’d come back. What was going on?

It made no sense to his terrified mind. He was thrown into one of the cages and grunted as he hit the ground hard without his hands to balance him. Still, he scrambled awkwardly to his feet and bolted for the makeshift door, only to have it slammed shut in his face. That didn’t deter him as he threw his body against the pen itself, shouting his rage.

All that earned him was a fist through the slats that knocked him down and a throbbing temple. Climbing back to his feet, Aron glowered at the man, who gave him a cruel smile before turning and going back to his business.

Aron’s heart pounded heavy in his chest, breath rapid with shock and fear. No, gods, no, this couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t make his mind wrap around it and grasp the enormity of his situation. All he could think about, all that his mind could grasp onto, was Marcus.

He’d never see him again if he were sold like this. He’d be bought by the gods only knew who, taken who knew where, and made to do whatever they wanted. All hope of finding Marcus again, winning him and loving him, was gone, slipping through his fingers like water.

Aron’s rage left him in a rush, and he slumped to the dirt, drawing his knees up against his chest and burying his face in them. He refused to cry. He didn’t think he even had tears. He’d never been so helpless, so hopeless, in his life. Not even when he’d first come to Wulfgar had he felt this way. He was losing more than his freedom now, he was losing the vague hope which had been the only thing keeping him sane these past weeks.

Eventually, a commotion made him raise his head, and he noticed the slave master and his assistants going among the pens and examining the contents, occasionally dragging one or two of the occupants out and lining them up. Aron’s own cage opened, and he felt hands hauling him up. His tunic was torn open and he was forced to stand, his cheeks burning as he was examined. The dealer shoved him in line with the others, and he shivered in the cold air, shifting from foot to foot to try and keep warm.

Anxiety tore at him as they were led toward the block. Aron heard the roar of the crowd and had the impression of a large group of blurred faces. Guards walked down the lines wielding short whips, keeping a sharp eye on their charges. Aron watched with hopelessness as the first slave was dragged out of the line and hustled up onto the makeshift stage. The urge to bolt was almost overwhelming.

Aron’s future loomed before him, bleak and uncertain. All of the things Marcus and Wulfgar had seen in him would be for naught if he were sold again. He was unlikely to get a master as patient as the thane had been. No one else would put up with his attitude. Despair dragged at him as the line shortened. It was unreal. He was caught up in a nightmare that got worse with each passing minute.

Then he was dragged on stage, the rest of his tunic torn away as the dealer showed off his shivering body. They turned him around, and he was brought up on the block to stand. He looked around the sea of faces, desperately searching for Cate. This had to be a sick joke on her part. Gods, he’d learned his lesson.
Please, Cate, I’m sorry.
He knew she could hear him.

“Now here we have a prime specimen,” the dealer’s voice rang out over the crowd. “As you can see, he has strong shoulders and experience working in both croft and hall. He has a strong back and body.” The list went on as the dealer worked up the crowd. “He’s in need of taming, but nothing that a firm hand will not cure. He’s also been taught how to please in bed by his former Master. Let’s start the bidding….”

It was so surreal, a bad dream he wished he could awaken from. Aron flinched as the trader urged him this way and that, stumbling and snarling in impotent anger. He wanted to kick and claw and run, but he knew it was pointless. He didn’t try to hide his hateful glares, though, and couldn’t help jerking away, almost overbalancing himself, when the trader’s dirty hand grabbed his cock through his trews.

The bidding was fierce, and Aron felt dizzy with caged fear and disbelief. After an eternity, it came down to two bidders, the price rising with each bid. Aron stared between the two, trembling and trying to decide which one looked less dangerous, less cruel. Not that it mattered. He swallowed down the nausea in his throat as the bidding slowed and it seemed the large, dark-haired man, who looked like he was of some importance, was going to win.

Just as the trader was about to declare the sale, however, another voice rang out, raising the price again. Aron’s eyes flew through the crowd to seek this new bidder out and fell on a slim young man sitting on his horse at the edge of the throng. He was leaning over, speaking with another beside him, and Aron couldn’t make out his face. Something niggled at him, however, and he narrowed his eyes, watching.

Then wide, dark eyes he’d have known anywhere lifted and met his across the crowd of people, and Aron felt faint, swaying in disbelief as a rush of tears pricked his eyes. He shook his head, blinking to clear his vision. It couldn’t be. He was in Rome.

