At His Throat, a Promise (57 page)

The dining room table was covered in food. There was enough of it to last a week and then some. He stared in confusion at it for a few long minutes, almost as if he wished the food would explain itself. It didn"t.

“Okay, love?” Nell asked as she entered the dining room with another tray. Cookies. Chocolate chip, more chocolate than cookie.

Harte"s favourite.

“What are those?” he asked flatly, angry that such cookies could even exist when Harte wasn"t around to eat them, getting chocolate on the corner of his mouth and on his fingers, making Ellis laugh and William look at him fondly.

“Oh, just some cookies. I… I wanted to… ” Nell wrapped her arms over her stomach and scrunched up her face, her pretty brown eyes dark with sorrow. “For when he comes back,” she finished in a whisper.

Ellis had never really taken the time to consider that Nell would get attached to them. He liked her enough; she was very sweet, if a little nosy at times. He just hadn"t thought that she"d be so affected by Harte"s leaving. But she"d known him even longer than Ellis had, and he"d fallen pretty quickly, so it made sense.

“Do you want one?” she asked hopefully, holding out the tray.

Staring at them for a long moment, Ellis shook his head. “Can I have some crackers, though?” he asked, gesturing toward the plate towering with them. He wasn"t hungry in the least, but he knew it would make Nell feel better to see him eat. She"d obviously been 493

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cooking to quell her own sadness. Besides that, he didn"t want to disappear by losing himself in grief. He had to be strong, to find a way to bring Harte back.

Because there was
no way
he was going to let Develyn kill him.

“Of course!” Nell cried, piling a few handfuls on a plate along with some cheese and cold cuts.

Ellis stomach curdled in rebellion, but he nodded gratefully.

“I"ll take these upstairs,” he said, wondering how much he could flush before destroying the septic system.

Nell rubbed her hand over her belly and nodded, smile tremulous.

For the first time, Ellis realised that Nell"s stomach was protruding significantly. His eyes widened as he chastised himself for not knowing earlier. From what he"d learned in school and television, she had to be at least six or seven months along.

“Nell, you"re… expecting,” he told her, as if she didn"t know.

“What? Oh, yes. Not long now.” She straightened her posture and moved her hand, and Ellis saw she was even closer than he"d originally thought. “Want to feel? He"s been kicking all morning.

Doesn"t like it when Mommy"s sad, I think.” Not knowing what else to do, Ellis touched her belly. It was harder than he"d expected; his fingers pressed a little and there was a responding push from inside.

“What—!” he gasped, jerking his hand away. He looked to Nell for reassurance; she just smiled at him.

“So what I mean? So active.” She grabbed his hand and replaced it, pushing again in a certain place so that a moment later, Ellis could clearly feel a little kick or push from within.

“That"s amazing,” he breathed, putting his other hand on her as 494

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well.

“I know most mothers want their babies to be brilliant, but I hope he"s not. I hope he"s just as smart as his mommy and no more.”

Ellis knew Nell to be quite clever—not enough to have been considered for slavery, but…
Oh.

“You don"t want him to be a slave,” Ellis guessed. He felt a little uncomfortable with that thought. He didn"t hate being a slave.

He learned a lot and now he had William and…

Well, maybe he did hate it a little.

“Of course not. I want him to learn about sex with someone he loves, not have it forced upon him because of some twisted ideal that equates sex with service.”

“I understand,” Ellis said, bringing his hands back. He knew she wasn"t really calling him a whore, but it would always be difficult for those outside the life to really understand.

“Oh, Ellis, it has nothing to do with you or Harte. You two are amazing. And William is the best master I"ve ever known, but for every William, there"s ten Jude Mitchells or even Jack Archers.

It"s not a risk I"d be willing to take just so he could work some fancy job.”

Ellis hadn"t realised just how much Nell knew about what went on inside William"s home, but it was evidently a lot. She was right, of course. Slavery was a dangerous option, and not just for the slave"s body and mind. For their hearts, as well. Slaves must fall in love all the time; it was absurd to think one could remain detached when society connected sex and love so obviously.

