The Candle Princess

by Raine Hughes

  Jasmine’s rejection by Prince Rasoul fueled her own negative thoughts on arranged marriages, leading her to favor a love match even though at that point she had not experienced love. Should any inappropriate unions occur, the Spell of Infertility would most likely disallow conception, a state that the King took credit for with an ‘I told you so’ attitude.

  Jasmine shook off memories of her near entrapment with Prince Rasoul and let the harmony of the humming walls around them soothe her thoughts. She was presently not bound by ancient Djinn protocol. She was in a country where men and women were free to choose their own mates based on love.

  The hypnotic gaze Noah fixed her with, along with the equally entrancing touch, made her forget her gift to him until they blinked simultaneously, breaking the spell.

  “Oh! I have something for you, too, Noah.” She dashed away, calling over her shoulder, “I only used a little magic.”

  * * *

  Noah remained still when he found himself alone, staring into the mirror. The scene looked half empty. Jasmine had looked stunning in her slinky nightwear and bare midriff with the kitten snuggled into the bare region and her hair settled about her shoulders to perfection. She had smelled wonderful, too, a combination of her favorite flower—jasmine, of course—and the sleepy scent of lemon fresh bed linen.

  He took one final sniff of the air that still carried her scent, and walked out of the bathroom to dispel the feeling of abandonment.

  Jasmine appeared in a moment and handed him a parcel, apologizing for using magic to wrap it. Noah laughed, relieved to have something to expel the strange feelings that had just assailed him. He dived into the gift wrap similar to the way Jasmine had attacked hers. With a hoot of appreciation, he lifted out a one-piece, black slinky lambskin night outfit, just like hers, only much bigger.

  “Because you have given up your bed for me and sleep where it is cold and draughty,” she said of the upstairs room, “this will keep you cozy warm, like mine does. Does thee like it?”

  Not just fear of reprisal, but when any uncertainty assailed her, she reverted to the ancient language, Noah noted, but the instances were happening less and less often.

  “Why don’t I try it on and see?” He dodged back into the bathroom and eagerly wrestled his clothing off. In another minute he discovered that it fit perfectly, and savored the feel. In fact it felt absolutely wonderful. He’d dashed back out before realizing what he was doing—showing himself off in nightwear! Heat was quick to rise up his neck under her close appraisal. At least he wasn’t wearing his faded red long-johns like he’d been the night he’d held Jasmine in his arms after the waterbed incident.

  She looked at him with the critical eye of a seamstress. He concentrated on the wink of the rare gemstone nestled at her throat. Was it shining brighter than usual? With the tiny movement of each breath Jasmine took, it seemed to wink at him, as if knowing his secret: he was totally and irrefutably in love with its wearer.

  Each renewed realization left him lightheaded, which might explain why he posed for her in several bold stances, exaggerating the poses until she giggled with uninhibited glee, just as he’d intended, to dispel the serious intimate mood. Only a short time ago, he would have considered his behavior outrageous, but not this time. The outfit covered him totally, albeit a bit revealingly with its snug fit.

  He realized that last part as arousal hit him swiftly. The skin-tight fleece only held the evidence partially in check. As if he’d voiced his reaction, Jasmine’s eyes dipped and settled there. So much for downplaying his reaction!

  “This is wonderfully soft, like a second skin,” Noah managed to say with only a slight waver to his voice. “I can see why you like yours, Jasmine. I’m glad though, not to have a bare space in the middle!”

  Jasmine’s gaze darted back up to his immediately and they both burst out laughing. Jasmine sidled closer, briefly touching her own slinky. “You will not need to touch mine anymore?”

  Her voice was seductive to his receptive ears, sending sparks of awareness skittering through his body. The way she’d spoken, with a little question at the end of her statement, prompted him to say, “I still want to,” and he reached out to do just that, sliding his hand over the curly fleece along the lapels of her top so that his fingers brushed her skin. “I love the feel of the lambskin,” he said, leaning towards her while trying to maintain some distance, at least from his lower anatomy. “And you.” His voice came out breathy sounding and he had to clear his throat before saying, “Thank you, Jasmine.”

