Author's notes: This chapter took me a little longer than the others. My apologies.
Falling in the Clutches of Circumstance (Part 4)
It had been three days since Martin had confronted Daniel about the circumstances regarding his so-called attack on his previous master, and although they had not spoken of it since then, Martin had been able to think of nothing else. In his mind's eye, he kept seeing Daniel's face as he looked at the pictures and realized what they depicted. He kept hearing his cold, calm words as he described what had happened to him. But most of all, he kept reliving the moment when he had left him alone in the room with those memories. He had wanted so badly to turn around and rush into that room and reassure him that all that was behind him now.
It was difficult, even now, three days later and having dinner with Sam, to get any of it out of his head. But Sam was talking, and she seemed to be very serious about what she was saying, so he forced himself to focus. He stared at her moving mouth for a moment until he could finally hear her words. Yes, something about her work; about her boss being a moron. He made a sympathetic noise and nodded, almost tuning out again until she unexpectedly changed topics.
"So, tell me about the new slave. Jeffrey's replacement."
That definitely grabbed Martin's attention. For a brief moment he entertained a sneaking suspicion that she could read his mind.
"I think he's going to work out fine," he said vaguely.
"Really?"
Martin realized that he really didn't want to discuss Daniel with Sam right now. He said the first neutral thing that came to his mind, hoping it would discourage further conversation on the topic. "Yes. He's a very quick learner."
Sam nodded, picking up her wine glass and studying its contents before taking a sip. "I wish you had consulted me before purchasing him. At the very least I should have been with you."
Martin inwardly tensed and readied himself for an argument. After nearly a year together, he had become quite adept at hearing the storm clouds gather in her voice. Outwardly though he merely shrugged, trying to diffuse the situation by making it seem like it was of little importance. "I didn't want to bother you with it."
"Bother me? Martin, this purchase affects both our lives, remember? Once we're wed, I'll be living in the same house as this slave." She looked down at the table and mumbled, but still loud enough for him to hear, "Living in the same house, since you went and had the slave's quarters razed to the ground. I'll never understand that."
"Sam . . . "
Her head shot back up. "Martin. The point is that it wouldn't have been a bother. I should have been there."
Martin, knowing that she was probably right, nodded. He also knew that it was better to agree and apologize or he would hear the same thing all night. "I'm sorry. You're right. You should have been there. It was inconsiderate of me not to say anything."
Sam poked at her food angrily, while Martin held his breath and waited to see if the storm would pass or if it would gather strength. After a few minutes she sighed and said, "Fine, Martin. I forgive you. But this just can't go on. Next time you have to consult with me."
Sensing that it was all over, he smiled. "I will, I promise."
Sam paused and took another moment to poke at the food at her plate. "Is he Jeffrey's age?"
Martin silently groaned at the return to the topic of Daniel. "No. He's younger. A little younger than me actually."
"Is he handsome?"
That one made Martin pause. "I suppose he is. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious. But I suppose I can make up my own mind when I see him tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
Was it? It shouldn't be, but for some reason that he didn't have time to consider, he didn't really want Sam to see Daniel.
Tonight. He didn't want Sam to see Daniel tonight. It's not like he never wanted her to see him.
"No problem. Tonight will be fine," he said.
"Good. And while we're on the subject of slaves, Martin . . . "
Martin tensed again and readied himself for more trouble ahead. This was either going to be about the slave's quarters being rebuilt or, Jeffrey staying on even after being replaced, or . . .
"I think we need to seriously reconsider getting more slaves for when we're wed. That house is just too big to have only two."
"The cleaning people that come in once a week can more than handle it, Sam."
Sam looked at him, scandalized. "But that's my whole point, Martin! Cleaning people! It just isn't done! It's not respectable! A house of that size should be looked after by live-ins."
"Sam..."
"Martin, I love you. But I don't want to be a laughing stock."
Martin sighed. He had to say something to placate her or the entire evening would be ruined. "You have a point, Sam. And I'll consider it. I really will."
"Really?"