M
ARCUS tamped down the fury he felt at seeing Aron up on the block. For a moment, recklessness seized him, and he almost ordered his guard forward to take him down. But considering who else was bidding, that would cause more trouble than either of them needed. So he bid instead, his heart racing in his chest.
Oh, sweet Jesu, Aron.

“My lord, if you need a slave boy, I can procure you a better one at a cheaper rate. This…” his steward began.
Marcus cut him off. “Whatever it takes. Do you understand me?” His voice was fierce as he met his steward’s eyes. “However much it costs, I am winning this bid.” He didn’t wait for an answer, lifting his eyes to meet Aron’s.
He wanted to cry at the sight of Aron up there. He shouldn’t be subjected to this indignity. At the same time, he rejoiced, because he was going to have a chance to apologize to him, to let Aron know what a damned fool he’d been. Maybe there was a chance Aron would forgive him. In the end, however, it didn’t matter if Aron hated him until the day he died; when he stepped down from the block, it would be as a free man. The oath Aron had made in sacrifice for him would be valid no more.
Marcus tore his eyes away long enough to glance at the other bidder and nodded. Whatever it took, he wasn’t letting Aron fall into his hands or anyone else’s for that matter. A sense of calm enveloped him; he tuned out the rest of the crowd, focusing entirely on Aron and the counsel opposing him, raising each bid as it came.
The dealer’s eyes lit up with greed, and the crowd fell silent as they watched the two rival bidders, unable to believe they were willing to go so high for a single slave. The steward looked down at his books and frowned.
Aron’s head spun, and he was unable to tear his eyes from Marcus. It really was him, though with his hair cropped short and his fine clothes Aron hadn’t recognized him at first. His heart did, though. It cried out to him, and it took every bit of Aron’s willpower not to leap down from the block and prostrate himself before him. He wanted to beg Marcus to love him again, by the gods, he’d do anything he asked.
As the price kept rising, Aron began to worry. How would Marcus pay such an amount? He’d left Wulfgar’s with nothing. Then, as quickly as the worry came to him, the bidding stopped. The other man conceded with a shake of his head, and the slave trader announced Marcus as his new owner.
Owner. Gods, he’d take it. If it meant being with Marcus again, he’d take it, stay with him as his slave and be grateful for it. The past many weeks without him had shown Aron clearly that he’d do anything, be anything, and go anywhere if it meant he could be near Marcus.
Aron drew a trembling breath, cutting a glare at the trader before he was led off the block. His eyes were locked to Marcus’s as he was brought forward, and when finally he was standing in front of him, it was all Aron could do not to make a fool of himself and burst into tears. Marcus was so beautiful, so familiar and beloved, and he’d been sure he’d never see him again.
Suddenly, Aron remembered himself and sank to his knees, awkward with his hands still bound behind his back. His head lowered. “I’m yours, darkling.” Had been from the moment he’d laid eyes on this mysterious, enigmatic young man, truth be told.
Marcus was off his horse in a flash, helping Aron to rise and cutting the ties behind his back. “Don’t ever kneel to me, Aron. You’re no slave.” The emotions tangling in him made his voice harsher than he’d intended.
He threw his arms around Aron’s neck, drawing him close, his relief and joy at seeing him cutting through his normal reticence. He felt Aron’s arms come around him as well, and his breath caught in his throat. “I am the biggest fool that ever lived, Aron.”
Marcus pulled back enough to see Aron’s face, his hands coming up to frame it, blinking back tears. “I’m so sorry, Aron. Can you forgive me for running? Jesu, why didn’t you tell me?” His words tumbled over themselves, he was speaking so fast. A part of him was aware of the spectacle they were making, but he cared not.
“Do you love me, Marcus?” His voice was forlorn. “Tell me what I have to do, darkling, please. I want to be with you.”
“Sweet Jesu, Aron.” Marcus wanted to sink to his knees, but he steadied himself and met Aron’s eyes. “I love you more than I can ever express.” Shame flamed his cheeks. “I was wrong to leave you. If I’d trusted my heart more, trusted you more….” He looked down. “I’m so sorry, Aron. I’ll never be able to make it up to you.” His thumbs caressed Aron’s cheeks, and he struggled for a way to explain it to him.
Aron came up to cup his face, and Marcus choked back a sob, meeting his beautiful blue eyes. “We need to talk, darkling, but gods, not here. Not like this.” He looked around, arms coming around Marcus again and holding him close as if afraid he would disappear again. “Is there someplace we can go? To be alone?”
