“I-I’ll let you hold me … but, Falcon please … don’t do the other … please?”
An impatient retort was on his lips when he felt the wetness of her tears. His heart and his resolve melted like snow in summer. He cursed himself for the mating he’d forced on her at Gloucester. He saw clearly that from her point of view it had been nothing short of rape. No wonder she begged him never to do it again. He had his work cut out for him if he was to persuade her that an intimate encounter need not be brutal.
With infinite gentleness he turned her over to face him. “My little sweetheart, trust me not to hurt you again. Forgive me for what I forced you to do the other night?” He stroked her hair to gentle her and coax her into a response. “Open your legs just a tiny bit for me. I’ll just use one finger, I promise. Just relax, darling, and I’ll make you tingle.”
Jasmine refused to answer him.
“Sweetheart, I know how tiny you are, especially down there, but I know how to stop it from hurting. I’ll make you hot and slippery and I swear I won’t mount you until you’re completely ready for me.”
Jasmine clenched her fists and thumped them against his hard, bare chest. “No, no, no!” she sobbed.
“I have starved for that which is mine by right of wedlock and I will have it,” he said low, his self-control sorely strained.
“Ah, why did you not let me drink deeply? If I were only half-conscious I might have been able to endure it.”
Her words wounded him, ate at his pride. So beautiful yet so cruel. He was deeply stung that a woman would need to get drunk before she could endure him.
Tears spiked her eyelashes and he patiently kissed them away with a tenderness that tore at his heart. He sighed deeply, trying to cool his raging ardor. “Sshh, hush love,” he crooned, “I promise I won’t do the other if you let me hold you, touch you,” he said reluctantly.
Her eyes searched his. “Do you really promise not to put it into me?”
He smiled and whispered, “I promise not to put it into you if you will let me have free rein with my hands and my kisses.”
After a tense moment she nodded her agreement. He cradled her against him with one strong arm, while his other hand stroked her gently. He chose a nonthreatening place to begin and moved his hand to caress her arm. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed each one with reverence, then placed her hand against his chest. She stiffened again as her fingers came into contact with the crisp hair. He told himself her shy reserve would dissolve as they became familiar with each other’s bodies. His lips began his kisses at the top of her head, which was well below his chin, then with loving hands he raised her face to his and brushed his lips across her temples, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her top lip. Then, forcing her mouth open only slightly, he allowed the tip of his tongue to touch hers with a teasing little darting motion. He must have bestowed a hundred kisses upon her before he moved on to further intimacy.
Slowly he folded back the cover from their bodies so that he could see her in all her glory, and lifted her higher against the pillows so that his lips could explore her body. She demurred, pushing her hands against his chest. “Jassy, you agreed,” he said, arching her abdomen up to his mouth to let his tongue play about her navel.
Although he was low in the bed and she was much higher, she could just reach his shoulders with her hands, but as she pushed at them it had the effect of lowering him further so that his hot mouth now rested at the cleft between her legs. Surely he wouldn’t put his wicked tongue inside her again, she thought wildly. “Falcon, no!” she cried as her worst fears were realized.
“Jasmine, you agreed,” he murmured against her hot center. He parted her lips slightly and allowed just the tip of his tongue to do the same teasing little darting motion it had done when he kissed her mouth.
“I know I didn’t agree to this, milord.” She gasped and then she remembered that before they were wed he had offered to make love to her with his tongue so that by the time they were married she would be ready for his great manroot. She hadn’t really believed he would do any such wicked thing, the mere talk of it had shocked her to her very soul. But now, again, she realized he expected her to allow him any wicked fantasy that came into his head. She withdrew from him with her mind so that her body could no longer feel the things he would do to her.
Though their physical bodies touched each other intimately, there was a great gulf that separated them mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Falcon knew he must breach that gulf or they would have no kind of marriage. As his hands and mouth grew bolder, his fingers and tongue more intimate, Jasmine withdrew further and further.
Falcon was in a fever of longing. Deep inside, his gut ached from the loveplay that had gone on for hours without reaching its natural conclusion. He cursed himself for promising not to mount her; he should have remembered how painful his swollen shaft would be if he didn’t have release. He crouched above her in his great need. His entire body now screamed with the need to release the pent-up desire that surged wildly through him. He straddled her gently and slid his shaft into the valley between her upthrusting breasts, then he took the round globes into his hands and squeezed them until his hard erection was sheathed. Jasmine could keep silent no longer. She cried out in low protest, “My lord, what are you doing to me?” Falcon was beyond words. It took only a few thrusts until he was gasping with ecstasy. He had come on her breasts. He resisted the urge to massage it over her silken skin and instead reached for the shredded black nightgown and gently wiped her breasts. She snatched the gown and turned away from him, silently outraged.
When Falcon awoke he found his cheek against her hot breast and groaned with the frustration of his situation. Jasmine opened her eyes and recoiled from him, her accusing look clearly blaming him for obscene things he should never have done.
