Bee Among the Clover (176 page)

R
OMAN
awoke, his limbs heavy with lassitude. He was warm, comfortable, and safe, cradled against the gentle rise and fall of Aron’s
chest with the sound of his heartbeat slow and steady in his ear. They were
as wound together as two people could possibly be, their legs entwined and Aron’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close even in his sleep.

It was unlike anything Roman had ever experienced. He had hated
all the times the thane had kept him in his bed all night, one arm slung around his waist. Yet even when Aron had held him on the pallet and it had awoken those emotions he’d rather have kept down, he hadn’t hated it.
In fact, it had left an aching hole when it had gone. Now there was this
new wondrous ache welling up inside of him. He knew he should be
fighting it with every breath—in the fall, Aron would be gonein the fall, Aron would be gone—but he
refused to think about that. They still had the summer together, and no
matter the risks he would have to take, he was going to make sure he spent
every possible moment he could with Aron.

Roman opened his eyes, cocking his head back to look at Aron’s face, so young in repose. All of the strength and fire for life quieted while he slept. Tenderness stole through Roman as he reached up to brush his fingertips across Aron’s cheek. Aron didn’t hate him. Despite everything Aron had been through because of him, he still wanted to be with him.
Roman promised himself that whatever it took, whatever Aron wanted,
he’d find some way to try to give it to him. No more fighting him. No
more running away.

Aron’s lashes fluttered and, seconds later, lifted. For the hundredth
time, Roman was struck by the color of his eyes. It was like staring at the summer sky.

Roman flushed, and a smile crept over Aron’s face, curving his full, sensual lips. His expression was as Roman imagined he himself had looked when he first opened his eyes and realized that, no, it hadn’t all
been a lovely dream.

“Good morning, Aron.” His voice was quiet, and he didn’t lift his head from where it lay on Aron’s chest. He smiled as Aron yawned and tightened his arms around Roman.