Marcus nodded and gestured to his horse. “Aye, my family’s villa.” He flashed Aron a weak grin. “If I still own it after this, that is.” He didn’t care. He would rather be homeless and penniless than be without Aron, than see Aron in the hands of another.
He swung up onto his horse when Aron eased his grip, and seconds later Aron was mounted behind him. Marcus couldn’t help the flash of remembrance of the night of the Wild Hunt, pressed close to Aron, unsure but so hopeful at the same time.
He twisted his head around and looked at Aron, a fluttering in his stomach. He did belong to Aron, in every way it was possible to belong to someone, but he saw now that Aron also belonged to him. Not an ownership, but perhaps a partnership. Jesu, he hoped so. They’d been given this startling chance where before there’d been no chance at all, and he wouldn’t squander it.
Aron’s arms came around him, holding him close. He took off his cloak and handed it to Aron, who wrapped it around them both without a word as they set out of the city, the guards surrounding them. Out of the corner of his eye, Roman thought he saw a woman with vivid red hair. When he turned to look, nothing remained but an impression of iridescent wings that disappeared between one heartbeat and the next. The strange upheaval and violent emotions of the day must be getting to him.
They rode out in silence toward the villa, Aron taking time to gather his thoughts and to rejoice in being in his darkling’s presence again. His mind spun. His darkling didn’t love Wulfgar, he hadn’t gone to Rome.
As soon as they reached the villa, Marcus gave orders for them not to be disturbed. Aron slid off the horse, helping him down, and Marcus took his hand. Aron paid no attention to where they were headed, only that he was with Marcus. His heart pounded as Marcus shut a door and turned to face Aron.
Aron didn’t even register the unfamiliar surroundings; his concentration was caught up in the dark young man who faced him with a tumult of emotions written on his face. He reached out and took his darkling’s hand, drawing him into his embrace, his heart skipping a beat as Marcus didn’t hesitate but came to him and laid his head on his shoulders, his arms stealing around his waist.
For a long time they didn’t speak, just held each other with their eyes closed, as if they were afraid that when they opened them again, the other would’ve disappeared like a will-o-the-wisp. Finally, Aron sighed. “We need to talk, darkling.”
Marcus nodded, a soft smile curving his lips that melted Aron’s heart. “Aye, we do. Something we should’ve done long ago. I love you. I know you have every reason to doubt after what I did, but it is the truth. I was… I was afraid, simply put. When you didn’t free me when we left Wulfgar’s, I was afraid you meant to keep me as a slave, and I couldn’t live that way anymore. You changed me, Aron, whether it was your intent or not.”
Aron wanted to break in, make Marcus understand, but he forced himself to remain silent. He needed to hear his darkling’s thoughts or something like this could happen again, and neither of them would survive it if it did.
Marcus saw the protest in Aron’s eyes and shook his head. “I know now how wrong I was. You didn’t say the words because you had freed me already by taking me with you. I know that now, but at the time, I didn’t. All I could see was my own fears and insecurities, and they made me run. I wanted to come back, to search you out and beg you to take me back even if it was as your slave. I missed you so much, Aron.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I’m sorry.”
Aron shook his head and gathered him closer, the tender kiss he placed on Marcus’s temple doing much to ease the former slave’s fears. “I should’ve known you needed the words, darkling. In my own joy to be free, it never occurred to me that you needed something more. I should’ve seen it.”
Marcus savored Aron’s lips against his skin. “I’ve spent too much time hiding how I was feeling, Aron. I had years of practice.” He tipped his head back and looked up at Aron with unblinking eyes. “But I don’t want to hide from you anymore. I know I don’t have to. You would have as much care for me as I would with you.”
He thought back on all of Aron’s actions, even the ones that he’d railed against, and knew they’d all been done out of concern for him. They needed to learn to work together, to communicate better with each other.
“I would, darkling,” Aron murmured huskily. “I do. I love you, Marcus, the gods know I do.” Aron took a deep breath, and a tug of tenderness pulled at Marcus, the vulnerability in his lover’s eyes heartbreaking. “Does this mean that when you go to Rome you’ll take me with you?”
Marcus choked back a sob, and the tears finally spilled from his eyes, but he was smiling as he did so. “Aron. Sweet Jesu, Aron, I couldn’t bear to be parted from you again. Aye, you will go with me to Rome. I’ll be by your side until I draw my last breath.” He took a deep breath. “Your friend Cate came to visit me today.”
Aron scoffed at the mention of her name. “She’s no friend.
She
is why I was up on that block in the first place. She put me there.”