“I bet Jin is excited,” Ellis said, thinking of Jude"s cook who was also Nell"s aunt.

“She"s thrilled, has been ever since I found out. Wish the father 495

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was still in the picture, but hey. What can you do?” Ellis didn"t know. He just smiled and nodded and went back to touching her belly. It was addictive; there was a person on the other side, just waiting to be made into something. That baby was all Nell"s and would be loved so much. He"d never really thought of it before, but he supposed he wanted children one day.

He wondered what that meant, with him liking men. He bet Harte would be a good parent, and William, too.

Angry with himself for his painful thoughts, Ellis thanked Nell for the talk and took his crackers upstairs. He hesitated outside Harte"s door. It was firmly closed but he could sense William within. There was an aura of despair that he could almost taste.

He entered without knocking and closed the door behind him.

The curtains were drawn and the room was dark enough that he could only make out the barest details, but he could see the outline of William on Harte"s bed. He wished it weren"t so morbid—Harte wasn"t
dead
after all. They should be planning on saving him instead of mourning him.

William didn"t move as Ellis climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside him. They were both on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, and for the first time, Ellis felt an almost equal camaraderie between them. They"d both lost something important, they both felt lost and alone. They
weren’t
alone, though. They had each other and that was something.

“Are you all right?” William asked, his voice rough.

Ellis tilted his head to look at William. There was just enough light that he could see the rough details of his face, but he knew what William looked like enough that his brain supplied the rest.

“I"m going to get him back.” Ellis"s words were surer than his voice, and he knew William could tell that.

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“Ellis… ”

“Don"t,” Ellis said, cutting him off. He added, “Master,” as an afterthought, but William didn"t seem angry. Just defeated. Ellis didn"t want to hear the negative things he knew William would say.

William sighed and folded his hands under his hand. Sitting up to see him properly, Ellis thought about what he wanted to say. He didn"t really have a talent for subtlety—when he did talk, it tended to be straightforward and honest. So he didn"t try to hide what he meant in innuendo.

“That night at the Lounge when you and Harte saw me with Master Jude, you did something to him, didn"t you?” As a lawyer-in-training, Ellis didn"t expect William to answer, to incriminate himself. And he didn"t—except that his silence was as much of an admission as a positive response.

Ellis continued. “You didn"t like seeing me hurt and you wanted me back so you made it happen. And now all of a sudden, when Harte needs us the most, you plan on just rolling over and giving up?”

When William spoke, his voice had a wistful quality. “You were bruised so badly we could barely see the colour of your skin.

Your collar was so tight that you still have scars from the blisters.” Absently touching his new, perfectly fitting collar, Ellis nodded. “It"s true. He hurt me badly. But it was nothing I couldn"t survive. Harte might not have the same chance. In a way, I was lucky—Master Jude might have wanted me to be perfect, but he never wanted me dead.”

“Even if Develyn were to have… an accident like Jude did, there"s no telling that Harte would come back to us. And then there"d be an investigation. The death of two masters is bad 497

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enough, Ellis; three creates a pattern.”

“But I don"t want to kill him.” A part of Ellis couldn"t believe how callously they were talking about a man"s life, but at the same time, that man had no qualms about taking life into his own hands.

“I just want to make him give Harte back.”

“I"ve been taken off his case. I don"t see how there"s anything I can do. Anything legal, anyway.”

An idea began to percolate, but it was merely a wisp of a thought, not enough to confide. “That"s just it,” he said slowly. “It has to be legal.”

William closed his eyes. “I don"t deserve to have him back, even were a miracle to deliver him into my arms. I shouldn"t even have you. I can"t keep slaves. I was never meant to.” Ellis curled himself over and around William, a leg crossing his and an arm over his broad chest. He tucked his head into William"s neck and inhaled deeply; the scent grounded him, made his resolve that much stronger.