He shot up from the bed as if she had thrown ice-cold water on him. Naked, he knelt to tend the fire, which had burned to ashes. She averted her gaze from his body and her amethyst eyes widened in horror as she surveyed the remnants of Isabel’s night rail. This reminded her that all below thought it had been her wedding night, but there would be no evidence of her virginity upon the sheets.
Jasmine looked about her for something sharp and spotted Falcon’s sheathed dagger lying upon his clothes. She moved across the bed and took the knife from its leather sheath. She was shocked by the speed at which Falcon had moved. Her wrist was being crushed by his strong fingers as he demanded quietly, “What the hell are you doing?”
Her lashes swept to her cheeks. Surely he hadn’t thought she would stab him in the back? Actually, his thought had been for her. Surely she wouldn’t harm herself rather than submit to him?
She faltered, “I-we-they will expect blood upon the sheets.”
He took the dagger from her and without a word made a small slit in his thumb and squeezed half a dozen drops of blood from it. By the legs of God, he couldn’t endure another night like the last. They would have to leave today. If they had to spend more time under the indulgent noses of their avid audience, touching in bed but not enjoying intercourse he would go mad. He went to the window and sighed with relief, for it had begun to snow in the night. They would have to leave today to ensure that they got through the mountain passes before they became blocked.
“It has begun to snow so we must leave today.” Suddenly he felt he was being cruel to tear her away from the comfort of Chepstow. “Dress warmly, Jasmine, it will be freezing cold out there. Have a visit with your father while you have the chance.” He slipped on his shirt, pants, and boots. “I’ll get William to give us one of his campaign tents. I don’t want you sleeping out in the open.”
Jasmine shivered and moved down in the bed to the lovely warm place Falcon’s body had recently vacated. How could she face a journey through the snow? She sighed deeply. It would be easier than another night where their every whisper might be overheard.
Chapter 28
Jasmine wore a woolen gown
and woolen stockings and a pair of riding boots. As she sought out Isabel to see if she had some warm gloves she could borrow, she passed an open chamber door and saw her father packing his saddlebags for a journey. He beamed at her. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?”
Suddenly her bottom lip was quivering and she covered her face with her hands as she wept hopelessly. He put his big arm about her and sat her down before the fire. “Jasmine, I want you to be happy,” he said anxiously. “I’m a good judge of men; believe me when I tell you you’ve one of the best in the whole realm. He has qualities that mark him off from other men.”
“Then why didn’t you give him your precious Isobel or Ela?” she cried.
“That was precisely my plan, but from the moment he laid eyes on you, he was blind to them. He would have no other. Child, your grandmother and I painted such a portrait of your inadequacies as a wife, no man in his right mind would have wanted to wed with you. In fact, I refused him outright until he forced me to yield to his demands. He told me you had spent the night in his bed and were hopelessly compromised. He insinuated that the damage he had done was beyond repair. I wanted him for a son-in-law, Jasmine, so I gave in to his demands.”
“But they inherit your lands and castles,” protested Jasmine.
“De Burgh did not covet my castles, he coveted only you. Jasmine, my dear, surely he has demonstrated the depth of his feelings for you. He braved a raging river to snatch you from the arms of Chester.”
She shuddered at mention of the dreaded name.
“Do you not return Falcon’s affection? Are things not right between you?” he asked concerned.
“He is so arrogant. His word is law. He expects me to obey his every order, but I shall defy him till I die!” she said passionately.
Salisbury tried not to smile. “You didn’t defy Chester,” he pointed out.
“Because he threatened to harm Estelle!” she cried.
“And Chester wouldn’t hesitate to inflict hurt upon you if you defied him. Am I right?”
“Yes,” she said, remembering Chester’s cruel hands on her breasts.
“You defy Falcon de Burgh because he allows you to defy him. Think about it, Jasmine.” Her father kissed her brow and wished her Godspeed on her journey. He told her he would shortly take issue with John and Chester for what they had tried to do to her.
Jasmine, wrapped in the ermine cloak with another hooded cloak over it, sat her palfrey in the snow-covered courtyard of Chepstow wishing she had the chatelaine’s skills of Lady Isabel Marshal. She spoke so knowledge-ably to Falcon, almost like an equal.
“In a couple of days I intend to send a few supply wagons through to you at Mountain Ash. Heaven only knows what the harvest was like at your Welsh holding. I’ll send some hams and wheels of cheese. Also some fine white flour so Jasmine won’t have to eat black bread all winter. I’ll include wine and cider casks and some ale too. If it’s been a male stronghold for a long time I know it will lack decent linen and any number of things. I’m willing to bet there isn’t a single mirror in the entire castle,” said Isabel, laughing at the puzzled look on Falcon’s face. “Men!” she said to Jasmine.
“I’ll never understand them,” Jasmine said faintly.
Isabel winked. “You underestimate yourself.”
“Thank you so much for your kindness, Isabel,” said Jasmine, her eyes looking longingly at the warm stone strength of Chepstow.