“Mmm. Good morning, darkling.” Aron reached up a hand to brush a lock of tangled hair from Roman’s cheek. “Did you sleep well?”
“Aye, how could I not?” Roman replied, leaning into Aron’s caress. They hadn’t stopped touching each other, exploring until exhaustion had caught up with them. All of the cares and worries that had been hounding him for the last several months had melted away, and for the previous night, at least, he’d felt whole.
Roman ignored the sunlight peeking through the walls of the tent. He didn’t care to know what time of day it was because then he’d feel compelled to attend to his responsibilities, and that would mean their time together was over. Let the thane come search for them if he was so concerned. Mayhap the little people in the hills would steal them away to their bower where time ceased to exist. Roman smiled at the fancy. “How are you this morn?” Roman asked, rolling onto his side and draping his arm over Aron’s chest, setting his chin on his arm so he could watch Aron’s face better.
Normally Aron woke up out of sorts until he could work the sleep from his system. Not today, though. It was still taking his mind some time to work, yet he couldn’t have been happier than he was right now. “Good, darkling.” It went beyond that, but there weren’t words for his mood.
The change in Roman was amazing. The shadows were gone from his eyes. The wall that Roman was so good at using to block him out had also disappeared. Instead of pulling away, he found his darkling warm and welcome, meeting his eyes with a smile on his lips that humbled him.
His hand on Roman’s cheek shifted to slide back into his hair. Aron drew him closer until their lips met. Aron sighed at the pleasure; he thought he could wake like this for the rest of his life and be content.
The thought startled him, and he slowly broke the kiss, tucking Roman against him as his mind spun. He knew now he loved Roman, but that kind of thought, thoughts of forever… they had to stop. He couldn’t keep him or have anything to do with him after his indenture was over. With the mist and magic of the night before gone, Roman belonged to Wulfgar.
He pushed those thoughts away for now. He would think on them later. Right now he had his darkling naked and warm in his arms, no sign of anyone coming for them yet. He’d be a fool to waste such an opportunity. Pulling Roman over him, he buried his hands in his hair and gave him a wicked smile.
“We’re naked and alone and in bed, my darkling, don’t you think we should make use of those facts?” He wouldn’t push; he had yet to decipher where the new lines were and didn’t want to coerce Roman into anything. He waited for a cue, some sign; then Roman’s mouth came down on his.
Aron’s heart tripped over. Roman hadn’t hemmed or hawed. He hadn’t mentioned his duties or fretted over Wulfgar’s likely mood. Instead, his darkling was kissing him, his arms winding around him as if he was a shadow that might slip away. Roman was nibbling at his lips, his tongue shyly demanding entrance. With a groan, he parted them and Roman’s tongue swept in, dizzying his senses.
He wasn’t sure if he dared to hope or not, but could it be that his darkling loved him too?
Aron moaned low in his throat as Roman kissed him, his stroking tongue gradually gaining confidence as the kiss continued and Aron made no move to take control of it. He could hardly breathe, and when Roman’s mouth moved, feathering along his jaw and against his throat, the inability to breathe lost all importance.
“Darkling….” His voice was a ragged whisper, his hands moving with infinite care over Roman’s shoulders and sides, into his hair, which spilled down to the small of his back. For an instant the desire to keep Roman, to make him his own, was so strong he couldn’t focus on anything else, and his arms tightened around him, not even aware of what he was saying until he’d already said it. “Come away with me.”
Roman froze, the soft intake of his breath loud in the air between them. He lifted his head to stare down at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “What?”
Aron blinked, looking back at him, and realized what he said, but he didn’t take it back. The thought crystallized in his mind, and his hands came up to cup Roman’s face, his eyes intense. “Come away with me.” He sat up and held Roman in his lap, his voice fervent. “We’re neither of us meant for this, darkling, and you know it. You’re no slave, and the gods know neither am I.”
“I don’t understand.” Roman sounded as if the words were dragged from him, and he tightened his hands on Aron’s shoulders. . “You cannot. I don’t understand,” Roman repeated, his voice anguished. He pulled away, rubbing his bare arms. “Why would you risk Wulfgar’s wrath? You’ll be free in six months.” Roman closed his eyes and turned his face away, a visible shudder running down his spine.
Aron’s heart was ripped from him as Roman pulled away, looking at him like he’d sprouted a second head for even considering leaving. He’d known, gods he’d known that Roman was no unwilling prisoner, not anymore anyway. But he’d hoped. He shook his head. He was a fool, again.
He lifted his eyes to Roman’s, jaw clenched. “Because I cannot do this anymore, Roman. By the gods, I cannot be this, a piece of property, an object.” Aron bit back the true reason: because he loved this man, and if he didn’t get away from Wulfgar, with or without Roman, Aron knew he would end up compromising his entire life for the chance to stay with Roman in whatever capacity he could.
He wouldn’t let pretty eyes and addictive kisses lure him to a life of slavery. And if he stayed, that was exactly what would happen.
Perhaps it was running away with Aron that was the problem. He met Roman’s eyes again. “Don’t come to be with me if you’d rather not, Roman, but to be free.” His darkling was no more meant to be a slave than he was, and if it would mean Roman free, Aron would set aside his own desires to keep him.
Roman’s mind whirled. He understood more than anyone the desire to be free. As the memory of his home became more and more indistinct, he became ever more afraid that he’d never see it again. Each season it became easier to find an excuse to stay instead of trying to run. Was that what Aron feared? That when his term of service was over with he’d find himself remaining at Wulfgar’s instead of returning home?
He wanted to say yes. Jesu, he wanted to so much that he ached with the force of it. They could quit the tent and be gone hours before Wulfgar thought to look for them, but he knew what would happen. Without clothes or supplies, they wouldn’t make it far, even with the horse. Wulfgar would catch up with them, and when he did, they would both pay.
Roman wanted to argue with Aron, to remind him of his family and the consequences of failure, but Aron already knew all of that, and if he were honest, his reasons for arguing were purely selfish. He wanted to hold onto Aron as long as he could. He saw his dreams of long summer days flittering away. He’d thought he had six more months with him only to find he had no time at all.
“I understand, Aron,” Roman replied, his voice dull, dropping his gaze down to the furs. He didn’t want Aron to see the pain in his eyes and be swayed. “If that’s what you wish, then I’ll help you.” He could do that at least for Aron. He owed him. How many times had he wished for a penance so that he could make things up to Aron? This was his chance.