  * * *

  He was going to kiss her and Jasmine waited eagerly for the descent of his lips. Was he thanking her for his own slinky lambskin suit, or for allowing him the privilege of touching hers? He hadn’t touched her in a long while, a whole day at least. She tilted her head, her eyes upraised provocatively she hoped, pleased when his eyes further widened with awareness.

  Her hair swung forward so that the little cat batted at the veil of tresses. With claws clinging to the hair, she swung herself behind the veil, thudding against Jasmine’s chest as she played. Then the telephone rang, totally demolishing the spell that had been drawing them together. A little disappointed, Jasmine set the kitten down and watched her explore, while Noah answered the phone.

  When he replaced the receiver Noah announced, “Mom just wanted to wish us a Merry Christmas and to ask us to bring along a pound of butter. I’m sure we have one frozen in the deep freezer; heck, she probably does, too.” He chuckled at the ploy. “I’d better go get ready.” With that he turned and swiftly disappeared from view. If not for his apparent arousal and the strained whisper of his voice, she would have thought he was unaffected by what had passed between them. Noah wanted her. He wanted her like a man wanted a woman.

  Why did things keep happening to destroy the moment?

  She let her breath out, disappointed that the chance had been lost, but like the falling bed, maybe Allah and Noah’s God were running interference again.

  Her spirits lifted in the next instant. She could not be upset with the lively little cat that bounced about in play, looking adorable and lovable. With a happy skip, Jasmine went off to prepare herself for their day at the elder D’Ark residence.

  * * *

  Upstairs, Noah waved his hand in front of his face to cool off. Jasmine’s seductive looks were almost more than he could resist. Heck, he couldn’t downplay his own corrupt yearnings that he’d done nothing to derail. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the phone call he probably would have hauled Jasmine into his arms right then and there and abandoned the idea of going out for Christmas dinner. He would much rather be making out with Jasmine.

  It was a good thing he did have an obligation to take her to his parents house. That place especially should keep him focused on other things—like making sure his father didn’t discover anything he shouldn’t.

  It was but minutes before he returned downstairs to find Jasmine wearing a dusty-rose pantsuit of crushed velvet. A black camisole was visible at her throat. The ruby and emerald choker still winked at him, leaving him again to wonder if it, too, was somehow alive.

  “We best go before I suggest we forgo Christmas dinner,” he said with a husky laugh to dispel the real appeal of the idea, especially since she had taken his hint and left her hair loose; it would be warm, taking the place of her usual neck scarf. It took effort not to take that silky mass into his hands once more.

  On the drive over, Jasmine’s exotic perfume befuddled his brain, making it difficult to explain that it was D’Ark Christmas policy to invite those who had no family. Once inside the house, they discovered a mishmash of people fourteen to eighty-one years of age.

  After introductions were made, Noah immediately saw that Jasmine gave an easygoing attention to the guests. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she moved around the room. It was both a relief and a burden to note that most every other eye in the room followed her movements, accompanied by smiles or bobbing heads. Obviously, she‘d made
a good impression on all of them. That was a relief. She would fit in.

  His father’s welcome had been punctuated by his almost-look-of-surprise perusal. Had Dad expected Jasmine to show up in her native costume?

  In the manner of treating everyone like family, Martha managed to get them all involved in some aspect of the feast. Jasmine was assigned the task of setting the table, and she accomplished that in the mortal way, taking care with his mother’s fine china plates and matching dishes.

  “The cutlery is in reverse,” Noah whispered as he began filling wine glasses. In an instant, the cutlery exchanged places and Noah spilled the sweet red wine he was in the process of pouring. Hastily mopping it up, he looked around and saw that no one had noticed either transgression.