"Yes. I promise."
She sniffed and began to poke at her plate yet again. Martin was starting to feel very sorry for that poor salmon.
It was obvious that Sam still wasn't happy and he knew that he had to change the direction of the conversation. He searched his mind for a safe topic; something that was sure to make her forget what they had just been discussing. Something that would bring a smile to her face.
It didn't take long for him to find it.
"You said you went shopping the other day . . . did you buy anything good?"
Sam stopped the assault on her salmon and flashed Martin a brilliant smile. Martin returned it.
He had done it; storm averted, clear skies ahead.
It was an hour later, and the closer Martin got to his house the more uncomfortable he felt about introducing Sam to Daniel. No, it was more than feeling uncomfortable. It was like having a warning siren screeching "DANGER" in his head. He loved Sam but she wasn't exactly known for her kind attitude toward slaves. She could at times be almost cruel to Sophie, her own slave, and she wasn't much better toward Jeffrey. And now he was taking her to meet Daniel, who had been through so much since his capture.
No, he wasn't at all certain that this was a good idea, but he wasn't sure how he could get out of it. Sam seemed intent on seeing Daniel, and when Sam set her mind on something . . .
Her hand trailing up his thigh derailed his train of thought and miraculously, the warning siren in his head became muted, almost nonexistent.
He looked over at her and she gave him a sexy smile that was full of promise and all his apprehension simply melted away.
Everything would be all right. He would find a way to make it all right. Once Sam met Daniel and saw how great he was, she would warm up to him. And once she lived with them, she would notice the same thing about Jeffrey.
Feeling immensely better, he turned back to the road ahead, trying hard to concentrate on driving it despite the delicious things Sam was now doing with her hand.
Martin found Daniel and Jeffrey, not surprisingly, in the kitchen, huddled together, laughing about something that he would never be privileged enough to know.
The words thick as thieves popped into his mind and for what seemed like the thousandth time he forced himself to swallow the twinge of jealously he felt whenever he saw them together. It wasn't that he begrudged them their closeness. It was merely that he wished that he could share some of that with them. But ever since he had forced Daniel to confront his demons, the other man had barely acknowledged his presence.
And probably with good reason. You forced him to do something he wasn't ready to do.
Feeling uneasy, he cleared his throat to announce their presence, watching as both men's heads turned toward him.
When Jeffrey noticed who else was with him, he stood up, assuming perfect posture. Daniel instantly followed suit.
Jeffrey spoke first. Bowing slightly to Sam he said, "Ma'am" as if he were addressing a queen. Martin could practically feel Sam beaming at his side. She loved that sort of thing.
"Sam, you remember Jeffrey," he said.
"Of course," she answered.
Martin then turned his attention to Daniel. He saw that the other man was watching Sam with a very guarded expression on his face, as if he wasn't sure if she were friend or foe.
"Sam, this is Daniel. Daniel, this is my fiancé, Samantha."
Daniel stepped forward and imitated Jeffrey's small bow and, "Ma'am" perfectly. If Martin didn't know better, he would have thought they had been practicing it all night.
Sam took that moment to also step forward, and with absolutely no discretion or tact, looked Daniel over from head to toe. Without taking her eyes off of him, she asked, "Is he as strong as he looks?"
Caught off-guard by the question and the bland, no-nonsense manner in which it was asked, Martin could only stammer an answer. "Uh . . . I guess so."
Sam nodded, then continued to stare at Daniel as if appraising him.
Daniel for his part, might as well have been turned to stone. He stood very still, and his face, usually so alive no matter what the situation, had lost all expression. Martin noticed that he wasn't looking at Sam but rather some far off point behind her.
Sam moved forward again, this time getting very close to Daniel. She touched his upper arm lightly and said, "Forget everything I said earlier, Martin. I think you've made a very fine purchase."
Hearing Daniel be referred to as a purchase made Martin flinch. But then he reminded himself that this was the way Sam had been brought up; this was the way most people thought of slaves - he certainly couldn't hold it against her.
