Bee Among the Clover (124 page)

“And you’re as fussy as any woman,” Wulfgar said, chuckling. “You still have some time, but get yourselves cleaned up, pull out the new tunics that I had made for you and something to eat. You’ll both be joining me in the hall after the feast for this evening’s entertainment.”
They both nodded their agreement, and Wulfgar smiled before dropping a kiss on both their lips. He was apparently in far too good of a mood to pretend to be gruff for now, and Roman could tell even Aron didn’t mind the display of affection.
Drawing back with an affectionate slap on the flank for each of them, he was gone, reminding them he would be back to collect them after the feast.
Peering out of the tent flap, Aron was glad to see it wasn’t fully dark yet. The sun was sinking and the shadows were growing long, but they probably had another couple of hours before nightfall. He grinned widely and spun on his heel to face Roman.
“Come, darkling. We have exploring to do!”
Roman frowned, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t. Wulfgar said….”
Aron gave an impatient snort. “Wulfgar
said
for us to be back by dark. It isn’t dark. Come, we can find something to eat, we won’t go far.”
The slave shook his head, and Aron sighed. “Go without me. I wish to write some.”
“Bother that,” Aron said, his eyes narrowing. “You can play with your books anytime.” He didn’t understand Roman’s unending fascination with scratches on paper. He wanted his darkling’s company, and not just because Roman would be able to tell him things that were going on beyond what he could observe himself.
Roman drew his upper lip into his mouth, a tell-tale sign that he was worrying or thinking overmuch. Aron’s mind raced as he tried to think of something that would convince Roman to come with him. He didn’t want to order him to do it. “I would probably find trouble if you weren’t there to keep me out of it,” Aron said, eyes wide and feigning his best innocent look.
Roman likely recognized that for the ploy it was, but it didn’t matter, because he nodded. “Aye, you would.”
Aron beamed and grabbed their cloaks, tossing Roman’s to him. They had several hours to explore, and maybe he would be able to coax a smile from Roman during that time or figure out what he had done to anger him.
D
ESPITE Roman’s misgivings, nothing untoward occurred on their small outing. Now, well past nightfall and back in Wulfgar’s tent, it seemed Aron couldn’t help poking him.
“Tell me you had no fun this eve, darkling. You lie if you do.” An irrepressible grin was on his face as he lay on his stomach on the furs, Roman seated across the tent with his journal.
Roman cut Aron a look out of the corner of his eye, pursing his lips and shaking his head at him. “Only you would consider wandering aimlessly, surrounded by a horde of half-inebriated battle-lords telling tall tales likely more fiction than fact, fun.” In truth, his nerves had been on edge the entire time. All it would have taken was one warrior deciding he cared not whom they belonged to, and he and Aron would have been in trouble.
As it was, he was glad to be back in the tent and intended to stay there as much as possible, hoping against hope that Aron’s curiosity was sated about their new surroundings, but he also knew perfectly well it was a fanciful idea and Aron would continue to insist Roman join him on his excursions. He did not think Aron truly realized his own vulnerabilities regarding his new position, at least not where it concerned anyone but Wulfgar. Or perhaps he deliberately chose not to acknowledge such things.
Roman decided to hedge. Maybe Aron would be satisfied with that. “I enjoyed your interest in the goings on.” That, at least, was true. Aron threw all of his emotion into everything he did. It must be an exhausting way to live. He set the book aside and stepped outside long enough to gather a basin of snow, returning and placing it over the brazier. “We should probably wash up. Wulfgar will be returning for us soon.” There wasn’t time or room for a full bath, but they could make do.
Aron’s eyes lit up at the idea, and Roman bit back a groan. He took entirely too much pleasure in situations that made Roman uncomfortable. “I’ll wash your back for you,” he said, cocking his head in Roman’s direction.
“That won’t be necessary,” Roman murmured, pulling out the new trews and tunics that Wulfgar had provided. Aron’s was a dark blue, the color of deep twilight, and would look good with his coloring and eyes. They were made of a soft wool that would caress their skin. Wulfgar really did want to display them at their best, Roman thought as he removed gold woven belts and new collars for the both of them that had been hidden in a chest near the head of the makeshift bed.
When Aron approached, tugging off his tunic on the way and stopping in front of Roman, he stiffened, taking a step back when Aron reached for him.