“Go with God,” Isabel shouted, as de Burgh put the spurs to his destrier and led the string of packhorses away.
Mountain Ash was approximately the same distance from Chepstow as Gloucester had been, but the terrain was treacherous. There were two ranges of mountains to climb, most of which were over twenty-five hundred feet. The first part of their journey would be far easier than the last half, and Falcon hoped to make it to the vicinity of Pontypool by dusk. It was at the foot of the first mountain range where the Castle of Usk lay beside a large lake.
Jasmine followed Falcon’s lead, being sure to keep up with him so he could have no complaints. She was very proud of herself for sitting her saddle for so many hours without complaint or tears through the thickly falling snow.
Just before dusk the snow stopped to give them a breathtaking view of the lake with the Castle of Usk rising from its far side. Jasmine felt the urge to capture its beauty on canvass. She swallowed her pride and spoke to her husband. “Can we stay there tonight?”
He knew she was cold and tired and hungry, and yet something about the place made him uneasy. After a slight hesitation he shook his head. “I think we’ll be better off in the tent.”
She flared, “You would! ’T is no hardship for you to sleep on the cold ground. I want to go to the castle, I don’t trust you alone in a tent in the wilderness with none to come to my aid!”
“You do right to fear me, lady!” he said tightly. “Never say to me again that you don’t feel safe with me.”
She bit her lip, for she knew she had really angered him this time.
Suddenly a lone rider with long black hair and bared arm muscles rode out from under the trees and drew rein beside Falcon. Jasmine cried out in alarm, but Falcon and the man spoke in the Welsh tongue. He gestured to the castle and Falcon asked him a question. In answer the Welshman held up the five fingers of one hand.
Falcon turned his head to look at her. “We go to the Castle of Usk after all.”
“Oh, thank you, milord. I’m truly sorry if I angered you.”
He cut her short. “We don’t go for your sake, my lady, we go because Chester’s assasins await us.”
She felt herself sway and caught hold of her saddle horn desperately to keep from fainting into the snow. Falcon chose the long way around the lake, keeping under cover of the trees and coming to the postern gate of the castle. Usk was part of the vast de Clare holdings that Isabel had brought to William Marshal when they married. It was a small holding, and the marshal kept only a handful of retainers there, some Welsh, some English. It had no garrison of men-at-arms, but from his service in Wales, Falcon de Burgh was familiar with Usk.
He did not take the horses to the stables but sheltered them in a lean-to near the kitchens that was used to keep wood for the fires. As he lifted Jasmine from the saddle he felt her shaking. How in the world would this sweet child find the courage to be a helpmate to a man like himself? For her sake he never should have married her. He opened the kitchen door and pushed her through into the hot room, redolent with the smell of delicious bread and acrid smoke. He fished into a pocket for a coin and held it out to the cook. “Where do you sleep?” he asked.
She pointed to a small room off the kitchen that contained a single pallet. As he ushered Jasmine into the little chamber, he cautioned her, “You will be safe and warm here. Put the bar down on the inside and do not open to any but me.”
The Welsh scout who had met him across the lake was in the kitchen when Falcon came out of the small room. “Are they all five together?” asked Falcon, hoping they were not so that he could take on one at a time.
“They are drinking in the hall,” the Welshman replied.
“Let’s try to separate them. I’ll go up on the battlements. Tell them you were just up there and thought you saw a rider across the lake.”
The Welshman nodded his understanding. He was a member of William Marshal’s household and therefore unwilling to take a hand in killing Englishmen, but as a native Welshman he was not averse to seeing English kill English. He went into the hall and told of the rider.
The leader of the men asked, “Was there a woman with him?”
“Too far off to tell.” He pointed upward. “They should be easy to spot now in the snow, although the light is fading fast.”
The leader dispatched two men to the battlements, then took the other two with him to the bailey where the drawbridge was clearly visible.
Falcon crouched on the battlements with his unsheathed knife at the ready. The two men were talking as they emerged on the ramp
arts. “If he manages to escape, we must secure the woman at all costs. I wouldn’t like to face Chester without her.”
“If your arrow had found its mark in Nottingham we’d not be up to our arses futtering about in bloody snow …” The voice was silenced forever as Falcon’s knife went straight into the man’s windpipe.
“What the Hellfire?” cried his companion, drawing his knife and backing off in a crouch.
“That’s exactly where I’m sending you, my friend. The one fatal mistake you made in life was missing my back when you aimed that arrow.” Falcon flung himself, knife first, upon the startled man. The force of his full body weight followed. The man was thinking what an utter fool de Burgh was to jump a man holding a drawn dagger, but he never got the chance to finish the thought.
Falcon bound the two bodies together by the leather thongs of their chausses then lifted the deadly bundle onto the parapet. One push and the pair dropped straight down into the lake with a splash that sprayed the men waiting by the drawbridge.
One called up, “What the hell was that? Did one of you fall off the wall?”
Falcon stepped onto the wall with raised sword. “Both!” he taunted.
The Falcon and the Flower Page 29