  “Before we put the food onto the table,” Pastor Herman called out to gain everyone’s attention, “I have a few thoughts to impart.” He waited until everyone found a seat before beginning his sermon.

  Here it goes, Noah thought. He reached for Jasmine’s hand.

  “… may you have the strength to forgive those who pass unfair judgment for they know not the true situation but if assessment is correct, then pray you find your way back to God’s pathway…”

  * * *

  Jasmine thought that Noah’s life was not an easy one. He had the two-fold disadvantage of being in the spotlight because of his background and of being unable to defend himself because of her strange circumstances. Guests had made polite enquiry about their meeting. He neither confirmed nor denied the mail order companion story, simply stressing that she was his houseguest for the time being. Good manners prevailed and no one pursued the topic.

  Her thoughts turned to more physical things. Noah was such a proud man, and ruggedly handsome, too. Visions of his sleek physique, emphasized by his new slinky black fleece sleepwear, danced in her mind until Pastor Herman’s words broke into her thoughts and she listened for a bit.

  “…let your conscious guide you as there is only Him and yourself to answer to and remember the impact you may have on other lives. Remember, you hold more than your own person…”

  Noah was sacrificing so much for her, both in offering his home to her and in having to endure unfavorable public and family opinion of their relationship. He resisted her powers for most part, a proud man who lived by his own resources and strong morals.

  She squeezed his hand back, loving this man beside her more than she ever dreamed possible to love someone. Thank Allah and his God that she had landed in the snowy cold of central Canada, landed almost directly into the arms of a warm and compassionate mortal!

  She smiled, firmly believing that their two higher beings were working together.

  After the meal and singing around the piano, they opened the baskets Martha had prepared. Inside Jasmine’s were a set of measuring spoons, a cookbook, and a box of Special Blend Jasmine Tea. She chortled appreciatively at Martha’s choices.

  Noah’s muffled snort drew her attention. He held up a packet of Sleepy Time herbal tea and read aloud his mother’s note. “Specifically to induce sleep should you be experiencing difficulties.” His eyes were laughing at the obvious message behind the gift.

  * * *

  Noah saw his father watch with speculation when Jasmine engaged the recently immigrated couple from Holland on the other side of her. They were delighted to converse in Dutch rather than their halting English.

  “Glad you could join us,” Martha said as they prepared to leave. She hugged Jasmine warmly before passing her on.

  Here it comes! Noah prepared to intervene as the elderly D’Ark man drew Jasmine close for a hearty hug, as he had done with all the other guests.

  “You are a lady full of surprises,” the pastor said when he set her back from him once more, his gaze intent on her as if expecting to find the answers to his question. “You’ve managed to make the Strytveens feel more welcome in our house than we could have because you could talk with them in Dutch. Do you speak any other languages?”

  “Oh yes, I—”

  “She can act as interpreter in several languages that are helpful to her country,” Noah answered for her, then thanked his parents for dinner as they left. “It’s been a pleasant and full day, Mom, Dad, and we thank you for everything.” He gained their nods in return before propelling Jasmine through the door. Noah could feel his dad’s questioning gaze on his back as they quickly made their way to the truck and climbed inside.

  “I enjoyed myself very much,” Jasmine said as they drove away.

  “You fit right in,” Noah agreed, silently adding to himself, something Carol never did and didn’t want to. He grinned at Jasmine a moment before turning his eyes back to the road and concentrating on his driving.

  Chapter 13

  “Only one thing would make the day complete,” Noah said casually as he stretched out on the sofa and invited Jasmine to settle down with him. They were both wearing their slinky lambskins, ready for bed after the late television news was over. There was nothing whatsoever wrong with them sharing time while dressed almost completely from head to toe in the concealing, curly wool, or so he told himself.