“I’m not going to hurt you, darkling. But we’re going to the king’s hall. We should probably be clean all over. To make a good impression. Pungent slaves are hardly impressive, are they?”
Roman gave him a quelling look, but Aron just grinned in that irrepressible way of his, and Roman found it impossible to be wary of him when he smiled like that.
Aron sighed impatiently, and Roman gasped when his hands were swept aside and his tunic removed as well. “I’ll be good. Besides, if I’m not, you can return the torment when you wash my back.”
Roman chewed on his upper lip and remained still, although he held himself stiffly as Aron continued to undress him, peeling off his leggings and boots, eyelashes fluttering slightly at the proximity of Aron’s mouth where he knelt in front of him.
Oh, this was a very bad idea. His eyes flicked to the tent flap, expecting at any moment for Wulfgar to come through and find them in a very compromising position.
Maybe the thane wouldn’t be suspicious. After all, Wulfgar had them bathe each other on occasion, but not since what had happened in the cave. With that enormous transgression weighing on his mind, Roman wasn’t sure that he could keep his face from betraying his guilt if Wulfgar did walk in, not to mention he did not trust Aron. He’d learned that Aron would press every advantage he could get.
“You hurting me doesn’t worry me overmuch. You getting carried away does.” He flushed as he realized that with the lamps lit, their shadows were probably silhouetted on the canvas walls.
Aron kept his promise, divesting Roman of his clothes without dallying, much as he would have liked to take his time. Besides, he would be able to touch Roman more intimately as he washed him. A smile came to his face as he remembered how their situations had been reversed the first time Roman had attended to him. He’d been furious, and terrified as well, he could admit to himself. “Trust me, darkling,” he said, seeing how worried Roman was. He did not like seeing the slave afraid of him, afraid of his own feelings. “What was it you said to me my first night?”
“I remember not.” Roman met Aron’s eyes, awareness passing between them.
“It isn’t as bad as all that. That’s what you said, I believe.” Aron’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
Not as bad as all that, Roman thought. He didn’t know what he was talking about. But then, Roman couldn’t really expect him to, didn’t know why he’d thought Aron would be different in the first place. Aron wasn’t a slave; he was a brash boy who would go home when his year was done and probably never think about this period of his life again. What Aron did now had very little consequences on his life, while Roman would be the one left to continue to live as a slave, to try and rebuild the walls that Aron so casually sought to strip from him.
Aron dipped a cloth into the warm basin of water as he rose to his feet, scooping out a bit of soft soap from the container beside them and bringing it to Roman’s chest, moving in slow circles.
Roman tried very hard to remain aloof, cursing his body and his training because he couldn’t stop the innate reactions to his touch. Aron slid the wet cloth over his chest, brushing his nipples, and Roman’s cock twitched hard, reddening when Aron’s startling blue eyes flicked down and then darkened. When would the boy get it through his head that a physical reaction from a properly trained bed slave meant next to nothing?
Aron knew that Roman wasn’t as immune to him as he tried to pretend. Slowly, he rubbed the cloth in circles on the slave’s skin, bringing it down to his abdomen. Roman was smaller than he was, and there was a hint of soft over his muscles. One would be unaware of his strength and quickness unless he had fought him. Aron tried to keep his touch nonthreatening. He would keep his word no matter how tempting Roman was to him.
Aron dipped the cloth into the warm water again, rinsing off the soap, feeling how Roman watched his every movement with his dark eyes. They were going to need to find some time to be alone together on this trip. It was strange: he spent so much time in his darkling’s company, and yet he missed him.
Aron looked up at him and smiled as he noticed the tension draining from his body. Aron gently turned Roman away from him, eyes moving over him as he began washing his back. He was such a beautiful creature, his darkling. There was a fragile air about him, in his delicate boning and flawless golden skin, his body all lean curves and subtle angles. Aron slid the cloth down the length of Roman’s spine and over the tight curve of his buttocks. It was amazing, the changes that had been wrought in Aron since he’d come to Wulfgar’s household. Before, he never would have noticed, but now he salivated at the sight of those buttocks, the shadowed cleft, the perfect way he knew it fit in his hands, the exquisite pleasure that was being buried inside him.