He looked at Daniel to try and gauge his reaction to Sam's comment.
There was none. None at all. It was both eerie and disconcerting how the other man had simply shut down.
He turned his attention back toward Sam and realized that she was waiting for a response from him. He said what was expected of him, although he practically had to force out the words. "Thank you, I think so too."
Sam nodded and continued to stare at Daniel as if he were some prized object. Martin glanced over at Jeffrey and saw that he was staring at the ground looking completely mortified. And Daniel . . . Daniel was still doing his best impression of a statue.
This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Why did I ever think that this could go well?
"Well, we should be going. Sam, I'll drive you home," he said, trying to end this disaster as quickly as possible.
Sam finally turned around to look at him. "Now? It's early yet."
Could it possibly be that she didn't feel the tension that had enveloped the room like a shroud?
Shaking his head ever so slightly, Martin walked up to her and took her gently by the arm. "I have a lot to do tomorrow. I'll be starting early."
Even though this was a lie, Martin felt confident in saying it. He knew she wouldn't ask what things he had to do; she never did.
Bidding hasty goodbyes to both Daniel and Jeffrey, Martin quickly led Sam out of the kitchen. He resisted the urge to turn around for one last look into the room. Besides, he already knew what he would see - misery.
Slam!
The sound reverberated loudly through the kitchen. Danny felt a perverse thrill at hearing it and an even bigger thrill at thinking that he might actually be doing some damage. So he slammed another drawer, and then another, for good measure.
"Daniel . . . " came Jeffrey's voice over the din, complete with warning tone.
"I told you Jeffrey - call me Danny," he said right before opening a cabinet door and slamming that shut.
"All right then. Danny. Would you please stop that? You're going to break something."
Slam!
"And you're giving me a headache."
Danny stopped in mid-slam, then looked over at Jeffrey. He could see that the man meant it. "Sorry," he said. His shoulders sagged with what felt like defeat.
"Good. Now sit," Jeffrey commanded.
Danny hopped up on the counter without a second thought.
Jeffrey folded his arms across his chest and looked at him sternly. "Now talk. What's bothering you?"
"Her!" he said as he pointed outside the kitchen.
"I warned you about her."
"I know but . . . but . . . "
"But what?" Jeffrey asked patiently.
Danny jumped down from the counter and began to pace furiously, hands gesticulating wildly in the air. "I just don't get it! Why?"
Still using his patient, reasonable voice, Jeffrey asked, "Why what?"
Danny stopped abruptly. "Martin seems like a decent guy. Why is he with her?"
Jeffrey nodded. "Oh. You mean why is he with an attractive woman who pays attention to him and treats him well?"
Danny stared at Jeffrey. It took a second for him to process what the other man had just said. But once he had, he felt instantly foolish. He rolled his eyes and barked out a laugh.
Jeffrey smiled briefly before turning serious. "Martin is a good man. A very good man. But he is a man. And Samantha is a beautiful woman."
Danny nodded.
"And you know what a beautiful woman can do to a man, don't you?"
Danny nodded again. He knew what Jeffrey was getting at; he himself was certainly not immune to the charms of a beautiful woman. He had been where Martin was now. He was fairly sure that every man had at one point in their lives. "I was just caught off guard, I guess. I thought she'd be like him."
"Yes, well, Martin certainly holds out hope that one day she will think like him. I, myself, hold out almost no hope that will happen; but what can one do?"
"We can hope that Martin realizes what a slag she is . . . "
"Danny!" Jeffrey said in his most reproachful tone.
Danny hung his head. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Martin isn't stupid, Danny. Just in love. Eventually he'll realize what a slag she is . . . "
Danny's head shot back up, lips curving up in a smile. "Jeffrey!" he said in mock shock.
"...and life will be much less stressful for everyone around here. In the meantime, we will do our best to be civil."
"I can be civil," Danny replied in a slightly affronted tone.
"I never said you couldn't be."
Whatever good humor Danny had managed to glean from this exchange suddenly evaporated, leaving him feeling tired. Putting his hands in his pockets, he began to shuffle out of the kitchen. "I think I'm going to go up to bed."