Roman’s thoughts sped now as he discarded a dozen different plans that sprang to mind. This had to be thought out in careful detail if there was to be any chance of success. Wulfgar had to think Aron was dead or he’d pursue Aron until he found him. If Aron had to go, Roman was going to make damned sure he made it. Aron wasn’t going to experience the horror he had. No matter what he had to do to ensure that it was done right, he would. But that’d mean Aron would never see his family again, and Roman’s heart broke at that thought. “Aron, are you sure?”
Aron swallowed hard as he realized Roman didn’t want to come with him. He shouldn’t be surprised. It shouldn’t hurt. He’d just thought, after the night before, waking with him this morning… he shook his head. He was a fool for thinking Roman would give up the life he seemed so content with to take a risk like this.
“You needn’t help me, darkling. I don’t want you to bring Wulfgar’s anger upon yourself if something goes wrong and he discovers you aided me.” He remembered what Roman had told him had happened the last time the slave had tried to escape. The thought of that happening again because of him made Aron’s stomach turn.
Roman shook his head, dark eyes lifting, and they were determined now, none of the softness in them that Aron had reveled in just moments ago. Gods, why had he said anything? He could’ve held onto his illusions for a few more hours, one more chance to hold him freely and touch him without any hesitation.
Roman took a deep breath. “You’ll need help, Aron, or you’ll get no further than I.”
Aron wanted to demand Roman come with him. Gods, he was tempted to throw him over that horse and take him against his will. But he wouldn’t. Roman had chosen him last night. But in the light of day it was Wulfgar who was the slave’s final choice, and Aron had no way to fight that.
Aron slowly nodded. Roman was right; he would need help. Until he’d joined Wulfgar’s household, he’d never been away from his father’s lands. He didn’t have the slightest clue where he could go or how to get there, and if he left, he’d never be able to return home. For a moment he wavered. He could stay and not be banished from his home. He could still see Roman. Then his resolve hardened. Not when Roman chose Wulfgar. He couldn’t handle it, not after last night, not with the memory of the agony he’d been in over the last couple of months.
Roman sighed. “How soon?” he asked, his voice subdued.
Aron hated the sound of his voice with that wistful tone. Why did he sound like that when it was the thane Roman wanted? Perhaps he’d wanted both and was upset he couldn’t have that. For a brief second, he was concerned Roman might try and betray his plan to leave, but that thought was gone as quickly as it came. It wasn’t in Roman’s nature to be cruel and cause others harm by choice.
“As soon as possible. I cannot stay any longer, Roman.” It was going to drive Aron mad, make him want to stay forever and not just the six months he had left. No, this was the only way. He had to get away. He only wished Roman would come with him. Even if it would diminish their chances of success, he would have risked it. But he wouldn’t steal the slave away from the master he’d grown to love and need.
Roman looked down. “I understand, Aron. Captivity chafes, no matter how gentle the cage.”
Aron frowned at Roman, mulling over his words. He wished the other man would speak clearly. Did that mean he wished to go? What was stopping him? “Darkling,” he started, reaching out a hand to lay on Roman’s arm. “Speak to me. What do you want?” Maybe Roman was just scared, not that he could blame him.
“To see you safely away.” He tugged himself free of Aron’s grip, not looking at him, and gathered his cloth and collar. “Give me a week and I’ll have everything you need.”
Aron’s jaw tightened. So Roman wanted him to go. He shoved down the pain, telling himself it was good. If Roman were to start begging him to stay, Aron didn’t think he would have the strength to leave. So it was good Roman didn’t want him. His heart, however, didn’t believe that; it broke inside his chest as he watched Roman put his collar back on.
Aron blinked rapidly and turned away, scowling down at the ridiculous loincloth which was all he’d been given to wear, a dark glare falling on his own collar, which was lying on the floor of the tent. He wanted to throw it into the fire. He instead picked it up stiffly and reattached it around his throat. He felt its weight and its significance more clearly at that moment than ever before.
They were no longer hunter and prey, nor lovers who lay willingly in each other’s arms. They were slave and thrall, property of another and without any right to choose anything else. Though Roman wouldn’t have, hadn’t when offered, in fact. Aron supposed Wulfgar’s cage mustn’t chafe at all for the slave, despite what he’d said. Or at least, it was preferable to Aron.
He refused to put the ridiculous loincloth back on; someone would come searching for them and bring them clothing, wouldn’t they? He glanced over at Roman as he wound the thin, white, sparkling cloth from the previous night around his hips. It might be nearly transparent, but Aron saw that sheer covering for the solid stone wall it was.
Shut out again. Gods, he thought he would suffocate at the loss.
Roman hesitated, then turned to face Aron. He hated to see the angry, rebellious look on his face; he longed to crawl onto Aron’s lap and feel his strong arms coming around him to comfort him. Aron was making no move to get dressed. Mayhap they could hold each other until someone came looking for them? Greatly daring, Roman edged a little closer, wondering if the other man would reject him. He didn’t know if he could stand it if he did.
“Aron,” Roman started, faltering when cold blue eyes met his. “We need to give no reason for Wulfgar to be suspicious or concerned.” He paused again, gnawing on his upper lip. “Last night was to heal the breach between us.” The bitter irony was that it had, until an even bigger gulf had separated them this morning. “We must act as if there are no more concerns on our minds.” That seemed the best way to put it. He didn’t want to acknowledge the distance between them again, and if he only had a week left with Aron, he wanted to be able to remember it with what joy he could.
Aron hesitated and then reached for him, drawing him close, arms folding around him and pulling him down onto the bed of furs. Relief surged through Roman as his lover slung one leg over both of his, and he moved closer, seeking solace even as he wanted to rail and scream.
Aron pressed his lips to Roman’s temple and murmured, “I’ll miss you, darkling.”
Roman nodded, burying his face against the side of Aron’s neck, holding on tight lest he start crying and begging Aron not to leave him. “And I’ll miss you, Aron.” He felt as if part of his heart was being excised out of his chest.
He understood Aron. If his lover knew how desperately Roman wanted to go with him, Aron would insist on Roman running away with him. He would die before he risked Aron in any way, and the both of them would never succeed. With Roman’s history of running, Wulfgar wouldn’t believe it a convenient accident for them both. Mayhap one day he’d be free and he’d see Aron again. He held onto that hope as tightly as he clung to Aron, praying Wulfgar would forget about them for many hours yet.