“I"ve never been happier than I am here with you and Harte.

And… And, Master, I don"t care if anyone knows because I"d rather be taken away than you not know how I feel. I love you.” At first, William went stiff all over, and Ellis"s face flushed in unfamiliar colour. He wanted to pull away and almost did, but William"s arms tightened around him and the embrace was so tight that Ellis couldn"t have broken it if he"d tried.

“It"s not safe, saying those things,” William whispered. His voice was broken, low and thick and full of meaning that Ellis couldn"t really begin to understand.

He only wished Harte was here to witness his confession. He"d never said it to Harte, only that he was crazy for him and other variations that danced around the words, but somehow Ellis knew 498

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that Harte wouldn"t be offended that William was the first to hear it. He loved Harte equally—differently, but no more or less.

William, though, was the first to really make Ellis see his own worth.

Ellis would never forget that.

“I don"t care about safe, Master,” he whispered, lips brushing William"s throat, the bristles there were scratchy and comforting.

“I"ll always be safe with you.”

“Harte would have thought that, too.”

“Harte was
right
. Don"t make it seem like he was wrong to put his trust in you. I can"t bear to hear it.” Ellis knew it wasn"t fair of him to ask, but he had to. He needed William not to give up, to come back to himself, to realise that Ellis was still there, needing him. “Master, please be strong for me. I can"t do it without you. I need you to be the brave one so I don"t always have to be.” There was a silence so laden with meaning that Ellis wanted to cringe away from it. Then William"s grip on him loosened slightly became less desperate and more comforting. Their positions switched easily, as if it had happened a hundred times before—

maybe it had, and neither had really noticed.

“We"ll get him back,” William said, and Ellis believed it because, now,
William
did.

In the darkened room, devoid of Harte and everything that he innately was, the wisp of an idea cemented. When William fell asleep, Ellis stayed in his arms as the plan took hold, but soon he could no longer bear it. He needed to be sure.

He slipped unnoticed from the bed and made his way to William"s study.

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“Ellis.”

“Shhh… ”

“Ellis, come on. It"s four in the morning.”

“Not sleeping.”

“I think you are.”

“No.”

Thick arms wrapped around him, hauling him up over a broad shoulder. At first, he struggled a little—his leg was asleep and he couldn"t see very well—but the shoulder was much warmer than the chair, so he snuggled in.

“Sorry I was rude,” Ellis said to William"s back, upside-down as he was. “Thought I was dreaming.”

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“Don"t worry about it.”

Ellis grabbed on to whatever cloth he could as William made his way up the stairs. He didn"t feel all that secure, but there was an undeniable certainty that William just wouldn"t drop him.

“What were you looking at?” William asked, his voice quiet and concerned. He lowered Ellis onto the bed, which was still warm from William"s body.

Curling into the lingering heat, Ellis shook his head. “I was trying to find an answer.”

“Did you?”

He really hoped so. But he said, “No, Master.” William couldn"t know. He wouldn"t allow it, even if he knew it would work.

Which it just might.

“It"s going to be… ” Whatever platitude William had been prepared to say, he didn"t. He only sighed and got under the covers beside Ellis. “I"m going to do everything I can to get him out of there. I won"t leave him, Ellis. I promise you.” Ellis smiled and touched William"s cheek. Even though he"d asked William to be strong so Ellis didn"t have to, he did all he could to comfort William. “I know,” he said simply.

He tried to smile when William leaned in to kiss him, but he couldn"t fake it fast enough. William"s lips were soft and the kiss was familiar and easy, but the missing piece was so obvious that Ellis knew there was no way he could perform any slave duties at the moment. William saved him from having to say anything; he pulled away with regret in his face and turned off the lamp beside the bed.

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AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

“I want to go see him.”

William looked up from his paperwork, frowning. “Who?” Ellis was standing before the desk—not sitting on the sofa or kneeling by the desk chair. It was a neutral position that meant, he hoped, that was neither student nor slave at the moment.