"Danny?"
"Hmm?"
"Before you do that, why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"
Danny stopped and turned around, confusion evident on his face. "I did tell you."
"Yes, but there's more, isn't there?"
They stared at each other for several seconds before Danny smiled ruefully. "You're good, you know that?"
Jeffrey smiled and nodded. "So they tell me."
Danny sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "I know I've only been here for a few days, but I . . . I guess I was starting to get used to being treated like a human being," he said, his voice becoming animated. "And now, she just reminded me that this is how it's going to be for the rest of my life. I'm not a person anymore, no matter how many illusions I weave for myself to the contrary."
Danny's words were met with silence. Finally, after a long moment, Jeffrey spoke. "That was very eloquently put, Danny."
Danny shyly looked away. "Thanks."
"Danny, we talked about hope before," Jeffrey said, his voice very serious. "Don't give up on it. Things can change for you."
"No, Jeffrey, they can't. And the sooner I accept that, the easier my life will be."
And with those words, Danny walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jeffrey alone.
Danny was in bed reading when he heard the hesitant knock at the door. He frowned. He hadn't expected to hear from Jeffrey anymore tonight. He carefully set his book down next to him on the bed and called out, "Come in."
The door opened to reveal that it was Martin. Danny sat up quickly, conscious of the fact that he was only wearing pajama bottoms and no top. His hands itched to lift the blanket up to his chin, but he forced them to stay where they were. Better not to draw any attention to the fact that he was more than a little uncomfortable.
"Can I come in?" Martin asked.
"Of course," Danny answered, surprised that Martin felt he needed to ask. No one asked slaves anything; didn't Martin know that? He watched as the enigma that was Martin Fitzgerald walked into the room and looked around uncertainly. Realizing that the other man might stand there all night if he didn't say something, Danny patted the bed and said, "Sit, Martin."
He remembered to say, "Please," a moment later.
Martin nodded and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. "I ummm . . . I wanted to talk to you..." he began.
Danny stayed silent, waiting. He knew that he looked calm on the outside, while inside he was anything but. There were only three reasons he could think of why Martin was here. One, he was going to talk about what happened tonight and he wasn't looking forward to that. Two, he was going to talk about what happened the other morning - the pictures. Oh, and he really wasn't looking forward to that. Or three, this was the night that Martin stopped being such a gentleman and did what all his other masters had done.
"About what happened earlier, with Sam . . . "
Feeling relieved, Danny released the breath he hadn't been aware of holding. Of the three things that he thought it might be; this was definitely the easiest to deal with.
"I just wanted to let you know that she's not usually like that. I don't know what came over her."
Danny swallowed, unsure of what to say. This was starting to sound suspiciously like an apology, something that none of his previous masters had ever given him. He wasn't even sure they knew how.
Martin pressed on. "It's just that you seemed really uncomfortable."
"It's just that . . . she caught me off-guard, that's all," Danny, echoing what he had told Jeffrey earlier.
"Sam is a good woman," Martin continued. "She really is. She's just . . . she was brought up a certain way. To believe certain things. But that's not who she is inside. You'll see."
Danny really doubted that he would see anything of the sort. He had been in this country long enough to know the kind of person that Sam was. Those comments of hers had been cold, emotionless, and designed to hurt. No, he was certain that what he had seen of Sam on the outside was a true reflection of her inside.
But for some reason it seemed very important to Martin that he not think this. So he decided to feed Martin's illusion - at least for now - by agreeing with what he was saying.
"I'm sure you're right, Martin," he said, breaking into one of his patented easy smiles. "I'm sure she's great."
Martin looked as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders and Danny had to wonder why he cared. What did it matter to him if his woman had been rude to a slave?
"There's something else that I wanted to talk to you about."
Inwardly, Danny sighed - so it wasn't over yet. Outwardly, he merely said, "Ok."
"It's about the other morning."