Aron finished with regretful sigh, setting the cloth in the basin and rising up onto his knees behind Roman, unable to resist pressing a light kiss to the small of his back before standing and turning him back around with a smile. “My turn.”
Roman turned and retrieved the cloth, his thoughts troubled. Aron made him want things he couldn’t have, and what was worse, Aron didn’t seem to realize it at all. As he began to wash Aron’s chest, he tried to slip into the mindset he’d had the first night. This was just another one of his tasks that required no thinking or emotion… but it was impossible to make himself believe it now. There was a subtle challenge in Aron’s clear, blueeyed gaze that he just wasn’t equal to meeting.
So he kept his eyes lowered, still feeling the impression of Aron’s lips on the small of his back, and if his touch lingered a little longer than was necessary, he chose to ignore it. It scared Roman, how easy it was to forget that they weren’t performing this service for each other. They were preparing each other for the thane. Aron belonged to Wulfgar. He belonged to Wulfgar. It was as simple as that. Maybe if… no, there was no room in his life for maybes. He’d go mad if he went down that path.
Roman said nothing as he continued his job. The thought had crossed his mind several times that he might be able to use his influence, small as it was, to persuade Wulfgar to send Aron away. Of course, that had been earlier on. He knew good and well that now that no matter how indulgent his mood, the thane would never willingly give Aron up. Perhaps before it might have worked, but it was too late now.
Finishing up as quickly as possible, Roman set aside the cloth and moved to turn away, only to feel Aron’s hand close around his upper arm, his eyes lifting to find those expressive eyes confused and filled with doubts.
Aron studied Roman, fascinated by the emotions flickering over Roman’s face. He’d been watching that mask that Roman had in place for the last week and had almost forgotten how expressive his features could be. There was an air of sadness about him that made his chest ache.
Roman was a paradox. He gave off the impression most of the time of a man perfectly satisfied with his lot in life, content to please and serve and be grateful for whatever small things he got in return. But Aron caught glimpses, little nuances, that told him his darkling was far from happy. Had happy moments, yes, but happy, no. And that ate at Aron, made him want to do any and everything to put a smile on Roman’s face, to see his dark eyes lit up with joy. He had never seen that particular expression on the slave’s face, and he wished he could be the one to put it there.
“Dar… Roman….” He didn’t know what he was trying to say, he didn’t know why there was this huge wall between them, and he didn’t know why he got the feeling that Roman didn’t like him very much. Even worse, he didn’t know why he cared.
“What do you want from me?” Roman’s voice was weary and anguished and made guilt tear at Aron’s heart.
Aron didn’t have to think about the answer to the question, however. Quite simply, he wanted Roman. He wanted everything that Roman kept locked inside of him. He wanted what Roman chose to share with no one, not even Wulfgar, but he knew how impossible that want was. Roman was not going to budge from the comfortable niche he’d carved for himself. Roman’s eyes flickered, and he gave him a brief, ironic smile before turning away again to pick up his own dark gray tunic.
“I want to go back to the way things were, when you talked to me,” Aron blurted out.
When you shared parts of yourself that you didn’t realize you were.
“We cannot go back,” Roman replied with maddening calm, tugging the tunic over his head. “You’ve changed the rules.”
Aron’s brows drew sharply together. He was genuinely confused as to what Roman was talking about. “How did I change the rules? I thought we were… mayhap not friends, but we talked. You didn’t ignore me or act like it was a chore to be around me. Was I wrong in thinking that?”
Roman shook his head, pressing the blue tunic into Aron’s hands to urge him to dress. He did not want to stand there having such a conversation with Aron naked and entirely too tempting for his peace of mind. And Jesu save him, Aron with a hurt, confused look in his eyes was enough to tug at his heart, despite the knowledge that it shouldn’t affect him at all.
“No, Aron, you were not wrong. I did enjoy the time we spent together, training and talking….” He shook his head and tugged on his trews, tossing his hair back out of his face and looking up at Aron briefly. “Can’t you just let it be? There’s no point in attempting to be friends, Aron, when in less than a year you’ll be gone and we’ll never speak to each other again.”
Aron blanched, but Roman remained firm. It was true; there would be no opportunities to see each other again when his indenture was done. Roman was a slave, and Aron would not be allowed to see him. There was no purpose in trying to be friends when in the end no good could come of it.