  It wasn’t quite concealing enough to contain his sexual response, one that was altogether too obvious with the tight fit. He didn’t worry about that either. He was through hiding his feelings from Jasmine. Interestingly, now that he allowed himself freer rein, it didn’t happen so much. His hormones had simmered down more appropriately.

  Focused on the two dogs and the kitten who were engaged in a mock battle beneath the kitchen table, Noah laughed with Jasmine as the animals chased and rolled with each other. It was wonderful to not be spending the evening alone with his thoughts.

  He marveled at how different it was with his unusual houseguest compared to the time he’d spent with his ex-wife when they’d been married. Only now did he realize that he’d always been on edge with Carol, wondering what demand she was going to make next. With Jasmine there was no edginess in that regard, only eagerness to spend time with her, then of being content just to be together. He was even taking her magical powers in stride—mostly.

  Jasmine passed him a smile at his query then looked back to the dogs as they finally flopped down in front of the kitchen range and ignored their feline companion.

  Noah drew Jasmine’s attention by saying, “I’d like to kiss a very special lady who made this one of the most memorable Christmases I’ve known.”

  “I have made Christmas special?”

  Noah growled at her deliberate misinterpretation. “Come here and I’ll tell you about it.”

  With a laugh, Jasmine rolled onto her hands and knees and slowly walked her way up between his widespread legs until she could look down into his eyes. Hers brimmed with amusement and awareness. When he reached up and pulled her down, she willingly settled onto his chest and torso. With a low moan, he engaged her lips in a slow, exploratory kiss while he combed his fingers through her hair.

  Since she still wore it loose, with nimble fingers he removed the combs and delved in right to her scalp, lifting and massaging and separating the strands with exploring fingers. He broke the kiss to whisper, “I love your hair, Jasmine. I like that it never tangles, I can sweep my fingers through without snagging a knot.”

  Jasmine’s mouth curved upward just enough to complement her bedroom eyes.

  His hands drifted lower, to her breasts, and molded them until their peaks were hard and sensitive under the thin fleece. Lifting her upwards he relinquished her lips in favor of paying homage to the pliant-firm mounds. Her body felt so good, so soft and welcoming. Her quiver spurred him to dip his fingers inside, just a little, to feel the softness of her pushed-up breasts against the back of his hand. The fleece top was loosely comfortable for sleeping, making it easy to engage in the foreplay. Her soft meowing sounds sent his breath into ragged gasps as he once more commandeered her lips.

  Noah was vaguely aware of the quickening tempo of the ever-present lyrics that surrounded them wh
enever they were in this room. Subconsciously he marveled that even the walls were becoming excited!

  Abruptly, something pounced on his leg. He jerked back with a yelp, his hand snaking out to the painful site. The move let Jasmine fall awkwardly on top of him. In the next instant, Jasmine, too, let out a yelp and scrambled off him.

  Noah gaped as the kitten raced up his leg and leaped into Jasmine’s lap a second before it took off again, tail curled, legs stiff. She raced into the kitchen and over top of the resting dogs. After a brief forced stop as it skidded into the wall, the playful kitten came back at them.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Noah successfully fended off the feline’s sharp little claws. She promptly jumped into Jasmine’s lap and sat there looking at him as if nothing had happened. Then she flipped over onto her back and play-attacked Jasmine’s hand.

  Noah roared with laughter. “I think you better name her Chastity.” He groaned at the unlikely guardian he’d given her. Jasmine broke into a giggle, then they both fell back onto the sofa and giggled like two teenagers thwarted at their lovemaking. His body ached with unaccustomed, unfulfilled need, a need he shouldn’t have been indulging in anyway.

  By the disappointed look in Jasmine’s eyes that contrasted with her laughter, she, too, recognized the internal war. That should make resisting such feelings easier.

  Or was it just the thing to spur them on?

  “Very clever, Lord!” he called upward to the Heavens. While he’d finally decided not to let religious propriety entirely rule him, it appeared that obstacles were going to constantly be thrown in his path by the Men of the Highest Order.