Only incredible self-control stopped Danny from dropping his head into his hands and groaning. Two out of three. This was not his night.
"What about it?" he asked slowly.
"I...I feel so badly about it. I shouldn't have pushed it on you like that."
Another apology - despite the fact that the words I'm sorry hadn't been uttered. Danny didn't know what to do or say; this was beyond his realm of comprehension.
"I was being difficult and evasive," he finally said truthfully, hoping the discussion would end there. "You had every right."
Now please drop it. Please.
But Martin didn't drop it. "No . . . I should have done it differently," he said.
Danny heard the barely concealed anguish in Martin's voice and he knew it was really bothering him. He pondered his options for a moment. He could really milk this for all it was worth - play the sympathy card and see how much he could get out of it. Or . . . or he could simply and easily absolve Martin by telling him the truth - that despite the pain of it, it had felt good to get all that emotion out. That in the end Martin had helped him, not hurt him.
Before he could come to a decision, Martin said one more thing. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
Well, that did it. Decision made. Without thinking about what he was doing, Danny reached out and placed a hand on Martin's arm. "It's ok," he said. His voice betrayed him by breaking just a little, and he had to clear his throat to make the words sound the way they were supposed to. "It's ok."
Martin placed his hand on Danny's and leaned forward. Danny tensed, all goodwill suddenly gone.
This was it.
He should have known. All that talk about being sorry was just a prelude to what was about to happen. What always happened. He just couldn't believe that he had fallen for it.
But even as he was cursing himself for his stupidity, he remembered that out of all his masters, this one had been the kindest for the longest. And if this is what Martin wanted, then he had no right to deny it to him. If anything, he should be grateful that Martin had controlled himself for this long.
So he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Martin's. A moment later, he added pressure and intensity, knowing how good it would feel for the other man. Almost immediately, he felt Martin's mouth open; felt Martin kissing him back . . . felt his hunger. He responded by giving into that hunger, by letting it wash over him until he was drowning in it. He felt strangely at peace, despite knowing that this man was about to bed him.
It was at that moment of surrender that Danny felt the strong hands on his shoulders. They were pushing him backward, gently but insistently. It took him a moment to realize that Martin's mouth was no longer on his own.
He opened his eyes and looked around in confusion to see that Martin wasn't even on the bed anymore. He was standing next to it, running a hand through his hair, and looking thoroughly distressed. "That shouldn't have . . . I . . . "
"Master?" Danny asked, unconsciously reverting back to old habits in a moment of panic. He had disappointed Martin somehow. He'd done something wrong. And now Martin was going to send him away; sell him. And Danny found, to his surprise, that he didn't want to go.
But Martin didn't seem to be getting angry. He just seemed . . . agitated. "I should go," he said, even as he was moving across the room.
Danny managed to nod as he watched Martin leave the room amidst a flurry of muttered half-phrases.
He stared at the door, now closed, and wondered what exactly had just happened. A minute ago he had been certain that he and this new master would be christening the bed and now . . .
Now he didn't know what to think. This had never happened to him before.
But Martin had wanted him. He was sure of it. That kiss...
Very slowly he brought a hand up to his lips, touching them lightly.
How odd.
They still tingled.
Martin walked quickly to his own room and slammed the door shut.
He paced the length of it for a moment, all the while chastising himself.
How could he possibly have been so stupid? He had gone into Daniel's room to talk to him, not to take advantage of him!
He knew damn well that Daniel didn't want to kiss him; that he was only doing it because he thought it was expected of him.
And still he had kissed him.
He had told Daniel that he didn't want him in that way. But when Daniel's lips had been on his - that had been all he wanted. And what was even worse was that only through sheer force of will had he been able to end that kiss.
Martin groaned and let himself drop to the bed. None of this made any sense. He loved Sam. He desired Sam. So why should kissing Daniel have felt so wonderful? Why had it felt so damn right?
He shook his head, feeling utterly lost in his confusion.
Eventually, he lay back on the bed and, still thinking of the kiss, pressed his fingers to his lips.
Impossibly, they still tingled.