Marcus thought about the situation. The timing didn’t make sense; how could Cate have put Aron on the block and still been there during his ride to tell him where to find Aron? It made his head ache to think of it. Cate had said she was something else, and he didn’t think he cared to know what that something was.
“She came to visit me and told me where I could find you. She told me what you did when I was ill, Aron.” His voice trembled, and the enormity of Aron’s sacrifice humbled him yet again. “Why didn’t you tell me? I doubted your honor and your integrity, and all along you were silent, when telling me is all you would have had to do to ensure my eternal loyalty to you. Why didn’t you?”
Aron’s smile was sad. “I suppose because I wanted your loyalty without strings attached. I didn’t want to manipulate you into staying with me, and had I told you about my bargain with Cate, even if you’d wanted to stay with Wulfgar or go back to Rome, you wouldn’t have. You would’ve felt you owed it to me to stay, and I don’t want you out of gratitude, darkling. I want you out of love.”
Marcus flung his arms around Aron’s neck blinking back the tears. His voice was rough with emotion. “You have me, you have that, Aron, I swear to you.” He lifted his head to look up at him. “It’ll always be you. I promise you.”
“You weren’t the only one to doubt, darkling.” Aron closed his eyes as he held Marcus close. It hurt to think that Marcus had doubted his promises and who he was, but hadn’t he done the same to Marcus? If they’d just believed each other from the beginning, none of this would’ve happened.
“I was just waiting for you to go back, to choose Wulfgar over me. When you fought Osric, I thought you didn’t love me. I was terrified you were going to die and leave me alone, and you didn’t seem to care about that.” Aron drew back to meet Marcus’s eyes again. “Another reason why I didn’t tell you about Cate was because I was afraid. What if you hadn’t wanted to stay with me, or wait for me? It was driving me mad.” Aron flushed, hating his reasoning once it was spoken out loud. “We’re both a pair of fools, darkling.”
“Aye, we are,” Marcus agreed. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care, Aron. I knew you would be frantic, and I hated to put you through it. But I had to do it, for myself and to ensure our safety. If something had happened to you because….”
Aron considered that. Hadn’t he encouraged Marcus to think for himself? To remember what it was like to be free? He hadn’t understood how Marcus had needed to take back what Osric had stolen from him: his pride as a man. Now, when it wasn’t so fresh, Aron could understand, and he knew he’d erred in his judgment of Marcus’s actions that day.
Marcus looked up at him, and there was an understanding in his dark eyes as well, as if he’d had the answers to every question laid out for him. “That day when you said I could remain Wulfgar’s slave when you left. You were giving me a choice, weren’t you?”
Aron didn’t answer, but Marcus must have seen the answer in his eyes, because his face fell and flushed with shame. Aron hated the regret in Marcus’s eyes, his own damp with the force of the emotions running through him. Gods, they’d misunderstood each other so much, so much time wasted and so much hurt that could’ve been avoided, had they not been so wrapped up in assuming they knew what the other was thinking.
His voice was determined when he spoke. “We won’t do this anymore, Marcus. We love each other, and that’s more powerful than anything I’ve ever known, but we don’t understand each other, and that, my love, is going to change.”
He smiled softly and leaned in to brush his lips against Marcus’s. It was like a spark to tinder inside him, the brief brushing of lips against lips, and it took all his willpower to pull away from it after a moment. “We’ll learn, I promise you, but I must ask a promise in return.”
Aron swallowed hard and met Marcus’s gaze. “Promise me you’ll not leave me. Ever, darkling. If I hurt you, tell me and I’ll make it right however I can. If you’re afraid or confused, tell me and I’ll do everything in my power to make you understand. Can you do that for me?” He held his breath, praying Marcus could, praying this really could work between them.
Marcus gave a soft sobbing laugh, nodding and wiping his fingers at his wet cheeks as the tears spilled. “Promise me the same, that we’ll talk instead of concluding wrongly.”
Aron grabbed Marcus around the waist and pulled him close. “Aye, darkling, I promise. I never want to lose you again. I did so twice this year, once because I ran and once because you did.” And twice he’d been terrified that Marcus was going to die and leave him.
Marcus twined his hands deep in Aron’s hair, smiling through the tears on his face. “I’ll talk with you, Aron, my love. I’m so weary of assuming and the pain it causes, and Jesu help me, I’ll never leave you again of my own volition. I couldn’t, I give you my oath on that.” It’d almost taken him more than he had last time. He couldn’t ever do it again.